Betrayal (12 page)

It was Merkhud’s turn to roar. ‘Well, you could have fooled me! Her heart is fragile, Lorys. Shocks of this magnitude could end her life like that!’ He snapped his fingers.

‘I hear you, Merkhud.’ Lorys had regained his composure and stood to his full height.

‘Good. Leave the matter with me. Now, I must go and tend to the castle ailments long in need of my care.’

Merkhud straightened his long tunic and started to leave but the King stepped forward and grasped his arm.

‘Thank you.’

The old man looked at the King and saw his eyes were glistening with tears. He loved Lorys as a son and, like any father, could not blame the man for falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. Merkhud reached for the King’s shoulder and shook it gently, then he left with the ever inquisitive Drake trailing him to the door.

Merkhud was not sure why he did so but he leaned across towards the tall woman who stood in the doorway with him and kissed her soft cheek. She flushed with embarrassment.

‘Teach him well.’ He bowed and left.

Entering the inn he called an order to the keeper and walked towards a dark corner, grateful the place was having a quiet morning. Marrien had surprised him. She was entirely without guile. He felt ashamed for thinking the girl had had anything other than honourable intentions when she posted her notice which flushed out a King.

Her recently born son was strong, healthy and loved, and even on the paltry wage she earned Merkhud could see she would provide a stable home for her child. She wanted nothing from Lorys. Marrien had explained to the Royal Physic that she
had had no previous notion as to who had helped her that night in the woods. All she knew was that both men had been gentle and gallant towards her. The one with the short hair and beard had made her laugh when she least wanted to, and the brooding one, who deferred to the other, made her feel safe. She had not meant to tempt the first, whose merry eyes and wit had captivated her, but she had felt lonely and scared through the night. Also she didn’t know how to thank them. She smiled ruefully and agreed with Merkhud that the payment she had given was magnanimous to say the least.

‘It happened. What more is there to say? I was glad to give my maidenhood to the man with the lovely voice and smiling eyes. Better him than those gypsies. It would have stopped there, for I knew not his name nor from where they came and I had no need to trouble his life further.’

Merkhud, recalling that conversation, had his thoughts disrupted when the ale was banged down on the table. He did not acknowledge it, returning to his recollection of her explanation when he had asked her how she had found out who the father of her child was.

‘Some friends persuaded me to use my few saved pennies to travel with them into Tal to see one of the plays in the amphitheatre. As dusk fell the word went around that the King and Queen would be attending the first half of the show. Light! We were all so excited. I had only ever heard about how handsome King Lorys is and our Queen being such a beauty.’

Marrien explained that she had nearly fainted when the royal couple arrived and she recognised him instantly, even from a distance.

‘My ears began to ring and I thought I was going to return all the lovely food I’d just eaten. All I could see was the kind, wonderful man who had kept me safe and held me when I was scared and made it possible for me to begin a new life away from my father. The same man who had given me the child moving that very moment in my womb.’

She told Merkhud how everyone had clapped and cheered for the couple who looked so happy together. How they had smiled and clapped their subjects back, making everyone cheer harder. Marrien said the people around her began to discuss how tragic it was that such a fine couple had not produced an heir to the throne. Inevitably their conversation became more bawdy and they began to joke that the King might not be made of the right stuff to produce a son.

‘And so you decided to tell him,’ Merkhud prompted quietly.

Marrien went to pains to assure Merkhud once again that she required nothing from the King. ‘I tried to think of a secret way to let him know that he could and had fathered a son. I never wanted to talk to him or meet with him. I had no intention of disrupting his life. This was the only way I could think of,’ she said sadly. ‘I realise now that it probably frightened him. In my mind I just saw him registering that the man I spoke of was him.’

‘You thought he might ignore it?’ Merkhud asked incredulously.

She nodded, clearly upset; she had not counted on bringing Lorys any trouble.

‘And what will you do now?’ Merkhud asked, wondering at the great list of requirements she might reel off.

But she had surprised him.

Marrien sniffed, looking up in confusion from the large red handkerchief she had borrowed from him. ‘Why, nothing, sir. I shall raise the boy to love his King…and his Queen. Their majesties will never hear from us again but we will remain ever loyal to Tallinor.’

