snaps their cloaks. Green cloaks, yellow tunics, green leggings: they all match, like some kind of medieval rugby team.
The man in charge towers a full head over me. He studies the beach, sharp-eyed, then turns back to ask, “How many were on the boat, my lady?”
“I… . don’t know.”
“Not the crew, then, but your party?how many accompanying you?”
“Accompanying me?”
He looks at me piercingly. “Ladies-in-waiting? Attendants? Men-at-arms?” Seeing the confusion on my face, he continues, more slowly, as if he thinks I’m having trouble hearing. “If we know who accompanied you, we’ll know how many bodies we’re looking for.” He pauses. “That you live, it is a miracle indeed. But seeing this wreckage, chances are slim that others survived. Forgive me being so direct, Lady Matilda.”
Now I see! He thinks I was on that boat. And he thinks he knows who I am. “Lady Matilda?” I shake my head. “I’m—”
But the intensity in his eyes stops me as he stares at my dress, at the great cross dragging down the chain around my neck, at my hand and the ring with the bear’s head, all teeth and fury. Then he glances over at his horse. I follow his eyes; there, stitched in bright yellow on the green saddle cloth, snarls the same vicious bear.
I hide my hand quickly behind me. He’ll think I stole it! And the cross—oh, Lord, it’s too big to cover.
But he’s not accusing me of anything. He turns toward one of the men. “Oswald!” The man comes running, stands alert beside us. “I’m taking her ladyship to the castle at once. You and Robert continue searching. I’ll send more men, and a wagon to carry back what you find.”
“But I’m not your Matilda,” I insist. “I merely took a wrong turn. I’m going to town.”
“To town?” Now there’s a different kind of concern in his eyes. “My lady, I’m afraid his lordship would not think it wise, not in that sodden kirtle, or with that shiver threatening fever. Or your head so—”
He stops suddenly, as if he’s gone too far.
I reach a hand up and start patting my hair. What does he see up there? Did I get something tangled in it?
“Careful, my lady!” says the tall man. “Wait for someone at the castle to look at your head. You must have suffered a mighty blow. Small wonder you’re confused.”
The castle. Of course: they’ve come from the ruins atop the cliffs. But it won’t be ruins now, will it? There’s a real castle up there, all moats and jousts and knights in shining armor. My castle, come alive.
“She can take my horse,” says Oswald, looking at a huge beast. I step back in alarm. That enormous thing? And me never on a horse in my life?
“Not with that head. She’ll ride with me,” says the tall man, and then he and Oswald aren’t waiting for me to agree, but are bundling me up on his steed, and he’s leaping behind me, and before I’ve taken another breath, we’re hurtling up the hill, pebbles flying out from the horse’s hooves.
What am I doing? This is all wrong! I’ve just been pulling dead bodies out of the surf—dead bodies without legs—and more dead people are lying there under the debris or floating offshore. Again I feel the clammy touch of waterlogged skin against mine, and a shiver runs from my spine to my toes. I shouldn’t be doing this!
But under the shivering, and the horror of the bodies, and all the confusion, there’s … excitement. Me, taken for a grand lady! Me, the one they worry about and rush to help! Me, on my way to the castle!
Up the rise, under the wind-whipped trees, flashes ofgray sky flickering through branches like seabirds’ wings. Back the way I came, but so fast, I barely glimpse the clearing as we skirt its edge—can’t even see the lift or the dead tree—and we’re plunging into the forest, paths twisting and branching like a tangled maze. A startled stag crashes away. Then we burst through into the open and—
Oh! My heart almost stops! It’s my
The man in charge towers a full head over me. He studies the beach, sharp-eyed, then turns back to ask, “How many were on the boat, my lady?”
“I… . don’t know.”
“Not the crew, then, but your party?how many accompanying you?”
“Accompanying me?”
He looks at me piercingly. “Ladies-in-waiting? Attendants? Men-at-arms?” Seeing the confusion on my face, he continues, more slowly, as if he thinks I’m having trouble hearing. “If we know who accompanied you, we’ll know how many bodies we’re looking for.” He pauses. “That you live, it is a miracle indeed. But seeing this wreckage, chances are slim that others survived. Forgive me being so direct, Lady Matilda.”
Now I see! He thinks I was on that boat. And he thinks he knows who I am. “Lady Matilda?” I shake my head. “I’m—”
But the intensity in his eyes stops me as he stares at my dress, at the great cross dragging down the chain around my neck, at my hand and the ring with the bear’s head, all teeth and fury. Then he glances over at his horse. I follow his eyes; there, stitched in bright yellow on the green saddle cloth, snarls the same vicious bear.
I hide my hand quickly behind me. He’ll think I stole it! And the cross—oh, Lord, it’s too big to cover.
But he’s not accusing me of anything. He turns toward one of the men. “Oswald!” The man comes running, stands alert beside us. “I’m taking her ladyship to the castle at once. You and Robert continue searching. I’ll send more men, and a wagon to carry back what you find.”
“But I’m not your Matilda,” I insist. “I merely took a wrong turn. I’m going to town.”
“To town?” Now there’s a different kind of concern in his eyes. “My lady, I’m afraid his lordship would not think it wise, not in that sodden kirtle, or with that shiver threatening fever. Or your head so—”
He stops suddenly, as if he’s gone too far.
I reach a hand up and start patting my hair. What does he see up there? Did I get something tangled in it?
“Careful, my lady!” says the tall man. “Wait for someone at the castle to look at your head. You must have suffered a mighty blow. Small wonder you’re confused.”
The castle. Of course: they’ve come from the ruins atop the cliffs. But it won’t be ruins now, will it? There’s a real castle up there, all moats and jousts and knights in shining armor. My castle, come alive.
“She can take my horse,” says Oswald, looking at a huge beast. I step back in alarm. That enormous thing? And me never on a horse in my life?
“Not with that head. She’ll ride with me,” says the tall man, and then he and Oswald aren’t waiting for me to agree, but are bundling me up on his steed, and he’s leaping behind me, and before I’ve taken another breath, we’re hurtling up the hill, pebbles flying out from the horse’s hooves.
What am I doing? This is all wrong! I’ve just been pulling dead bodies out of the surf—dead bodies without legs—and more dead people are lying there under the debris or floating offshore. Again I feel the clammy touch of waterlogged skin against mine, and a shiver runs from my spine to my toes. I shouldn’t be doing this!
But under the shivering, and the horror of the bodies, and all the confusion, there’s … excitement. Me, taken for a grand lady! Me, the one they worry about and rush to help! Me, on my way to the castle!
Up the rise, under the wind-whipped trees, flashes ofgray sky flickering through branches like seabirds’ wings. Back the way I came, but so fast, I barely glimpse the clearing as we skirt its edge—can’t even see the lift or the dead tree—and we’re plunging into the forest, paths twisting and branching like a tangled maze. A startled stag crashes away. Then we burst through into the open and—
Oh! My heart almost stops! It’s my
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