Chapter 46: ThomasSir John no longer hunted—he’d hung up his pinks and his hunting horn years ago, according to Warrick, who’d never cared much for the sport, unlike his brothers—but he still had a hound with an excellent nose.
Because it would be easier to follow the b***h if we were mounted, we had horses saddled, although Vaughan wasn’t pleased about that.
Then we took her down to the priest’s cell where Warrick had been imprisoned.
She entered cautiously and sniffed the torn shirt and trousers that lay on the floor. Her ears flattened, she tucked her tail tight between her legs, and pressed herself against me.
When I signalled her to follow the scent, she dashed up the stairs, more than happy to leave the cellar. But she was a good dog, and she tracked the scent through fields and
