Across another field, down a muddy lane through a copse, and through a remote yard between two barns and a tractor shed, Blackbird powered on. Steadying to take the turn through a narrow gateway into a field, Gideon found that there were only three or four horses between himself and Lloyd, in front.
The pace picked up once more and the next jump loomed: a long, clipped hedge with a flag at either end. Outside the flags the brush was a good eighteen inches higher, and to the right the ground dropped away, looking damp and reedy. This, then, was the hedge Lloyd had warned him about. Gideon started to ease Blackbird towards the left, with the intention of taking the centre line, as the horses in front were doing, but suddenly the big bay was there again, blocking his intended move and bearing him steadily to the right.
Gideon looked ahead. The fence was no more than sixty yards away and he was being pushed inexorably towards the right-hand flag. At this rate, it wasn’t so much a case of having to jump it at the widest end – he seemed more likely to miss the flagged area altogether.
‘Hey, move over, mate,’ he shouted, wondering if the bay was losing its nerve and trying to run out.
Its rider totally ignored him. The distance to the hedge was halved now and rapidly closing.
‘Oi! Move over, damn you!’ Gideon yelled furiously, glancing across.
This time he recognised the bay’s rider as the one who’d bawled him out at the meet, and he was grinning.
8
AT THE SPEED they were travelling, and with the right-hand boundary of the field now only a few yards away, Gideon had no hope of turning or stopping in the available space, even if he could have prevailed upon Blackbird to do so. The horse, however, was galloping full pelt, clearly a little annoyed at the encroaching behaviour of the bay, and completely unaware of the potential hazard ahead.
Three strides . . . two . . . one . . . They were outside the flag, where the tops of the untrimmed blackthorn shoots reached six or seven feet high and the ground was poached and boggy. Undeterred, Blackbird lowered his head, bunched his quarters and launched skyward. Gideon, throwing his weight forward to give the horse all the help he could, felt the whippy stems rattle against his boots as they brushed harmlessly through the top foot or so and, from this elevated position, the full extent of the danger became all too apparent.
The ditch that ran along the far side of the hedge was more in the nature of a small stream and, at the point that Blackbird had been forced to jump it, widened considerably, with a hoof-pitted muddy slope forming the far bank. The black horse reached forward with outstretched hooves, but gravity won out, and his forefeet landed on the treacherous incline and slid backward into the stream. His head ducked sideways, he hit the bank with his shoulder and the momentum carried his hindquarters over, propelling Gideon onward to land clear, several feet away, with a thud that rattled his teeth and expelled every last ounce of breath from his body.
He rolled twice and sat up, his chest a mass of pain as he fought to get air back into his deflated lungs. Through watering eyes he could see the black horse, half in the muddy stream, struggling unsuccessfully to regain his feet, and a split second later four or five more horses came flying over the clipped hedge, to land with varying degrees of finesse and gallop on. Another group followed and suddenly it seemed that Gideon’s plight had been noticed, as two or three riders peeled off and came cantering back.
Pulling up on a snorting, foam-spewing chestnut, just yards from Gideon, one woman called, ‘Are you OK?’
Gideon nodded. Breathing was now a distinct possibility in the not too distant future, but speech was still some way off. He waved an arm towards the stream and the stricken Blackbird.
‘It’s all right. They’re looking after your horse,’ she said, speaking over her shoulder as the chestnut strove to follow the latest wave of horses that passed. ‘Do you need a doctor?’
Gideon shook his head, inhaled a painful quarter-lungful and wheezed, ‘Just winded.’
‘Well, if you’re sure . . .?’The woman was quite obviously losing her battle with the chestnut and, when Gideon nodded again, the pair of them took off, thoughtfully showering him with mud and turf.
His first attempt to climb to his feet led to him sitting back down with a bump, and the realisation that one side of his body was completely soaked in mud and water. On his second attempt he made it to a crouch, where he paused, trying for more breath, frustrated at not being able to go to his horse.
From that position he could see that three riders had stopped to help Blackbird, one holding the horses, while the other two were endeavouring to push and pull the black horse to a position where he could get his legs under him, and stand.
