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did not lack for courage, that he would admit. She’d seen off Sir Royston and his pike-waving rabble. She’d played them like fish and never shown a flicker of fear, and now she was off again, dressed as a highwayman. What the devil was possessing her? At least, she would not lack for money, Brady had not been unsaddled and the bags bulged with stolen gold from her earlier escapade. He packed a satchel, his course decided. It was pointless going after her. She had too much of a start and there was no knowing which road she would be taking. He would leave his father to guard Compton and go to Oxford; tell Hugh what was happening here. They could go to London together and make sure that Sovay got into no more trouble. The master had to be warned, Sovay was right about that, but she should have left it to Hugh to decide the best way to do it. Perhaps Sir John already knew about these forces gathering around him. Perhaps that is why he had gone from home: to draw trouble away with him, as a bird seeks to lead a predator away from its nest. If that is what his hope had been, then he had failed.

CHAPTER 4
    E vents in France had triggered a general alarm across the country and more than once Sovay had to pull Brady into hedgerow or farm gate to make way for bands of men on the road, brandishing makeshift pikes. Sometimes they shouted, demanding to know if she was for ‘King and Country’, but generally they ignored her, taking her for a gentleman, and one well armed with pistol and sword.
    She was intent on travelling fast and wanted to avoid inns, but she was hungry and thirsty and Brady was tiring. He needed rest, water, and a bucket of oats if he was to go on until nightfall. She saw a farm, just off the highway, and hailed the farmer’s wife who was out in the yard.
    The woman readily offered the simple hospitality often shown to travellers.
    ‘I can give you bread and cheese,’ she said. ‘And there’s fresh milk in the dairy, if you’d like some, young sir.’
    Sovay dismounted and replied that she’d be glad of anything and was more than willing to pay for what she was given.
    The farmer’s wife would not hear of it. She instructed a boy to look after Brady and pointed Sovay towards the dairy.
    Sovay had been riding hard and the cool of the dairy was welcome. A young woman left her butter-churning and handed her a pail of milk. Sovay drank deep, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. The young woman seemed in no hurry to go back to her work. She was a fine-looking girl, with large blue eyes, the colour of cornflowers, and a slow, lazy smile. Her cheeks held the flush of a damask rose and her simple dress, cut low, showed the flawless, creamy skin of her neck and shoulders.
    ‘You are a pretty young fellow. Where are you off to this fine summer’s day?’ She rolled her sleeves higher over her rounded arms.
    ‘London,’ Sovay replied.
    ‘I’d love to go there,’ she sighed and sidled closer. ‘They say ’tis full of opportunities. A girl could make her way there, I shouldn’t wonder. Care to take me with you?’
    ‘Oh, no.’ Sovay smiled and shook her head. ‘I can’t. I have but one horse, and intend to travel fast.’
    ‘Fast, eh?’ The girl laughed, showing neat white teeth. ‘Well, if that’s the case, perhaps I can interest you in something else? I have strawberries and cherries, sweet and ripe.’ She winked, her plump fingers playing with a long, fair ringlet that had escaped from her cap and had fallen across her bosom.
    ‘Where?’ Sovay looked around and could see no evidence of fruit of any kind.
    The girl laughed and shook her head. ‘You are a slow one and no mistake! Well, if milk is all you want, perhaps you’d care to pay me for it?’
    ‘Of course.’ Sovay reached into her pocket.
    ‘Not with money, silly,’ the girl was very near now, ‘I meant with a kiss!’
    Sovay moved back out of her reach. This pretty milkmaid had been flirting with her! All that talk of strawberries and