Merkhud remembered how her deep hazel eyes had sparkled as she confirmed her allegiance. She would take no money from him, saying she was more content than she could ever remember, that she was still able to earn their keep and as long as she could feed and clothe them, she was truly happy. Her conviction had impressed him. Finally, as though a candle had been lit in his head, he thought of a way around the growing problem. He knew Lorys would insist on the child being cared for from his purse somehow.

‘Why don’t you work for me?’ he had blurted.

Merkhud explained that he had a small team of women around the capital who made various herbal sachets for him which he used in his medicines.

‘I can sorely use a young, deft pair of hands and you can work from your home and be with the boy all of the time.’

He recalled how her eyes had lit up then, and smiled as he remembered the way she had thrown her arms around him and hugged him tight. He had insisted she would move into a tiny cottage of her own on the outskirts of Wytten, gently but firmly explaining that no son of the sovereign, bastard or otherwise, could be raised in any other manner.

‘I promise that only you and myself will have knowledge of this arrangement. Not even the King will be privy,’ he had said, holding her hand tightly for emphasis.

Marrien was satisfied with this and agreed to let Merkhud make arrangements for her transfer. Before he left, he exacted a promise that should she ever need anything for the boy, she should speak only to him personally.

He gave the child, the present heir to the throne, a cuddle before he left, and as he did so felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach for Nyria whom he loved so profoundly. He knew she would give her own life to bear a child for her beloved Lorys but her womb had never quickened, and though she carried her sadness with grace he saw it in her face every day.

Merkhud came back to the present with a jolt as the inn door slammed and an excited boy rushed through, yelling.

Merkhud had not caught what the boy was saying and stopped a lass who was scuttling past him towards the kitchen. ‘What’s going on?’

‘He says there’s some huge commotion up at the castle. A rider has come in with grave news.’

Merkhud shot to his feet. ‘Ho, innkeeper! What does this boy say?’

The innkeeper shrugged but could hardly contain his own excitement. ‘I know not. He’s newly returned from a delivery to Tal and the city is rife with some alarming news but we don’t know what.’ He shook his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

Merkhud tossed some coins onto the counter. ‘Have my horse brought immediately. He’s the black stallion at the village stable. Hurry, man!’

The innkeeper barked orders to one of the children outside and flipped him a penny. Merkhud paced outside the inn and scowled at the middle-aged stablehand who came cantering up on Stygian.

‘A fine horse, sir,’ the man said conversationally, not reading Merkhud’s tense look.

Merkhud paid him without a word, took the reins, grumbled something, then mounted and urged his horse towards Tal.

‘Guess you’re in a hurry then, sir…we’ll see you next time,’ the slightly slow stablehand called after him.

Merkhud arrived back at the Palace sweating from the hour’s hasty ride. The castle was in chaos with people rushing around and soldiers making hasty preparations to depart. He looked towards the royal wing and could see Nyria at one of the windows watching the activity. He raised his hand and she did the same. Callum, the page who Merkhud knew now
served the King daily, trotted by wearing an earnest expression.

‘Callum, m’boy, what happens here?’ Merkhud asked, holding out Stygian’s reins to an approaching stablehand. He held up his hand as the page was about to answer and turned to the stablehand. ‘The horse needs a good rub down and water him gradually—he’s been galloping hard from Wytten and he needs to cool slowly.’

The lad nodded and led the snorting horse away.

‘Apologies, Callum. Now explain, please, quickly.’

‘A rider came in an hour ago with news that Prime Cyrus has disappeared. The Company will be returning sometime today from its overnight camp at Brewis.’ The boy was surprisingly concise.

‘Light preserve us! Is there any more?’

‘No. That’s all I overheard but I must make haste to the King. He has urgent errands for me.’ The boy looked overwhelmed with the excitement of the morning.

‘I’ll come with you; lead the way.’

Nyria met them before they arrived at the King’s study. ‘I presume you’ve heard?’ She was as calm as ever and gorgeous in blue today.

Merkhud’s heart did its regular flip when she laid her hand on his arm. ‘I have, madam, but only that Cyrus has disappeared. Nothing else.’

He covered her elegant hand with his own and felt the familiar tingle of longing he frequently quelled in her presence.

‘Come, we’ll go to him together.’

She linked her arm with his and told Callum to go on and let the King know Merkhud had been found.

‘Oh? Were you looking for me?’ he said, surprised.

‘You know how Lorys likes to have you near, Merkhud. Where have you been, you secretive old thing?’ She couldn’t help smiling at how she disconcerted him with such ease.