‘Gideon! Are you OK? I saw what happened.’
Pippa, this time. She jumped off Skylark and squelched towards him.
‘Will be,’ he said. ‘What about Blackbird? Can you see?’
‘I think they’re trying to get him down into the bottom of the stream where it’s more gravelly. Here, do you want some help?’ she offered, holding out a gloved hand.
‘Thanks.’
As Gideon made it to his feet with Pippa’s aid, he saw Blackbird give a huge lurch and scramble up the slippery bank to safety. Once there he shook himself vigorously, showering his rescuers with dirty water, and then gave vent to a shrill neigh, his body shaking with the effort.
Slipping and sliding on the uneven ground, Gideon went over to the horse. One man was holding him while the other tried to look him over, but Blackbird, typically robust and headstrong, had other ideas, and began to fidget and circle, eager to rejoin the chase.
‘As far as I can see, he’s OK,’ the man said. ‘He certainly doesn’t seem any the worse for wear.’
‘Thanks. You did a brilliant job,’ Gideon said. ‘I’d never have managed on my own.’
‘No problem,’ the man replied. ‘But – next time – I should stick to the course, if I were you. The flags are there for a reason, you know.’
‘Yeah. Tell the other guy! He swerved into me.’
‘Oh, bad luck! These things happen.’
‘Yeah, well, thanks again. I’ll be fine now, if you want to catch up with the others.’
They quite patently did, and after enquiring once more if he was quite sure it was OK, they mounted and rode off in the direction the rest of the field had taken.
Quieting Blackbird, who had responded to the disappearance of the other horses by whirling round him in tight circles, Gideon tried to wipe his saddle clean with the sleeve of his jacket. Miraculously, both stirrups were still intact, and even more miraculously, so were his reins. Blackbird himself seemed remarkably untroubled, both physically and mentally, by his crashing fall. Gideon didn’t see why he shouldn’t remount, and said so.
‘Are you sure?’ Pippa looked doubtful. ‘I don’t mind walking back with you, if you’d rather.’
‘No, I’ll be fine, and I expect it’d be better for Blackbird to keep moving, too. If he’s as wet as I am, he’ll be getting cold.’
In spite of his reassuring words, getting back into the saddle wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but once there, things began to settle down. The saddle was wet and slippery, but felt unbroken, and the laced leather reins provided good grip for his fingers. Blackbird’s sodden ears looked unusually long and narrow, and there was a tuft of muddy grass caught in the headpiece of his bridle, but he felt strong and sound beneath Gideon, and strode out eagerly beside Skylark.
‘Some guy swerved into you . . .?’
‘Yeah, in a manner of speaking,’ Gideon said sourly, leaning forward to remove the grass.
‘And he didn’t stop?’
‘No, and if he’s got any sense, he won’t stop until he’s in the next county. You remember the rude man at the meet?’
‘It wasn’t him?’ Pippa swivelled in her saddle to look at Gideon. ‘Are you saying he rode you off course intentionally?’
‘I’m damn sure of it!’
‘Oh, fo
r heavensakes! I mean it’s one thing to be arsey about a bit of jostling but this was downright dangerous! Are you really sure? Couldn’t he have just lost control?’
‘Well, if he had, he was looking pretty happy about it!’ Gideon told Pippa exactly what had happened.
When he’d finished she said decisively, ‘You must tell Lloyd.’
‘Later, maybe. But to be honest, what can he do? It’s only my word against the other guy’s.’
It was the best part of another mile to the end of the second line, and when Gideon and Pippa arrived huntsmen, hounds and field had already moved on. Three riders remained, one of whom was Penny, the lady with the white armband, whose job it was to show the less fit participants the short cut to the start of the last line.
She waved a hand as the two of them rode up.
‘Hello Pippa. Everything OK? I heard there was a nasty fall. Oh . . .’ Her eyes twinkled as she took in Gideon’s muddied state. ‘Looks like you found a soft place to land, anyway!’
‘Could have been worse,’ he agreed. ‘Thanks for waiting.’
‘No problem. Right, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you on to the next halt. And then I can head you in the right direction to get back to the farmhouse, unless of course you want to hunt on.’
