Treason, p.39
Treason, page 39
part #1 of Treason and Truth Series
The Comptroller looked at Arkyn. “Thank you, sir.”
Arkyn shook his head slightly. “He’ll get over it. Not sure I will…” He also went inside.
Laioril said, “Let the lads go, Comptroller. What harm can it do?”
“Chief, it isn’t my choice. We can’t disturb His Majesty and he’s been certain Their Highnesses don’t leave the valley without trustworthy guards who know Oedran.”
“Would you think me a good enough guard for Their Highnesses?”
“You, Chief? Aren’t you a bit old in your joints these days?”
“Aren’t we all, Comptroller? I can keep guards in line as well as the next man. Have done many in my time.”
“Yes, it’s the guards who’ll need protection, isn’t it, Chief?” observed Miranda.
Bright-eyed, Laioril glanced at her. “Can’t imagine what you mean, lass. The offer’s there, Comptroller. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and raid your amply stocked kitchens—”
“You’re not joking, are you?” said the Comptroller.
“I never joke about pinching from the King.”
“No. I know. Look, Chief, thank you for your offer, but I think they best stay here. If it were the whole tribe then that might be a different matter. The lads could hide in your melee without a problem but—”
“You’d let the lads and lass go with me if it were the whole tribe?”
“Erm, I suppose so, Chief,” replied the Comptroller.
Laioril turned to Miranda. “You heard the man. Come on, let’s get the others. We’re going to Oedran. You’d better take your kit in case… Can’t see those kids disappointed. Don’t know what’s got into me.”
“I doubt it’s called sentimentality,” muttered the Comptroller. “That would change the habit of a lifetime. Chief, there’s no need…”
“I’ll ignore that. We’ll take a few of your resident guards with us. Guess we’ll need a cart too for the young lass and Maria. No, not a coach, far too obvious, wouldn’t you say? Tell them that a solution has been found.”
Later, the Comptroller didn’t know why he’d done it. Normally so careful of his charges’ safety, he had let them blindly go to Oedran with no more guard than a tribe of the Wanda and a handful of the resident guards of Ceardlann. The only thing that consoled him was remembering the King saying he trusted Laioril when it came to his sons’ lives.
Chapter 67
TROUBLE!
Hexadai, Week 48 – 27th Lufial, 20th Lufis 1210
Oedran – Medlars Close
IN OEDRAN, the streets were cooling down after the heat of the day. The men watching Gad were bored of the vigil; he’d given them nothing new for a fortnight. Wharfsratter, half-hidden by a stall in front of a shop, watched as Gad turned, caught his eye and gave a four-fingered wave, fading out of sight. Wharfsratter turned so the spot was in his peripheral vision. Nothing. Gad had disappeared. There wasn’t any sign of him. He swore so loudly that passers-by looked around and a voice admonished him from above.
Then Gad whispered in his ear, “Tut, tut, tut… you should be more careful,” as a dagger plunged between his ribs.
Blood poured from the wound and ran along the pavements into the gutter. With the last breath he held, Wharfsratter croaked, “Tell Lord Landis, now…” to a lady passing, as, with the last of his sight, he saw his companion, yards away, fall as well.
The passer-by screamed. People flocked to the spot. A yeoman calmed the hysterical woman. When she was in control of herself, he asked her if the dead man had said anything. When he heard the message, he glanced around. What was a street vagabond doing waving the name of a King’s Defender around like it was normal? His mind jumped to conclusions he never dreamed it could, more quickly than he liked to recall later.
He spotted a colleague walking towards the crowd and said, “Sort this out. Send the body to Lord Landis’, I think.”
He didn’t reply to his colleague’s confusion but simply hared off. They were on the opposite side of the city from the Landis House, and he had to somehow talk his way in and get to see the Lord of Oedran.
* * *
A footman answered his hurried ringing of the bell. Seeing the yeoman he said, “You should have gone round the back.”
The yeoman, panting, his hands on his knees, ignored the rebuke. “I must see Lord Landis. I’ve got a message from a dead man.” Even to his ears it sounded mad.
