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of the coach, so that Coldham’s ugly snout sank in and out of darkness.
    Luka was furious with himself. Why had he not guessed that Coldham would overtake the coach and ride on to Southampton, to capture them once they had alighted? He and Emilia should have got out somewhere on the road, and lost themselves in the woods.
    Now Rollo was dead, and they were caught, and all hope of rescuing their families was gone.
    â€˜Where are you taking us?’ Luka could barely manage to frame the words.
    â€˜Back to gaol.’
    â€˜Why? Why chase us all over the country?’
    Coldham cleared his throat and spat. ‘Filthy thieving gyps,’ he said. ‘Hate the lot of you.’
    â€˜But why?’ Luka was genuinely bewildered.
    â€˜Gypsies stole away my mam,’ Coldham said,after a moment. ‘Cast a spell on her and ran off with her.’
    â€˜They wouldn’t do that,’ Luka said disbelievingly. ‘Why would they?’
    A giant hand, gloved in steel, came whistling out of the darkness and cracked him hard across the face. Luka’s head snapped back and thudded against the seat. Emilia caught her breath and scrambled up beside him, putting her arms around him. Silently they stared at the black hulk of a man brooding in the far corner.
    â€˜I tell you, they did,’ Coldham snarled. ‘Came along one day and sang in the village square, smiling and smirking and winking at the girls, and the next thing you know, my mam just off and went. Didn’t even say goodbye.’
    Luka and Emilia did not believe a word of it. The Rom liked to keep themselves to themselves. It was very rare indeed for a Rom to marry a gorgio , and when they did, they either had to leave theirfamily and become a gorgio themselves, or their gorgio wife had to adopt Rom ways, which very few were prepared to do. They had heard stories of children being stolen by gypsies, of course, but their grandmother had told them that it was all rubbish, and they had believed her. Privately both children thought it more likely that Coldham’s mother had just left her husband, which was not surprising, if the father was anything like his son. They did not dare say so, though, but sat there in silence as Coldham poured a bitter, icy flood of spite and hatred over them.
    â€˜Lazy, sly, filthy, lying, thieving devils, black as your Satan-loving hearts. You should all burn in hell! You think I do not know that it was your ancestor who forged the nails that crucified Jesus Christ Our Saviour? You’re a cursed race, cursed to wander forever . . .’
    On and on he ranted. All courage and strength and hope drained out of the children as if he hadpunctured their very spirits. They could only stare at him, exhausted and terrified, and feel the shadow of the gibbet fall upon them.
    Very slowly, as if her limbs had turned to petrified wood, Emilia moved her right hand to her left, and groped for the chain that hung about her wrist. Her fingers found the familiar shape of the misshapen coin, and closed upon it.
    Please  . . . she thought. Please .
    There was a loud bang, right outside the window, and a bright flash.
    The horses reared and plunged, the coach swerved and skidded to a halt, and a loud and cheerful voice cried, ‘Stand and deliver!’
    At once Coldham slid off his seat and crouched by the door, his hand going to his pistol. There was a commotion outside, horses neighing, men shouting, and then the door was wrenched open. As Coldham lunged forward, his pistol jerking upwards, Luka threw himself off the seat andlanded a heartfelt kick in the big man’s posterior. Coldham fell sprawling out of the coach. His pistol discharged harmlessly into the dirt, much to the startled relief of the highwayman, who had been almost knocked over by Coldham’s unexpected exit.

    â€˜Oddsblood!’ he cried.
    â€˜Please!’ Luka cried. ‘Help us! We’ve been