There was a long pause before Kit replied. The cartwheels rolled and the horse’s hooves hit the ruts steadily; the beast snorted once, swatting his tail from side to side. ‘Leana,’ said Kit, and then, as if the effort had been too great for him, he turned away and kept his silver eyes on the track.

After what felt to Tom to be at least an hour, but was probably more like half, horse and cart turned into an even narrower road, bordered on both sides by thick hedgerows. Tom could hear the faintest sound of music on the breeze. A pipe, it seemed. The sound of it made Kit stiffen, and he urged his horse onwards. The horse began to trot.

The house now came into view. Tom would have liked to stop to take it in. But the cart was now trundling faster.

It was a farmhouse; not really as Tom had expected it. It was built from red brick, tumbledown and sprawling, looming from its position on a small island surrounded by a narrow moat. There were two storeys and what looked like a small attic above. Tall mullioned windows. Around it spread fields, mostly grassed over and ill kept. Through the branches of a copse, the crest of a small mound poked upwards.

Something moved on top of it; there was a whooshing sound, and Tom, astonished, looked down at his hand.

Right next to it, buried into the wood, fletched with a black feather, was an arrow.

Kit moved the horse on faster and now they were properly trotting; now cantering and another arrow whizzed and thudded into the wooden slats of the cart. Tom ducked down, clutching his arms over his head; and then, as he trembled, unable to see anything, he felt the horse slowing to a walk once more.

Tom heard a crunch as Kit jumped down onto gravel. They must have arrived in front of the farmhouse. The danger – whatever it was – must have passed. Gingerly, he peered over the side of the cart and saw Kit carefully shutting a gate at the end of a short bridge. They’d crossed the moat and were on the island.

‘What the …’ Tom sat back. ‘What was that?’ Leana licked his hand. Kit merely beckoned with a long finger.

Tom, shaking with adrenaline, lowered himself onto the badly gravelled drive, swung his rucksack down and was immensely grateful for Leana, who flowed down next to him and hovered, as if protectively, by his legs.

The mound could be seen to the east; but there was no shadow on it now. Tom pulled the arrow out of the wood. It was beautifully made. Kit gently took it from him and stalked up to the front door.

Tom jogged to follow him, and soon he was stepping past a battered heavy wooden door, into the gloom of a stone hall.