‘Nowhere particular. I was recruiting a girl for my remedies, madam…er…over at Wytten.’ If only you knew what I’d been doing, he thought with no little guilt.

‘Oh, recruitment—is that what they call it these days?’ she said laughing. She covered her lips with a hand, eyes dancing above at the innuendo in her words.

Only Nyria could unbalance Merkhud. He stopped the stammering excuse which came readily and held his tongue so his mind could catch up. ‘Don’t tease me, Nyria. I’m no match for you.’

Even her smile made his heart pound.

‘Well, gather your wits then, Merkhud, because he’ll need your clear head today,’ she said, unlinking her arm and stepping lightly through the door which Callum dutifully held open.

Tor! Wake up!
Tor was startled awake so violently he fell off the bed. Cloot’s voice had none of its normal humour. It was thick with alarm.

Cloot, what in the name of—

Move, Tor, hurry!
Cloot was shouting into his sleepy head.

Eryn was awake but groggy; she sat up on her elbows, her magnificent breasts exposed, and peered through tousled hair and half-open light grey eyes at Tor who was sitting naked on the floor.

‘Tor, what are you doing?’ She giggled, slightly dazed.

‘Sssh…go back to sleep, Eryn.’

She fell back on the bed and mumbled something unintelligible. Tor picked himself up and pulled on his breeches whilst he listened to Cloot’s anxious voice.

It’s Lys. She came tonight. She insisted we leave immediately for Tal. She means right this moment, Tor, and she wouldn’t leave my head until I’d promised on my mother’s own life that I would convince you to ride tonight.

Tor was pulling on his shirt.
Did she say why we needed to do this?
He was working hard at making it sound like a sane conversation.

Eryn moaned lightly. He hoped dearly it was a dream about him and not Margolin.

Cloot couldn’t hide his exasperation.
Well, let’s see now. Perhaps she thought we might enjoy an early morning ride together?

He bit back on the sarcasm but fortunately Tor was still too groggy to be offended by it.
Tor, the moment she mentioned your name, I presumed we should both heed her warnings.

You mean I’m in danger?
Tor said, pulling on his boots.

She didn’t say that. She just told me that we had to leave without a second’s waste. We must ride through the night to a village called Brewis. Do you know it?

Tor yawned.
No, but I know of it. Merkhud suggested I stay there on my way. I gather it’s one of the fringe villages before the capital.

She said we must go in order to—and these are her words not mine—save him because Tor needs him. Don’t waste time asking who because she did not enlighten me.

Tor’s questions hung heavy across the link but he was becoming accustomed to the strange path his life
was taking him along. There had to be some greater purpose to all of its curious twists and turns. He was beginning to accept his instincts were more use to him right now than his ability to reason.

I’m ready, Cloot.

Good. Where are you anyway?

Too long to explain. I’m on my way.

Tor closed the link and began hurriedly scribbling a note to the gorgeous, sleeping Eryn. He thanked his stars that his father’s habitual recommendation to always keep a scrap of paper and a stick of charcoal on one’s person had finally paid off. She deserved better and he wished he could leave her something. In the end he pulled off the gemstone he wore on a chain around his wrist. Merkhud had given it to him for good luck on his journey. He left the note by her bedside, kissed her lips lightly and, with hefty regret, tiptoed out of the room. He found his way to the main door, cursed the noise it made as it swung open, ignored the voice enquiring behind him, and left.

It could only have been a couple of hours or so they had enjoyed together. It was still pitch dark with several hours to dawn. Tor moved swiftly through familiar, empty lanes and in his room at The Empty Goblet found Cloot dressed as an old crone.

Don’t you dare laugh
, Cloot warned gravely.

Would I? Come on. We have to get the horses yet.

Tor left more than sufficient coin to cover his expenses for the room and meals then they climbed out of the small window and onto the rooftops. Gingerly they made their way to a spot where Tor
knew it would be easy to climb down into the lanes, and then headed for the stables. Tor was rapidly trying to come up with an excuse for waking the stablemaster. As it turned out, they did not have to: the young boy, Bart, was emptying his bladder against the side of the barn. He leapt into the air when Tor touched his shoulder, staining his breeches. Cloot produced a coin which silenced the lad’s bellows and persuaded him to open the stable.

