Ark was dumbfounded. If only he’d chosen the next hatch. Being out by a few yards could be a fatal mistake. He was so close! What could he do? If they weren’t Grasp’s men, they might listen to reason. Maybe … “Thank Diana I’ve found someone!” he announced. “The King is in grave danger. He’s going to be betrayed at the Harvest Festival! Councillor —”

Before he could say another word, a punch snapped Ark’s head backward. He crumpled to the ground before being heaved over the second soldier’s shoulder like a carpet and carted off.

12• CONFRONTATION

Petronio took stock of the situation. He was alone, apart from his father’s horse, in unfamiliar territory in the middle of the night, surrounded by a gang of yobs with knives. The purse he carried was the perfect motive for murder. It wasn’t a good starting point.

“Which one of you would like to be the first to be trampled to death under my horse’s hooves?” Petronio held his gaze steady as he looked around the assembled thugs.

The leader spoke. “You’re havin’ a bit of a laugh there, mate. That’s proper good, that is!” He smiled and this gave permission for the rest of the gang to join in the snickering. “In fact I’ve never been so scared in my life!” Catcalls followed the sarcasm.

Petronio responded by suddenly jerking hard on the reins and leaning back with all his considerable weight. He’d seen his father do it once and had no idea if Mercury would comply. Quick as a flash, the mighty stallion reared up onto two legs, his front hooves pawing the air and missing the leader by inches.

Unless he wanted his head mashed to a pulp, the boy had no choice. He fell back, out of the glow of the flickering gas lamp, the bells on his hair braids jingling in the darkness, a scowl on his face trying to hide the fear.

The horse crashed his hooves back onto the branch, making the whole road vibrate and the leaves rustle in agitation. The obvious next move would have been to gallop away, smashing the gang members to left and right. The horse snorted, his hooves pawing the ground in anticipation.

Petronio licked his lips. The fog had thickened around them, like a damp blanket. If he dug in his spurs and Mercury took off down the woodway, they might not see the route clearly in the sputtering arc of the lamps, nor the swinging of the low safety rope, before it was too late. The boy, Malikum, was welcome to his suicide. But for Petronio, a leap over the edge into eternity was not an option.

He held the reins tight, stroking the horse’s neck. “Steady, boy. Steady!” he whispered. They were back to square one. Stalemate.