The footman reacted as though it was completely normal and stood aside. “Wait in the hall, please. I’ll see if His Lordship is busy. Your name?”
Rushton took it that he was invited in. He half stumbled into the entrance hall, unsure if he was glad to get the chance for a breather. A minute later, he was shown into the lord’s study.
Landis was obviously busy. “What’s the message, Rushton?”
“Tell you truth, sir, I’m uncertain. A dying man, stabbed through the ribs, said to a witness ‘Tell Lord Landis, now’. That’s as much as I know.”
Landis’ concern was easy to read. “When and where was this?”
“Quarter of an hour ago or more, in the Teran lordship, in the mouth of an alley called Medlars Close, m’lord.”
“Shit! Right, catch…” Landis tossed the man two darl. “Keep your mouth shut about this. Really shut. My servants will show you out and thank you for your promptitude.”
Perplexed by the abrupt dismissal, Rushton said, “Right, m’lord. Erm… thank you.”
Before the man had even left the room, Landis was in a link with Wynfeld.
The captain said, “Mine was killed too. We’ve lost him and I’d bet we’ve been led a dance for weeks.”
“I’ll inform the King.”
Wynfeld swallowed. “We should have anticipated this. Tell His Majesty I’ll resign my commission.”
“No, you bloody well won’t, Wynfeld, and that’s an order. Stop being melodramatic and get every man you possibly can onto finding Gad. There’re more major events in the next week than the rest of the year put together. Sicla! Their Highnesses are due to arrive from Ceardlann any time now.”
Wynfeld said, “Fitz is ill, here in Oedran. Last night he started throwing up; our doctor won’t let him out of bed.”
“Thank Alcis for that. The Comptroller won’t let them out of the valley without him. It’s the Guild Banquet. I’m going to be there, as is His Majesty. I’ll tell him there. He’s in a meeting with two of Scanlon’s supporters. There’s no way I’m barging into that and letting them know we’ve lost one of Scanlon’s men. Just make sure that His Majesty’s route is safe.”
Breaking the link, he saw a timepiece and swore again. He had thirty minutes to get to the Guildhall. Racing up to his private rooms, he ignored everyone he met en route. He flung on his official tunic and mantle with more haste than was normal. Even William ended up flustered. On second thoughts, Landis decided to warn Adeone before he left the Palace. Fully dressed, he contacted Richardson, who answered the messenger.
Landis was brusque. “We’ve lost Gad. Warn His Majesty.”
Richardson said calmly, “His Majesty left for the Guildhall early, my lord. He should have reached there half an hour ago.”
“Send a damned runner to his sergeant, go yourself or messenger him. Just make sure they know. I’m still at home. I’m about to set off for the Guildhall… Are Their Highnesses staying in the Rex Dallin?”
“As far as I knew they were coming here—”
“Fitz is ill. Check and get the Comptroller to keep them in the valley.”
Startled, Richardson nodded and Landis broke the link. He had quarter of an hour to reach the Guildhall. It was half the city away. He flung on his sword and raced to where Clodach was holding his horse. He ended up galloping most of the way, for once ignoring the fact Skit didn’t like crowds and urging him on as never before.
* * *
Landis reached the Guildhall at the same point as a runner from the Palace was leaving. He acknowledged the lad and later realised it was Sergeant Hillbeck’s nephew; the sergeant met him, looking grave.
Hillbeck said, “I’ve told them to check all invitations. That won’t help if the man’s already here or uses some other method to gain entry, but, with the King’s presence, there are palace guards here this evening. Merchant Chapa insisted on them.”
Landis blanched. “That’s no guarantee of anything, Hillbeck. Think back. The man has a guard’s tabard! Damn it. I should have issued a new one. Alcis, I’m a fool! He could be here and we wouldn’t know.”
“I would, sir. I’ve not spotted him yet. Trust me, I’ll be watching carefully, from all areas of my sight as well. I’ll tell the lads too. Everything will be fine, my lord.”
“I wish I could believe that, Hillbeck, but my gut is telling me something else entirely. I’ll inform the King. Where is he?”
“Talking with Merchant Chapa, my lord.”
