Now his attention was fixed on the girl. She was about his age, perhaps slightly older. Her hair was long and black and reached down past her shoulders in a loose wave. Her skin was deep brown on neck, arms and legs, and she wore a simple woven gown of blue, coarse material. She had her back to him, and he noticed she wore sandals and had a thick silver bracelet on her left wrist. He knew most of the village girls by sight, but could not remember seeing anyone with such beautiful hair, or such long, graceful limbs.
On an impulse, he decided to move closer to see her face. Leading the calf, he moved to his right and took cover behind a clump of small beech saplings and then moved in a semi-circle through the shade of larger trees until he could creep up behind a thick hazel bush, less than ten paces from where the girl was kneeling.
He was about to introduce himself, when he heard the distant rumble of hooves galloping along the track from the direction of the village. The girl jumped up, and seemed uncertain what to do. She glanced towards the bush where John was crouched, and at that moment, a horse and rider appeared from around a bend in the path and galloped towards the bush, forcing the girl to run into the field.
The rider was a very large man dressed in dark clothes, with a wide-brimmed hat shading his eyes. He pulled the horse to a stop so violently that the huge beast reared up into the air and whinnied loudly. The girl ran like a hare across the field; only the upper part of her body visible in the long grass. She seemed desperate as she lunged through the dense vegetation.
"Come here, girl!" the man yelled. His voice was harsh and the words were spoken with a heavy accent.
John had no experience of accents; to him the speaker was a stranger from far away. In his first, brief glimpse of the man, John noticed many things: the horse was the largest animal he had ever seen. It was more than sixteen hands high, jet black with enormous staring eyes and a foaming mouth. It was in a constant state of motion, pulling at the reins as if in terror of the vicious spurs that the man wore on his boots. With every moment that John stared, the rider became more sinister. His hat obscured the top of his face, and a thick, ugly scar was visible across his left cheek, stretching from his large hooked nose to a place below the ear and hidden by thick red hair that poured out from beneath the hat. On his left hip, he wore a long curved dagger attached to a black belt studded in gold. A long sword and a small round shield were fixed to his saddle. He seemed immensely strong and frightening.
"Stop or you will be punished!" he called. His voice boomed like thunder.
The girl continued her headlong flight towards the trees at the far side of the meadow. The man dug his spurs into the flank of the horse and, with a cruel laugh, galloped off in pursuit. It was an unequal race. The girl was only half way across the field when the horse and rider were upon her.
John watched, outraged, as the stranger deliberately rode into the girl, knocking her sideways, and she disappeared into the tall grass. Again, the rider pulled the horse to a violent halt. As the horse turned, the girl leapt to her feet and began to run diagonally towards the trees, frantically lashing out with her arms to part the thick grass. John could now hear her voice screaming, "No! No!" and the man's laugh echoing across the field, loud and brutal.
Anger welled up inside John, but he felt helpless against such a powerful enemy. His mind raced. He had no weapon, and even if he had, what use would it be against an armed man on such a horse? He knew he had to do something and tried to concentrate as the old woman had taught him. He searched quickly around for a rock or a stout stick or anything he could use as a weapon. Nothing came immediately to hand.
He looked up in time to see the horseman knock the girl to the ground a second time. As he turned his horse, the girl staggered to her feet, and tried to limp away in a different direction. Her head was bent over and she seemed to be holding her side. She took a few, faltering steps and then stopped, swaying from side to side. Before she finally collapsed, the rider trotted over and leaning down, dragged her across his saddle. She lay limp and apparently lifeless. Her legs hung loosely on one side of the horse's neck, and her arms and her head, with its long black hair, drooped down on the other. The man gave another bellowing laugh and began to walk his horse back towards the path.
The Power in the Dark - Chapters 3 & 4
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