The Witch from the Sea by Philippa Carr Page A

how far from your home were you when you came upon us in the lane?”
    “A mile or so.”
    “Then we could be near the spot.”
    “Do you think they would be waiting there? My belief is that they would go to an inn and there send out men to look for you.”
    “Yes, I suppose they might do that. Is there a nearby inn?”
    “I know of only two hereabouts.”
    “Then let us go to them. My mother will be there. You are right when you think that she would go to the nearest inn and get people to look for me.”
    “We will go then.”
    The inn was called The Red and White Rose. The signpost creaked in the rising wind and a man with a lantern came out as we approached. The sign depicted the faces of the Queen’s great-grandfather, Henry VII of Lancaster, and his wife, Elizabeth of York. It was strange that I should notice them at such a time.
    Colum Casvellyn had leaped from his horse and a groom had rushed forward to take the reins. “Where is the host?” he shouted.
    The innkeeper came hurrying out at the sound of that imperious voice.
    “Has a party arrived?” said Colum Casvellyn. “A lady with a maidservant and two grooms.”
    “But no, my lord.”
    “You are sure?”
    “I am, my lord. We have had but one visitor. A merchant on his way to Plymouth.”
    I felt wretched. I was trying to think clearly. Should I stay here for the night, I wondered. There was nothing much I could do. In the morning I could search for my mother. At least she would be safe, for she had the two grooms and Jennet with her. It was not so much her personal safety that worried me, for the robbers had fled, it was the anxiety she would be suffering at the thought of what might be happening to me.
    “There is another place we could try,” said Colum Casvellyn.
    “Let us then,” I said, for I dreaded waiting alone in this inn through the night.
    “Host,” called Colum imperiously. “If a party such as I have described should come here, pray tell the lady that her daughter is safe and well.”
    “I will, my lord.”
    “Now,” he said turning to me. “Let us visit the other inn and see if they are there.”
    We rode away. He did not speak and nor did I. I felt frantic with anxiety.
    We went for a mile or more; then I said: “But how far is this inn?”
    “I am not sure but I believe it to be close by. Ah, wait a moment. I am sure this is the road.”
    The clouds of the day had completely disappeared now and the moon had emerged; it was not quite full but just on the wane. I was glad of the light it offered.
    “This way,” he said. We went up a drive and then I heard his exclamation. “Good God,” he said. We were looking at a ruin … eerie in moonlight. A sudden horror took possession of me. It was as though I were living in a nightmare. What had happened to me? Here I was in such a place with a man whom I had hated on sight and who had filled me with a sense of fear when I had first seen him. For a moment I told myself this could not be happening in reality. I was dreaming. We had gone to The Traveller’s Rest and in the oak-panelled room I was dreaming of the man I had met when I was last there.
    How ghostly was that scene! The walls only were standing for it was nothing but a shell. It seemed menacing, haunted by evil spirits as the moonlight cast ghostly shadows on the smoke-blackened walls.
    I looked at the man beside me and I felt a sudden fear possess me. A faint moaning in the trees sounded like souls in distress. I seemed to hear a warning in the air. “Get away from here. Find your mother. Go back where you will be safe.”
    An owl screeched suddenly and I jumped in terror. I imagined the grim bird swooping suddenly on some unsuspecting prey.
    Colum Casvellyn was smiling ruefully.
    “Who would have thought it! It must have happened recently. It was a flourishing inn when I last passed this way.”
    “Is there anywhere else where my mother might be?”
    “I know of none other.”
    I said: “I should go back to The