Cloot stroked both horses’ heads. He whispered to them strange words which Tor could hear but not understand. Then Cloot pulled something out of his bag. It was impossible in the dark to make out what it was but the horses gobbled it down happily.

Cloot’s sturdy stallion was called Fleet. Despite its size, he still looked ridiculous with his legs astride, wearing skirts.

‘Are you sure the…er…lady wouldn’t prefer side-saddle, master Tor,’ said the stableboy, quietly impressed with the old girl.

‘Ah no, she prefers it this way. Thanks, Bart.’

Tor couldn’t steer Bess off fast enough; Fleet followed steadily. Fortunately Hatten’s gates were rarely closed and they cantered through as quietly as possible onto the open road to Tal.

How long, Cloot?

Lys said to ride fast through the night and we’d make it before dawn.

All right, then…and she gave us nothing more on what this is about?
Tor asked, easing Bess into a trot.

No, or I would tell you.

I’m not sure our horses can gallop through the night, Cloot, to be honest. Are you comfortable riding, by the way?

Don’t worry about me or our horses—I’ve taken care of it. Just get going.
With that Cloot slapped his horse into a gallop.

They arrived on the outskirts of Brewis as the deep ink of the sky was being diluted with emerging daylight. Tor knew both of them should be exhausted from the ride but he felt exhilarated from the excitement of the horses thundering along the Tal road at such speed. He had never broken into more than a canter with Bess on his way to Hatten and had felt her incapable of so swift a pace. Cloot’s horse seemed fresh enough to do it all again. It was impossible that they had ridden so far so fast.

As they slowed their mounts to walk up the same rise where Cyrus and his lieutenants had been the afternoon previous, Tor looked at Cloot. Both of them were breathing hard but the horses were not.

How?

An enchantment
, Cloot answered smoothly and instantly, as though he had expected the question.

You?
Tor sounded incredulous.

Why the surprise? Lys picked me for some reason and now she is equipping me, I suppose. I have no idea, to be honest.
Cloot grinned and looked across towards the finger of the Great Forest.

Why didn’t you tell me you possessed such magic?
Tor was not sure if he was offended or thrilled.

Because I didn’t know I had it until I spoke to the horses. This is all a new experience for me, and if your mind wasn’t so closed perhaps you’d have felt it.

What do you mean?
Tor turned sharply towards his friend.

Talking to you feels different since last night.
Cloot shrugged.

Tor was puzzled momentarily, and then realised that in veiling against Miss Vylet he had almost cut himself off from the flow of power around him.

Is this better?
he asked hopefully.

Much!
replied Cloot, questions written over his ugly face.

Tor sighed as though disappointed.
My fault. I have so much to learn.

Cloot said no more but as they stopped at the top of the rise and looked towards Brewis, he put a huge, reassuring hand on Tor’s shoulder.

‘All right, now what do we do?’ Tor said aloud.

The reply in his head was sharp.
Over there.
Cloot pointed to where they could see the King’s Men who had recently left Hatten. Some of them were breaking camp sluggishly; others still lay on the ground, presumably asleep.

Tor turned Bess to see better.
Are those men hurt, do you think?

No, or the others would be raising an alarm. It’s strange though.

They waited, unsure of whether Lys meant them to go on to Brewis to find the man they were searching for, or if indeed he was amongst the unit they watched.

Cloot got off his horse and removed the skirt and shawls which had covered his real clothes.
No need of these for a while
, he said, tucking them into his sack before climbing back into the saddle.
Perhaps we should—

He did not finish for a cry had gone up. Men were running in several directions.

Let’s go!
Tor didn’t wait for a reply; he dug his heels into Bess and they headed for the camp.

Moments later he was guiding the horses through the alarmed unit of men, making straight for the only tent, where he presumed the Prime would be. He was stopped by a grey-faced man whom he recognised as Captain Herek from the inn.

‘Captain Herek, do you remember me from Hatten? I’m Torkyn Gynt. Er…Prime Cyrus and I spent some time together.’

‘Ay, I remember you, lad, but this is no time for reunions. What are you doing here?’

Tor’s mind raced. What was he doing here indeed? What plausible excuse could he give to explain this unexpected arrival before dawn?

Cloot rescued him.
Tell him we decided to ride with the Company after all.

Herek was staring at Tor as though he were simple. ‘Did you hear me, boy?’

