Patrick Read Online Free Page B

could see, none of the smallholdings outside the town had been attacked. I arrived at the entrance to find the gate securely barred and locked. My shouts failed to raise anyone, so I left the trail and continued along the boundary hedge to a particular place I knew—I had long ago discovered how to enter and leave the estate when the gates were shut after dark—and, pausing to listen one last time, urged Boreas through the hawthorn gap and into the grain field behind the house.
    Sliding from the saddle, I ran for the open archway leading into the courtyard, where, to my great relief, my mother stood calmly ordering the packing of the family treasure. “Mother!” I shouted, running to her.
    â€œThere you are, Succat,” she said, turning from a wagon which was being loaded with various objects from the house. “You came back.” A frantic servant tossed a carved box into the wagon and hurried away again.
    â€œBannavem is attacked. They will come here next.”
    â€œYes, of course, my darling boy. As you can see, I have grasped that much.”
    â€œWe must flee.”
    â€œAll in good time.”
    â€œNo, Mother. Now. We must go now, while there is still time to get away.”
    â€œI will not have my precious things dumped into a hole like so much rubbish.”
    â€œThere is no time,” I said. An elder servant, a man named Horace, hurried past carrying one of my mother’s fine glass bowls. I grabbed him by the arm and took the bowl from his hands. “Saddle the horses, Horace,” I ordered. “Run!”
    I placed the bowl on the ground, took my mother by the elbow, and pulled her away from the wagon. “We are leaving. Where is Father?”
    â€œHe rode to town to help the militia.”
    â€œYou let him go?” I cried.
    â€œHe is leader of the council,” she replied. “It was his duty.” She picked up the bowl and turned to place it carefully in the wagon.
    â€œHe will be killed,” I said. For the first time a quiver of fear passed through me. “The town is overrun.” Snatching the bowl from her hands, I threw it against the trunk of the nearby pear tree. The bowl smashed, scattering pieces everywhere.
    â€œSuccat!” shouted my mother, aghast at my action. “Can you even imagine the value of that bowl?”
    â€œLeave it,” I told her, pulling her away again. “Leave it all.”
    â€œI will not have you shouting at me like this.”
    â€œGo to the stable, Mother, and get on a horse. I know a place nearby where we will be safe until the invaders have gone. I’ll look after this.” I pushed her away from the wagon. “Hurry!”
    She seemed to understand at last and moved off toward the stable. Frantic now, I turned and ran into the house in search of a weapon. My father and the men of the estate had taken all the swords and javelins, of course, and the shields, leaving only a few light hunting spears behind. I took two of these and ran through the house shouting for everyone to abandon the place.
    Then, with the help of one of the servants, I pulled the wagon to the end of the courtyard and pushed it out into the field, where, at the near end, lay a pile of straw. “There!” I said, indicating the straw. We pushed the wagon to the pile and then heaped straw over it until the wagon and its cargo of valuables could no longer be seen.
    Returning to the courtyard once more, I found my mother holding yet another of her large glass bowls. I was about toshout at her to drop the damned thing and get back to the stable when I heard a sound which seemed to come from the front of the villa. I darted inside and ran to the entrance hall, opened the door, and looked out to see a dozen or more men on the path leading to the house. My heart leapt to my throat.
    I fled at once to the courtyard, took my mother by the arm, and led her away. “I thought we were to take the horses,” she