‘I might do,’ Gideon said. ‘He seems OK.’
‘And it would be good to finish on a high note, wouldn’t it? See how you go then.’
After hacking quietly along the edge of some plough and down a muddy lane, they emerged into a high, open field with views over the surrounding countryside. Here they sat and waited until the pricking of the horses’ ears alerted them to the approach of the hunt.
‘Look. There’s one of the hounds,’ Pippa said, pointing, and within moments the whole pack were streaming under and over the stile in the far corner of the field. Giving tongue sporadically they headed towards a pile of half a dozen plastic-wrapped hay bales, where they gathered round, pushing and shoving one another for best position.
‘Is there something there for them to find?’ Gideon asked Penny.
‘Just a few bits of meat,’ she said. ‘Gives them extra incentive. Ray – the huntsman – will give them all something when he gets here.’
As if on cue, the huntsman and one of his whips jumped into the field over the stile, followed closely by the second whip, and galloped to where the hounds were. Moments later Lloyd appeared, riding his second horse, and on his heels, the rest of the field.
If there was any doubt about Blackbird’s eagerness to rejoin the action, it was swiftly banished now. As the other horses came into sight, he suddenly plunged his head between his knees in an attempt to loosen Gideon’s grip, and, when that didn’t work, began to paw the ground with an impatient foreleg.
When the field had come to a halt, many of them dismounting to rest their tiring horses, the waiting group rode over to join them. Gideon’s eyes searched in vain for the man on the bay. With so many horses and riders, some now on foot or facing the other way, it was impossible to get a good look at all of them without riding round and among them.
Lloyd spotted Pippa and led his horse across.
‘Everything all right? Oh, dear! What happened to you?’
‘Blackbird put his foot in the ditch,’ Gideon said.
‘And the rest!’ Pippa said explosively.
Lloyd looked questioningly at each of them in turn, but Gideon merely shook his head slightly.
‘Not now.’
‘Something I should know?’
‘Later maybe,’ Gideon said. ‘How long will this line be? Do you think it’ll be all right for this fella after his fall?’
‘Oh, yes, I should think so. It’s about three miles but Steve usually lays a trickier line for the last one – more breaks and less jumps, because the horses are tiring. Makes the hounds work. It’s more like the real thing.’
Within ten minutes they were under way, and to Gideon’s relief Blackbird seemed unaffected by his experiences at the hedge and ditch, and continued to jump eagerly and apparently without fear. Gideon couldn’t decide whether this was due to bravery or stupidity, and said as much to Pippa during a pause in the run.
‘Actually, I think it’s because he trusts you,’ she said, as they watched hounds quartering the headland in search of scent. ‘His ears are constantly flicking back and forth. For some reason the old bugger listens to everything you say. Never mind that I’m the one who feeds him and sees to his every need!’
‘I’ve heard it said that horses are incredibly good judges of character,’ Gideon said, straight-faced.
‘But then, everyone makes a mistake, once in a while,’ she replied sweetly, as first one hound and then another picked up the trail and began to give tongue excitedly.
Seconds later the whole pack was streaming across the field in full cry, robbing Gideon of the opportunity of comeback.
At the end of the day, with horses installed in their trailers and boxes, rugged up and pulling at haynets, the members of the field and foot-followers were treated to hot soup and garlic bread in the barn at Catsfinger Farm.
‘Is he here?’ Pippa asked, coming across to where Gideon and Eve sat on hay bales against the wall. She was wearing a polo-necked jumper over her white shirt and a Puffa jacket in place of her black one, but her cream breeches were saddle-stained and splashed with mud. ‘Oh, hi, Eve. I was just telling Lloyd what that idiot did but I couldn’t see him anywhere.’
‘I think he must have gone on home. I couldn’t see him either,’ Gideon said. He’d changed into a spare pair of jeans and a jumper that he’d had the foresight to bring with him.
‘Well, Lloyd was furious. He asked a couple of people if they knew who the guy was and they seemed to think he wasn’t from round here. Not a regular, anyway. So I don’t think there’s a lot we can do . . .’