Landis was gone. He knocked on the Chief Merchant’s door, walked in and bowed. Carefully, he said, “I’ve just seen Hillbeck, Sire…”
“How pleasant for both of you. Sit down and stop being official. I gave Hillbeck orders to be elsewhere. I’m hardly in danger here.” Adeone saw his face. “Well?”
“We’ve lost Gad, sir. He faded from sight and then killed two men watching him.”
“Great Alcis! Your timing couldn’t be worse!”
“Trust me, Sire, we’re doing everything we possibly can to find that man.” He inwardly prayed that Wynfeld was doing that. “I’m having every measure possible put around the building here tonight. Gad was lost about an hour and a quarter ago in the east of the city. I expect he disappeared to give himself time to plan whatever it is he’s planning.”
“Do what you can then think over what I’m likely to be saying to you all in the morning. That’s all.” Adeone sighed and turned back to the Chief Merchant. “Sorry about that, cousin.”
“I can cope, Your Majesty. There’s good men working on the problem you might say. Shall we go down to hall?”
Chapter 68
INTRODUCTIONS
Evening
Guildhall
FULLERTON DRESSED WITH CARE. It was one of his last evenings in Oedran. He’d stayed to hand the King a petition about his lands in a last-ditch attempt to retrieve them. The King would be at the Guild Banquet; he hoped he would have a chance at least to meet him. Meeting someone amongst hundreds, in the Petitionals, would mean the King could forget him, but meeting him at a banquet, he hoped that meant there was less chance of being lost in a sea of faces.
At the Guildhall, his invitation was checked. “Merchant Fullerton, there was a guard here with a message for you earlier. Someone inside should have it. Well, he went inside to hunt for you, so I’m assuming they will have.”
Directed straight into the Hall of Merchants, Fullerton was confused when no-one told him what the message had been, but he’d soon forgotten that there was even meant to be one.
As an usher announced the King, Fullerton turned and bowed. Merchant Chapa was presenting merchants but slowly because Adeone wanted to talk to the people who were being introduced, though some he seemed to know anyway.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Chapa.”
“Likewise, Sire, but my cousin remembered I exist. Nice of him that. Personally, I wonder what the ulterior motive was.”
“That makes two of us. Does it make us cynics?”
“It keeps things in perspective, sir,” replied Chapa, amused.
“Yes, I’m just concerned about the vanishing point. Merchant Figgis, how nice to see you…”
The King was getting closer and closer to him. Maybe this was the opportunity he’d been waiting in Oedran for. The King was moving towards him and he was bowing as the Chief Merchant introduced him. A flash in his periphery vision. He flung up his left arm, grabbed at cloth, pulling down as he rose from his bow. Suddenly, there was another figure with them, struggling to make a backhanded swipe. The King turning, stepping back. Fullerton, his fingers burning from coarse cloth being ripped from them. He grabbed the wrist, twisting it, barging the man aside. The dagger clanged on the flagstones. The King still turning, missing his footing, stumbling, falling away from him. Fullerton grabbed at the man again, holding him, determined not to let go. No-one else existed. Guards laid hold of the man. Fullerton released and finally recognised him.
He blanched. “You!”
Sound came back, shouted orders… “Get irons on him now! Even when they’re on him don’t let go…” A child’s voice wailing the mayhem… “Father—” Another voice… “Lad, calm down…” Another voice… “Let me take care…”
He spun on the spot, unable to focus on anything, new faces, everything spinning blurring into distorted shapes.
Then the voice ordering people about said, “Hillbeck, don’t let Fullerton go. He’s not under arrest but he’s not to leave this room.”
That brought him back to reality. He looked down at the floor to focus on one thing. The King was lying on it unconscious, a gash from right to left across his chest, his tunic blood soaked.
* * *
“At least that secures him,” muttered Landis as Fullerton fainted. “Your Highnesses, go with Nicholas, please. Hillbeck, get this place secure. Doc?”
“I’ve nothing with me…”
“Damn it! Let’s see the damage. At least Fullerton stopped his throat being slit.”
“Here, doc, use this. Just hand it back to the Chief when you’re done.” Miranda put her medical roll down and disappeared into the crowd.