‘Yes, Captain, I’m sorry. Um, Prime Cyrus suggested I ride with you as I am bound for the
Palace, but at the time I chose not to. Once you had all left, I realised it was an unwise decision and I decided to catch up with the unit.’

It was thin but the man was clearly in a state of stress and hardly heard the explanation.

‘Captain…is something wrong?’ Tor asked quietly.

Herek rubbed his eyes. A soldier raced up and saluted, his face stiff with shock.

‘How many?’ Herek snapped.

‘All four, sir…er, including Lieutenant Royce.’

Tor noticed Herek’s jaw clench. ‘And the Prime?’

‘Nothing yet, sir.’

‘Thank you, Linus. Help Medlin assemble the men. I want this camp broken and the Company ready to move by full daybreak. Get the er…four wrapped and on their mounts. I’ll want you to ride ahead to Tal. Report back as fast as you can for my briefing.’ He continued to clench and unclench his jaw.

Linus snapped another salute and left. The sky was lightening rapidly around them and Tor noticed all the men were up and moving now. There was an eerie silence around the camp.

‘Captain Herek, what’s happened here?’

Herek barely contained his impatience. ‘No offence, Gynt, but I have a lot to deal with just at the moment and I’m not at liberty to make light conversation with civilians. If you wish to ride with us, that’s fine. You may join at the back of the column.’

It was a dismissal. Herek had already turned on his heel and was moving away. Tor was stumped.

Let’s see if we can find Cyrus.
Cloot’s quiet words refocused him.

They began threading their way through the lines of men organising to depart. A heavy atmosphere pervaded the camp—
one of confusion
, Cloot said in Tor’s head.

More like shock. They’re hardly even speaking to one another. What in Light’s name could have happened, I wonder? And what did Herek mean by telling that man to wrap the four?

At that Tor spotted Riss. He waved and was relieved to see the man lift his hand. ‘Ho, Riss! Good to see you.’

The craggy soldier observed him through narrowed eyes which showed a lifetime of suspicion.

‘Is it indeed? And you travel with the freak now, eh?’

Tor felt Cloot stiffen behind him.

‘Yes, as you can see he healed well with the doctor’s help…and yours.’ He enjoyed unbalancing Riss with the compliment.

Golag sidled out of a group of men and came up behind his companion. ‘You again!’ His voiced had lost none of its harshness: it seemed to rumble rather than speak. ‘How was that Eryn anyway? Bet she spread her legs wide and willingly for a young buck like you, eh?’

He laughed his horrible laugh, grabbed his crotch for emphasis and spat solidly. Tor was no longer embarrassed or shocked by Golag. It seemed that being deliberately vulgar was the only manner he knew.

‘Yes, Golag, she was utterly delicious and just wild for me.’ He smiled his brightest smile and heard Cloot chuckle in his head.

So that’s where you were last night, eh?

Tor ignored him. ‘Riss, where’s the Prime?’

‘Ah, so it’s information you be wanting again then, boy. Last time you paid handsomely for it. Our price hasn’t changed.’

Golag stretched his rotten-toothed leer behind his negotiating friend.

Tor ignored Golag and directed his conversation at Riss. ‘It was just a simple question, Riss, but forget it. I’m sure Cyrus—when I do find him and can pass on the urgent message from the Mayor of Hatten—will be pleased to hear how well you helped me.’

He turned to walk away. Cloot followed, most impressed with the bluff.

‘Wait!’ Riss was no longer smiling. ‘What message?’

Tor turned back slowly. ‘I told you. An urgent message from the Mayor and I promised I’d hand it to Cyrus myself just as soon as I caught up with the King’s Company. It may even be from King Lorys himself, who knows?’ His eyes sparkled.

Well, you are learning fast
, Cloot muttered.

‘See you in Tal then.’ Once more Tor walked a few steps.

‘All right, Gynt. I’m not about to kiss away my wages on your behalf. What’s the message?’ Riss was rattled and it pleased Tor no small amount that he’d been able to do this.

‘Sorry, Riss. Prime’s ears only. Hurry, man, time is short and I’m moving on to Tal. This is just a favour for the Mayor.’

It was Golag who answered. ‘The Prime disappeared in the night. No one knows where. Four sentries were slain also.’ He stopped abruptly, as was his way.

Tor’s bravado was suddenly replaced by shock. ‘How could he disappear with two hundred men around him?’

‘Poison is how,’ Golag sneered.