‘Gideon was just telling me what happened,’ Eve said. ‘What a bastard! Just because you accidentally bumped his horse. It’s not as if you meant to do it. What about the other one,is he still here?’
‘What other one?’ Pippa said sharply, looking at Gideon.
‘I’d forgotten after the fall, but earlier on there was another bloke on a grey horse, and the two of them came up either side and tried to put Blackbird off his stride. I wasn’t sure it was deliberate, at the time, but in light of the other . . . But I’m afraid I didn’t get a good look at the one on the grey.’
‘It was a grey horse that started it all by backing into Sky at the meet,’ Pippa said, frowning.
‘Yes, but there had to be at least half a dozen greys in the field, if not more,’ Gideon reminded her. ‘I guess we just have to accept the guy was a complete moron and forget it. It’s not likely I’ll ever see either of them again, anyway.’
‘It’s a shame, though,’ Pippa said. ‘I so wanted you to enjoy today . . .’
‘Well, I did enjoy it,’ he told her. ‘I admit I didn’t think I would, but Blackbird was brilliant, and I had great fun – in between times.’
‘You know you’re all completely mad, don’t you?’ Eve remarked, turning to meet Lloyd as he came over.
Lloyd quite patently had news. ‘Have you heard the latest about Damien’s murder?’ he asked, ignoring Eve’s last comment. ‘They’ve just said, on the news, they’ve arrested someone – well, taken him in for questioning, but it’s all the same thing. What’s more, it’s someone I know! You would, too,’ he said to Pippa.
‘Well, who is it?’ she said impatiently.
‘Adam Tetley.’
‘What, Adam Tetley from our pony-club days?’ Pippa said, astounded. ‘Little Adam Tetley who used to keep falling off and getting nosebleeds?’
‘Well, I imagine he’s grown up a bit since then,’ Lloyd said with amusement. ‘They said on the report that he’s thirty-eight and a security guard.’
‘But why would he want to kill Damien?’
‘They’re not saying, but the police must have had some reason for taking hi
m in. He’s a crack shot, I can tell you that. He used to do pentathlon when I was doing it.’
‘What is pentathlon?’ Eve asked. ‘Excuse my ignorance, but sport isn’t really my thing.’
‘Riding, shooting, running, swimming and fencing,’ Pippa told her.
‘It was the fencing I always liked the best,’ Lloyd put in. ‘Matching your skill against another human being, just like the duellists of old . . . Well, except for being wired to a buzzer, of course.’
‘I ’ave buzzed you, M’sieur, and I declare that honour ’as been satisfied,’ Eve said, putting on a haughty French accent.
‘It loses something, doesn’t it?’ Lloyd agreed, laughing.
‘But why would he want to kill him?’ Pippa repeated, not diverted by Eve’s play-acting. ‘I mean you’d have to have had a pretty big falling-out to want to kill somebody. You’d think Tilly would have heard about it.’
Gideon could have enlightened her but to do so would, no doubt, bring a barrage of questions down on him, to say nothing of betraying his success in deciphering the coded list. He kept silent, and it was left to Lloyd to answer.
‘Well, if he did do it, I expect we’ll find out why, in the end, love. But for the time being, let’s just be glad they’ve caught him.’
‘It’s hard enough to come to terms with the fact that someone you know has been murdered – but to find that the murderer might also be someone you know, or knew . . . It makes you wonder how well you really know anyone,’ Pippa said. ‘It’s a horrible feeling.’
‘Talking of knowing people,’ Gideon said, ‘do you know a lady called Vanessa Tate? I met her at Angie’s the other day. She’s got eventers, and her husband used to do pentathlon.’
‘I know of her,’ Pippa said. ‘I’ve often seen her name down in the entries for competitions, and I think I may have met her at Wilton, last year, but I don’t exactly know her.’
‘I know Vanessa,’ Lloyd put in. ‘She comes hunting occasionally. Nice lady. Never really knew Robin, but then, I did more triathlon than pentathlon.’
‘I gather he isn’t particularly horsy, these days.’ Gideon let the remark hang in the air.
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