The Lantern Moon by Maeve Friel Page A

have dozed off for she suddenly came to with a start. It was still pitch dark in the windowless stable but outside a cock was crowing. Then another one further off up the valley answered it with an even more raucous din. She picked a long piece of straw from herhair and rubbed her eyes. Above her she could hear scratching sounds, and immediately thought of rats. Something brushed against her cheek. She looked up and made out the unmistakable shape of Sam in his top hat inching along the beam directly above her head. Almost at once, there was a violent squawking. An enraged hen flew down from her nest in the rafters and landed at her feet. Sam plopped down on to the straw beside her, his body dropping with the gentle thump of a fall of soot. He held open his cupped palms to show Annie three brown eggs.
    â€˜Come on,’ said William, seizing his hat, ‘let’s get out of here before someone comes to see why the hens are in such foul temper.’
    It was a long, hard trudge all that second day on the dyke. They tried hard not to be discouraged by the steep hills but just plodded on. One rocky ridge and peak followed the other. It was wild, lonely country with hardly a sign of life but for the flocks of black-faced mountain sheep and bleating newborn lambs. By early afternoon, they had descended into a wide river valley and saw the distant roofs and steeples of a town they thought must be Hay-on-Wye but were too nervous to go near. Besides, to the south loomed more mountains, blacker and higher than any they had seen in two days’ walking, and they knew that their route lay in that direction.
    Their path began to rise steeply, and even when they felt they must have reached the very top, the dyke would zig-zagaround a corner and point them ever higher. Sam’s breathing was bad. He had to stop more and more often to cough and splutter, bringing up gobbets of black soot-stained catarrh. Once, far off, they saw a team of drovers and a herd of cattle coming in their direction but before they had got much nearer they had suddenly veered off on the English side between two mountain peaks. Now and then, flurries of snowflakes swirled around them. It was becoming impossible to follow their course. In the half-light and with the earth all around them covered with a sprinkling of snow, William could not make out the distinctive shape of Offa’s Dyke. Whole sections of it seemed to have disappeared altogether. The weather was closing in and seemed set to get much worse before it got better.
    They began to make their way down the mountain side to take shelter in a small stand of trees. William, walking in front, suddenly stopped and put his hand to his ear. Somewhere nearby there was a distant knocking sound, the rhythmic sound of metal on stone like someone hammering. All three froze where they stood like wild animals who have scented danger, every nerve in their body primed to run. In the stillness, their eyes scanned the hills a few hundred yards above them. It was Sam who first spotted the solitary blackcoated figure beyond the trees. He had his back to them and seemed to be standing hammering at the rock cliff. After a while, he stopped and closely examined whatever it was he held in his hand. Abruptly the strange figure turned, raisedhis arms to the heavens and began to sing at the top of his voice although the words were carried off by the wind.
    â€˜What on earth is he doing?’ asked Annie.
    â€˜Who knows?’ replied William, ‘but we’d best keep out of his way. He’s a clergyman.’
    They crept further into the shadow of the trees. Deep in the centre of the wood, it was very still and a good deal warmer. It was almost as good as coming indoors after the chill of the wind and snow on the higher ground.
    â€˜I need to stop,’ said Sam, suddenly dropping down to sit on the exposed roots of a tree. ‘I’m hungry and my feet are done in.’
    â€˜Mine too,’ said