It was good to be back in the saddle. Eli had missed the freedom and the heady scents of polished leather and hay-sweet horse breath. He rode hard, avoiding the roads and lanes and choosing instead to gallop through fields and over farmland until the pulse in his neck beat in rhythm to the pounding hooves of his horse and the wind blew his skin tight across his face.
If he hadn’t taken directions, Eli was certain he would never have found Spaxton. It was tucked away in the back of beyond. Only one lane led to it, and it wound around so narrowly and for so long that Eli began to imagine it would never end. But then, as if out of nowhere, a cottage appeared and then another and soon Eli found himself staring at the entrance to the Lamb Inn, wondering what on earth he was going to say. How did you go about admitting to anyone that you had lost your sister?
It was warm and inviting inside the inn. A fire was burning and the low hum of voices filled the air. Some men, farmer types, were gathered around the bar. They gave him a cursory glance before turning back to their drinks and conversation. Eli walked to the bar, pulling nervously at the cuffs of his riding jacket.
The landlord greeted him blithely, as though he were used to strangers walking into his inn. He poured Eli a jar of frothing beer. Eli swallowed a mouthful. It was warm and yeasty and he tried not to grimace. After a few more mouthfuls, Eli found his nerve. He cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me,’ he ventured. ‘Could you tell me something of the Abode of Love and the man they call Henry Prince?’
The landlord sighed. ‘You look a bit young to be a journalist,’ he said.
‘I’m … I’m not a journalist,’ said Eli. ‘Only I did read about this place in The Times, and I wanted to come and see it for myself.’
‘And why might that be, young sir? You looking to join his flock?’ The landlord laughed and winked at the gathered men. They sniggered into their beers and Eli felt his face grow hot.
He took another gulp of beer. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But I should like to know where I can find him, this Henry Prince.’
‘You have found him,’ said the landlord. ‘The Abode is next door, behind the walls. But actually seeing him is another matter.’
‘Does he not receive visitors?’ asked Eli.
Again the landlord laughed. ‘Not unless you are a woman,’ he said. ‘And a rich one or a good-looking one at that.’ He poured himself a beer and leaned his elbow on the bar. ‘Why are you so interested anyway?’
Eli looked at the landlord, grinning away as if it was all a great joke. He didn’t want to tell him. But he couldn’t think of any other way. Eli took a deep breath. ‘It is my sister,’ he said. ‘I think she is inside the Abode. I think Henry Prince has kidnapped her.’
The grin dropped from the landlord’s face. He looked into his beer for a moment, then lifted his eyes back to Eli. ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ he said. ‘All the women and girls in there, are there because they want to be. He tells them he is God, you see. And they all believe him. They’re a strange lot to be sure. But they keep themselves to themselves. They don’t bother us. Most bother we get is from folk like you, and journalists, of course. They can’t get enough of it.’
‘My sister doesn’t want to be in there,’ insisted Eli. ‘She was kidnapped. I’m telling you.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ said the landlord. ‘People like you, who come looking for their wives or mothers or sisters.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘But I’m telling you, none of them want to leave. Only one, I remember, was ever taken away. And she weren’t ever right in the head again. Had to put her in the madhouse, they did.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Eli, although he remembered the newspaper article he had read, only the day before, that spoke of a young lady and a lunatic asylum.
‘Suit yourself,’ said the landlord and he turned to his other customers.
‘No, wait!’ said Eli. ‘Please. There must be a way I can get in there. Just to see her. To see that she is well, and happy.’
The landlord turned back. ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You could climb the walls if you wish. Or break down the gates. But they’ll throw you out as soon as you step foot inside.’ His face lit up for a moment. ‘Or,’ he said. ‘You could wait outside the gates. They ride out most days. You might be lucky and catch sight of her then.’ His eyes glinted. ‘I can do you a good rate on a room.’