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They hated her and they were going to kill her. This truth gripped Susanna and she ran, stumbling, crying silently in terror. She splashed through the stream, running at an angle, running as fast as plump, five-year-old legs could carry her. She was gasping as she made the tree line on the opposite bank. In the thick shelter of the trees, she dared to look back. What she saw made her heart stop.
      Aunt Veronica, ordinarily so calm and wise, was screaming and clinging to the bridle of a gigantic horse. She was about midway across the shallow river and almost waist-deep in the water. A group of perhaps thirty villagers splashed around her, cursing and shouting. She saw their faces clearly, twisted and filled with hate.
      The beast tossed his head, throwing Aunt Veronica about like a rag doll. But the most frightening thing was the man astride the animal. He wore the clothes of a soldier, with a sword at his side. He was bare-headed, his thick mane of bright yellow hair like rich butter. As Susanna watched, her aunt lost her hold and sailed into the air. Susanna did not wait to see her land.
      Both Aunt Veronica and Aunt Capability back at the house had told her many times that something like this could happen. They had drilled her as to what she must do if it did. Now instinct and training took over as the girl's wits fled.
      Her chest heaved painfully. She grabbed the rough bark of a fallen tree that lay across the path and tried to pull herself up and over. The bark broke and she landed back on the ground, hard. For a moment she lay still, paralysed with fear, the breath knocked from her body.
      Then the conditioning of her short lifetime took over again. She heard her pursuers from the direction of the stream and knew they were running along the winding path of the water. She had to get over the tree, through the woods and home to Aunt Cape and safety. She stood, pulled herself up and hit the ground running on the other side.
      Underbrush whipped her bare arms, brambles tore her face and legs and roots tripped her, as though the forest itself was united against her.
      She burst into the clearing, chest burning, then into the house to collide into the soft, bent figure of Aunt Capability.
      Aunt Cape had heard some and guessed the rest. The table and chairs were pushed aside to reveal a dark hole in the floor. Susanna dived into it, headfirst.
      "Stay, child, and ne're e'en breathe!" Aunt Cape hissed.
      Susanna hit the side of her head and her shoulder as she tumbled in, then the cover closed out all light. She lay very still and struggled to control her breathing. She had made it. At least, she had made it this far.
      Her heart pounded at the sound of angry voices. Once she heard someone, a woman, cry out shrilly but the voice was distorted and Susanna did not recognize it.
      Darkness closed in upon her, and the pleasant smell of warm, damp earth comforted her. It was quiet there, too. After a while, she slept.
      A scraping sound awakened her, followed by a square of bright light. She blinked and stretched out her arms, wincing with the pain in her shoulder. Her head ached and there was a stale, unpleasant taste of blood in her mouth.
      Aunt Cape gathered her close and rocked, making small lullaby sounds. "My poor, poor bairn," she murmured. "Poor marked babe, to make the townspeople carry on so."
      There was more, but she didn't understand and soon her head nodded and her heavy eyes closed again.

The years passed and Susanna grew to womanhood. She was unusually small, her complexion fair, her hair a mad jumble of burnished copper curls. Soon she would leave the warm security of the little cottage and venture into the world.
      Then, that time was upon her …

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