Eppie Read Free Page A

reached
the pool and gazed up. To a casual passer-by the ghost would seem imperceptible,
like the early morning sun which shone feebly, cutting through rising vapours that
coiled around the trees. To Wakelin’s discerning eye, however, her figure stood
bold upon the bridge.
    ‘You won’t regret this,
Talia!’ he cried joyfully. ‘My ma will love her!’
    She gazed at him keenly and
then, turning, melted into the waterfall. The sight sent a shiver of wonder
through him.
    Protectively shielding the baby, he plunged through the
undergrowth. He felt ecstatic, filled with delight at the thought of seeing his
mother’s radiant face when she rose from her bed and lovingly took the infant
into her arms.
    As he ran, though, the dread returned, and he shot terrified
glances over his shoulder, imagining the thudding footsteps of a pursuer.
    When the physician examined the baby he might realise that
it was not Genevieve. His lordship was no fool. Eppie was the only new-born infant
in the village and Wakelin being a ninnyhammer , as his lordship had called
him, after he had been discovered sleeping beside a hedge when he was meant to
have been ditching, du Quesne would realise that he had stolen into the manor
and exchanged the babies.
    Eyes blazing with determination he pressed on, faster, oblivious
to whipping branches, heedless of savage wild-rose briars which lashed his face
and drew blood.
    Though his breath came in great gulps his throat felt dry
with the fear which threatened to overwhelm him.
    ‘How can I get home without being spotted?’ he thought
despairingly.
    To give him time to think he raced towards the dilapidated
granary, a blurred reflection of itself in the rising mist. A rat, startled by
his sudden approach, scuttled away from behind a staddle stone.
    Crouching with his shoulder pressed against the timbers, he peered
cautiously around the corner of the building and stared at the cottages which straddled
the lane.
    Dew soaked through his tattered shoes, chilling his ankles,
and he shuddered.
    From paddocks and backyards at the woodland edge arose the
odour of manure mingled with ripe pig. Already folk were stirring. Women
knocked fires in parlours. Chickens clucked.
    ‘Morning Bill!’
    Though it was only his
grandfather hailing Bill Hix, his neighbour, Wakelin stiffened in dread.
    ‘I hear your Martha was put
to bed last night.’
    ‘Aye,’ Samuel answered,
pride in his voice. ‘Uppan a little maid.’ 
    Twigs snapped like brittle bones.
    Casting a startled glance back, Wakelin glimpsed a shadowy figure
swoop for cover behind a tree.
    Eddying faintness seized him.‘Has someone seen me
running away from the manor?’ he thought in horror. ‘Who could it be?’
    Welling up from his stomach surged the overpowering queasiness
of the familiar falling-sickness from which he occasionally suffered.
    ‘Nah, God,’ he screamed in silent supplication, wiping away
the sweat of alarm that dripped into his eyes. ‘I’ve gorra get back afore ma wakes!’
    An iron-like ring gripped his head, torturing.
    Wailing in pain, he fell.

CHAPTER TWO
COCKCROW
     
    Darkness lingered. Snuggled close to
Gillow, Martha allowed herself a moment of relaxation. Though her body ached
after the long hours of labour last night, her spirits sang, knowing that she
had given birth to a healthy child. Eppie was far quieter than Hepsie, who had
cried so loudly for hours following her birth that she had kept the family from
their slumbers. The following day, Gillow had grumbled, almost without
cessation, about his weariness. ‘What about my tiredness,’ she had thought,
tackling her everyday chores.
    Often the family would work for a couple of hours before
breakfast but, after last night’s ordeal, she and Gillow were too tired to rise
early. Drawing aside the drapes of the wainscot bed she stepped out and went to
peep at her new-born infant, longing to pull Eppie into a warm embrace. On
second thoughts, she hung back. She would get on