Without even glancing up, Doctor Chapa said, “Thank you,” undid the straps and unrolled the kit.
Landis undid the King’s mantle. He put pressure on the skin surrounding the gash as the doctor sewed it up and put healing ointment on the wound. They could only hope.
As Landis took in everything else happening, he tried not to smile. Laioril was helping Hillbeck and ordering the merchants around for good measure. Sayre of the Wanda even had merchants clearing one of the trestle tables. He glanced at Fullerton. The merchant was conscious but unsurprisingly glum and fearful.
Chapter 69
FEARS AND FEASTING
Late Evening
Guildhall
SEEING HIS FATHER FALL, a horrible realisation swept over Arkyn: change could come swiftly. He shielded Tain from the chaos of the hall, glad Elantha had gone straight to the Palace.
He helped shepherd his brother to the library, where Nicholas Chapa managed to distract Tain with an ease that Arkyn liked. Nicholas seemed unfazed by what was happening; only a set of the head giving away that he was listening for hints of what was transpiring. The fact their nearfather trusted Nicholas reassured Arkyn. He slipped quietly out of the room when he knew Tain would be all right and discovered Carlon Silversley guarding the door.
“What’s happening?”
“Not sure. Do you want me to find out, sir?”
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t want to… Well, I’d be in the way.” He glanced along the corridor and, spotting his administrator talking to another of the guards, called him over. “I think it would be as well to know who was here and where they were when everything happened, Edward. Can you see if there’s a…? Ah…” Arkyn saw a portly merchant lumbering up the stairs. “Merchant Figgis, are there any clerks here tonight?”
“Watkins was around here somewhere. I’ll send someone to find him for you, sir.”
“Thank you.” After the merchant left, he continued, “Include everyone, the cooks and servers too.”
“Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can do?”
Distracted by guards carrying his father up the stairs on a board from one of the trestle tables, Arkyn didn’t reply. He stepped forward then stopped. Landis noticed.
Crossing to his nearson, Landis dismissed Edward and drew Arkyn along the passage a few paces away from Carlon, turning so he was shielding Arkyn from the gazes of those behind them.
Very quietly, he said, “He’ll mend. He’s knocked himself unconscious but the doc’s optimistic—”
“Aren’t all King’s Physicians?”
Landis chuckled. “Aye, they might be, but when has the doc played by that rule book? I’d tell you if it were serious, sir.”
Arkyn tried to pull himself together. “So I should hope, Lord Landis. I’ve asked Edward to make a list of everyone who was here and where they were. Do you want it?”
Landis was intrigued that Arkyn had taken that initiative amidst his concern. “I’d be grateful for a copy, sir, as would Wynfeld, I expect.”
“Will father sack him?”
“I don’t know and that’s the truth of it, sir.”
“Oh… I ought not to keep you, my lord. If you could let me know when we can see father…”
Landis squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll make sure of it.” He walked away, aware that Arkyn was watching him go. As he passed Carlon, he said, “If Captain Wynfeld turns up, send him to wherever the King is.”
Arkyn watched Landis enter a room further up the long corridor and slowly walked back to where Carlon was standing. “Do you know who Wynfeld is, Silversley?”
The guard gave a small snort. “No, sir, but I’m sure I’ll find out.”
Arkyn chuckled. “I do. I’ll pass on the message. How’s your grandfather?”
“He’s well, sir. Young Iestyn is keeping him on his toes now he’s toddling…” As Carlon talked, Arkyn gazed between the head of the stairs and the door of the room where his father was. Two moments later he saw Landis exit and walk towards him.
“He’s awake, Your Highness, but has asked to see the merchant who saved his life. Once that formality is out of the way, I’ll tell him you’re here. You’ll get more time with him then.”
Disappointed, Arkyn watched Landis escorting Fullerton to the room with a hand under the merchant’s elbow. He wanted to run to his father, explain the dread he’d felt, the sudden knowledge of how little he knew but he didn’t move. He heard a commotion at the bottom of the stairs and moved until he saw Wynfeld arriving with several men.
