Sleeper’s Castle: An epic historical romance from the Sunday Times bestseller. Barbara Erskine

the deep shadow. Catrin took a step backwards and pulled her cloak more tightly round her shoulders, straining her eyes to see what it was the horses had heard, then she saw two figures appear in the distance. She breathed a sigh of relief.

      Her father was not happy. ‘I needed to be alone,’ he grumbled as Edmund handed him a mug of ale. ‘I cannot think, always in company! Either we sit in busy halls or I am with you two and your endless chatter, chatter, chatter!’

      Edmund and Catrin glanced at each other, both aware that they never chattered, that there was more often than not an uneasy silence between them as they traversed the lonely roads. Edmund winked at her and Catrin found herself responding with a smile. ‘I am sorry, Tad, but you should have told us, then we wouldn’t have worried. I thought you might have been lost in the dark.’

      Dafydd threw himself down on the ground beside her and accepted a hunk of cheese and an oatcake from Edmund, who then went and sat at a distance away from them, near the horses, which had resumed grazing. The moon faded into darkness behind a wall of cloud and the only light came now from the embers of the fire. Edmund did not attempt to revive it.

      ‘Edmund and I will not say a single word now, so you can think in peace,’ Catrin said after a long pause. ‘Goodnight, Tad.’

      Her father grunted. He hunched himself deeper into his cloak and sat with his back to her.

      It was several hours later when Catrin awoke. The moon had moved across the sky and there was a line of light on the eastern horizon. The fire, she realised, was burning again and a hunched figure sat beside it. She was stiff and cold and the ground felt very hard as slowly she sat up and dragged herself to her feet. She went across and knelt near the warmth, holding out her hands.

      ‘Did I wake you?’ Edmund was huddled in a horse blanket, sitting cross-legged, his eyes on the flames.

      ‘I’m glad you did. I am frozen.’ They were both speaking quietly. The hunched figure of Dafydd lay with his back to them without moving.

      ‘It will soon be light,’ Edmund went on. ‘Then we can get back on the road.’

      ‘Are you sorry you agreed to come with us?’ Catrin asked after a short silence.

      ‘No.’ There was a short pause. ‘I am enjoying it.’

      ‘Really? Two mad poets with no sense of time or direction!’

      He laughed softly. ‘Two talented people who need me to set them right. But it was no one’s fault we were delayed yesterday. The road was hard and steep and the horses are tired. If we rest for a while at our next stop we will be back on schedule. Your father wants to travel all the way up the March beyond Oswestry and Chirk.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Has he mentioned to you that he wants to go so far?’

      Catrin nodded. ‘We always go that far. We usually visit the same people each year, so he doesn’t have to tell me. One of his chief patrons is the Lord of Glyndŵr, whose lands lie in that direction. His family have been friends to us and beg us to return each time we go and see them.’ She smiled. ‘This is a good way of life.’

      ‘In spite of the trouble between Wales and England?’ He hugged his knees, staring into the smouldering ashes.

      ‘There is always unrest somewhere. We manage to avoid it.’

      She heard him sigh. He rested his forehead on his knees. ‘Have you heard different?’ she asked after a moment.

      ‘As you said, there is always something; one lord takes offence at another; the Welsh are treated badly by the English – even I can see that; the laws against them are prohibitive.’

      She smiled. ‘You don’t consider yourself Welsh, Edmund?’

      He shook his head. ‘I was born in England and I am loyal to King Henry.’

      ‘Joan told me you plan to join his army to fight the Scots.’

      He didn’t reply.

      ‘If you were called to arms by your liege you would have no choice,’ she prompted.

      She saw his shoulders tense, then relax. ‘I am a good archer,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve trained since I was a child. I believe I am good enough to join an elite band, make a name for myself; make money.’

      ‘My father’s family, my family, have always had Welsh allegiance,’ she said quietly. ‘Though living as we do in the March it pays to be reticent about one’s politics.’

      ‘That would always be wise. Especially now, as your father visits the houses of both Welsh and English. I see even the most ardent supporters of King Henry enjoy your father’s Welsh songs.’

      ‘Which he carefully sings in English for their ears.’

      ‘It is like walking a tightrope as the acrobats do.’ He sat back and took a deep breath. ‘Maybe we should think about packing up our camp and moving on. It is growing lighter now.’ He turned and faced her. ‘While we are on the road my allegiance is to you and your father, Catrin, in whichever house we find ourselves.’ He gave her a reassuring smile. Before she could react he had scrambled to his feet, heading towards the horses, leaving her staring after him.

       7

      Nina dropped her bombshell as they were wandering round Hay next morning. ‘I’m so sorry, darling, but I’m going to have to go back tomorrow.’

      Andy felt a lurch of disappointment. ‘Why?’ It was too soon. She had thought they would have plenty of time to talk and explore; time to settle into Sleeper’s Castle, knowing there was someone else there at night, along the landing, someone real and strong and reassuring.

      ‘I’ve had a text. It’s a pupil I’ve been coaching. She’s been asked to go and play as part of an interview and she’s very nervous. I promised I would help her with her party pieces.’ Nina smiled fondly.

      For as long as she could remember, Andy had heard the tentative notes of the piano echoing through the house, becoming less and less tentative and more and more competent as her mother’s pupils progressed. Even better had been the occasional glorious sound of her mother playing alone in the sitting room of the cottage in the evenings, filling the place with music. Andy would turn off her radio or the TV and sit staring into space listening, transported by the beauty of the sound.

      ‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Nina touched her arm, sensing the wave of devastation which swept over her daughter.

      ‘No, don’t be silly.’ Andy shook her head fiercely. ‘That’s what is so special about you. You’re always there for people.’

      ‘And I wanted to be here for you.’

      ‘You are. You have been. After all, you can come back.’ Andy swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps we can book a nice long holiday for you to come up, when none of your pupils are likely to need you?’

      Nina gave her a thoughtful glance. ‘You’re strong Andy,’ she said. ‘And I can see you’re loving it up here. Those moments of doubt will come less and less often as you get used to being without Graham. I promise you, darling.’

      Nevertheless, one of those moments of doubt hit her the following day after she had waved Nina out of sight down the lane and she was once more alone. The day was cold and grey. A soft mizzle of rain lay like a damp blanket over the valley and the house felt very empty. There was no sign of Pepper when she went back inside, closed the door and headed for the kitchen; through the window the garden looked sodden and messy, the first leaves already off the trees and lying yellow on the lawns. No doubt the brook would be gathering strength to roar through the night and keep her awake. She sighed and began to gather their lunch plates and put them in the sink. She was too downhearted to do more.