“We’ll walk across the mire to St. Wilfrid’s and then to East Beach,” Alinor decided.

He gaped. “Through the waters?”

“It’s low tide. I know the paths.”

The boy gulped down his fear and followed in her footsteps as she closed the door on the malting floor, shouted an explanation to Ned, who was plaiting a new rope for the ferry on the pier, and headed along the bank to her own cottage to collect the herbs and oils that she would need, putting them in the bag that she always took for childbirth. Alinor walked ahead of the boy along the bank, down to the white shingle shore, and then deep into the harbor, following the hidden paths, hearing him pattering along behind her, sometimes splashing in the puddles left by the receding tide.

They cut the corner by the church, crossing through the churchyard, and went past the big iron gates of the Priory. Alinor, glancing down the drive, saw Rob and Walter riding up the broad sweep. She waved at them but did not check her stride, and was pleased when Rob clicked to his horse and rode up to catch her up.

“Ma!”

“God bless you, my son.”

“Are you called out?” he asked, recognizing her sack of goods and her determined march.

“Yes, to East Beach.”

“We can take you up,” he said at once. He looked at Walter. “Can’t we? We can take my mother and this lad to wherever they need to go?”

“Why not?” said Walter easily. “Here, Mrs. Reekie, will you come up with me?”

Alinor was reluctant to ride with Walter, but her son was already pulling up his horse and putting a hand down to the boy.

“I don’t know that I can get up there,” she said, looking at Walter’s hunter.

“I’ll come over to this wall here,” he said. “And if you will climb up to the top, then you can step on. He’s a good horse, he won’t shy.”

Alinor could not say that she did not want to jolt the child in her belly. “I’ve got my bag of physic. Is he steady?”

“I promise you he has smooth paces. You can come behind me and hold tight to me.”

Alinor clambered up and then balanced on the top of the knapped flint wall as Walter brought his horse alongside. She stepped into the dangling stirrup and swung a leg over, to ride astride behind him.

“All aboard?” Walter asked as Alinor gripped his waist, the precious sack of oils held tightly between them.

“Yes.”

“And now we can go onward,” he said, and put the horse into a gentle walk.

“Do you want to go faster?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Not too fast,” Alinor said nervously.

Walter put the horse into a smooth controlled canter. Alinor clung on as the big-boned hunter plowed up the lane, onto the track to Sealsea, and then turned a sharp left down a sandy stony path to the hamlet of East Beach.