They made their way to the tavern entrance. Already men were gathering in knots and talking. Some seemed to look up and glare at him as they passed, but he might have imagined it after Dick’s comment. If Will’s gran had truly been murdered by the same man who’d been killing the sheep, it did not bode well. The people hereabouts were worried about their livestock. How much more fearful would they be if they now had to worry about their children, their wives, maybe themselves?

As they neared the entrance, someone shoved him. He stumbled but had his knife in his hand almost instantly. When he turned, a wall of hostile faces stared back.

Someone whispered, “Murderer.” But no one moved.

“Come on, Will.” Harry slowly backed out of the Cock and Worm.

Quickly, he found his mare and boosted Will onto her back. Mounting, Harry looked around. A drunk was pissing against the tavern wall, but otherwise the darkening street was deserted. News of a murder would travel fast, but maybe night falling would delay it a bit. He should have until morning to figure out how to deal with this.

Harry chirruped to the mare and set out into the gathering dusk, Will clinging to his back. They turned onto the road home. The road passed through Granville land before going over the river to Woldsly. The lights of the town faded, leaving the dark to shroud them. No moon was out to light the road. Or to give them away.

Harry urged the mare into a trot.

“Are they going to hang you?” Will’s voice sounded scared in the dark.

“No. They need more evidence than a bunch of gossip to hang a man.”

Hoofbeats came from behind them.

Harry cocked his head. More than one horse. And coming up on them fast. “Wrap your arms around me, Will.”

He nudged the mare into a gallop as soon as he felt the clench around his waist. The mare thundered down the road. But she was carrying two, and he knew the riders behind would soon overtake them. They were in open pasture land. Nowhere to hide. He could take the mare off the road, but in the dark she’d have a fair chance of putting her hoof in a hole and killing them all. And he had Will to think of. The boy’s small hands clung to his waist. Foam flew from the mare’s mouth, and Harry leaned low over her sweating neck, muttering words of encouragement. If they could make it to the ford, there were places along the bank to hide. Or they could even go into the stream if necessary and follow the water downstream.

“We’re almost to the ford. We’ll be all right there,” Harry shouted to the boy.