Call of the Kings (6 page)

‘Where to?’

‘I thought Denmark. Swein and his men are acting with the brutality and savagery of the Viking so why don’t we arrange it so they live with them?’

‘What about Swein’s father, Godwine, and his brothers. Won’t they object?’

‘Probably,’ said the old wizard gleefully. ‘But they can go as well if they like!’

Two weeks after the abbess was rescued, the archbishop invited Twilight and Tara to London to meet the king. It was the anniversary of Edward’s coronation and would be marked by a grand dinner.

Katre decided that Tara needed a proper dress. A grand dinner with the king and queen and all the courtiers and noblemen of the land would be a formal affair and require, at the very least, the usually scruffy little tyro to look presentable. The only problem was that Swein’s father, Godwine, and his two brothers, Beorn and Harold, would also be there. As earls of the realm their presence was required at such a grand state occasion.

Twilight was looking forward to the encounter.

When they arrived they were greeted by the archbishop, who quickly drew Twilight and Tara, resplendent in a green floor length silk dress made by Katre to match her eyes, to one side.

‘I have just had some news that I must share with you,’ he said behind his hand. ‘I placed the Abbess of Leominster in a quiet retreat the church has in the country. We use it for contemplation and recuperation for those in the front line who need to reacquaint themselves with God. This afternoon news reached me that she has left the retreat and is on her way to Denmark . . . to join Swein.’

Twilight raised an eyebrow at Tara, who was plainly surprised by the news.

‘I thought I’d better tell you before Godwine and his sons begin to gloat because they’re sure to know. Probably arranged her escape and passage.’

‘Thank you,’ said the old wizard. ‘Somehow, I’m not as surprised as I should be.’

‘Well I am,’ said Tara with her hands on her hips. ‘I believed her.’

The archbishop ushered them into the line that was waiting to be introduced to the king and queen. Twilight spoke to Tara’s mind.

The lesson here is a salutary one. When we rescued her I didn’t explore Edgiva’s mind out of deference to her plight. Had I done so, what do you think I would have found? A great big candle burning brightly for the unspeakable - and as far as I’m concerned unknowable - abuse handed out to her by ‘that ogre’ Swein.

Tara replied and then continued.

He was right. He said she wouldn’t want to leave him . . . ever.

In front of them Robert of Jumieges bowed and kissed the king’s heavily be-ringed hand, then introduced them both as ‘Tara and Twilight, the remarkable wizards I told you about, your highness.’

Edward the Confessor was a short, portly man with alert brown eyes and a pointed beard. He held his hand out to Tara, who didn’t know whether to kiss it or shake it, so she ignored it and fixed him with her bright green eyes.

‘Tara, the tyro Irish wizard. I’ve heard a great deal about you, young lady. I hope you’re not going to turn any of my guests into goats tonight.’ He raised his eyebrows and rounded his eyes in mock severity for an answer.

‘Depends,’ said Tara, twisting her silk dress into a nervous ball at the hem.

‘On what, pray?’ The king’s eyes sparkled.

‘On how well you look after my master here.’ Tara indicated Twilight.

The king laughed and moved his eyes to Twilight and bowed. ‘You, sir, are most welcome. Your tyro Tara is a most mettlesome creature and must be a delight to teach in your magical ways. I am looking forward to discussing many aspects of this with you and would take it as a great honour if you would sit next to me during our meal this evening.’

‘It would be a pleasure, my lord,’ Twilight replied, giving him a short bow in return.

It would be a pleasure, my lord!
Tara mimicked to his mind.

You’ll be the one turned into a goat if you don’t behave yourself,
he replied, moving her forward with a gentle push to Queen Ealdgyth with a smile of greeting on his face.

Before the meal began there was a period of introductions between other guests during which wine was served in great pewter tumblers. Twilight and Tara refused. Although she was still eating, drinking, and sleeping, the enchantments were gradually taking over these functions. Alcohol, however, was not allowed by any veneficus. It interfered with the necessary physiology and could cause any number of serious mishaps should they be called upon to use their skills whilst under its influence.

The archbishop introduced them to several others before, looking over Twilight’s shoulder, his face hardened.

‘My dear archbishop,’ said an oily, deep voice.

‘Good evening, Earl Godwine,’ Robert Jumieges replied stiffly. ‘These must be the two wizards I’ve heard so much about.’

Twilight turned to look into a pair of hazel eyes glinting with malice above a large hooked nose.

The archbishop made the introductions tersely. Godwine was accompanied by his other two sons, Harold and Beorn, both having the hazel eyes and hooked nose of what was obviously Godwine family facial characteristics. They made no attempt to hide their enmity toward Jumieges, the three pairs of hazel eyes making it obvious that there was no love lost between the Godwines and the archbishop, who quickly made his excuses and moved away.

When he was out of earshot Godwine leaned in close to Twilight and muttered in his deep, oily voice.

‘I bear no grudge against you for sending my son Swein into exile. He is a deranged fanatic whose behaviour deserved nothing less. Indeed, had you decided to kill him I would not have been surprised and would have accepted it as just punishment for his kidnapping of the abbess.’

By his side Harold and Beorn nodded vigorously, demonstrating that family opinion on this matter of the behaviour of the younger brother was unified. Or, to put it another way, whatever Godwine said, his sons had better agree with.

Twilight nodded in a tacit appreciation of their understanding. As he did so he took a look inside Godwine’s head. Edgiva, the abbess, was to the fore as was all sorts of treachery. The sons’ minds were smaller versions of the father. They had arranged Edgiva’s escape and passage to Denmark. Even more disturbing, they were actively involved in an attempt to usurp the king. Soldiers and arms were being prepared secretly at several places around England, and the attacks were imminent, a fact that Godwine lost no time in bringing to Twilight’s attention.

‘I wonder,’ Godwine said, grasping his elbow and speaking close to the old wizard’s face again, ‘if you would be interested in joining my sons and I in a little, shall we say, intrigue against the monarchy?’ He nodded toward a group of people clustered around Edward. ‘We could certainly make good use of your skills in getting rid of those that would oppose us.’

Feigning surprise Twilight affected a neutral shrug. This nasty, oily old man and his sons were the last people on this turning earth he would join. No wonder Robert Jumieges did not like them.

Tara, engaged in conversation by Beorn, looked at him.

No wonder Swein is what he is. The whole family are like it. They look like ideal goat material to me . . . permanently.

Say nothing of any consequence,
Twilight replied.
They don’t know what they don’t know, so let’s keep it that way.

‘Perhaps we could meet after the dinner, somewhere discreet?’ The oily voice was speaking close to his ear again.

‘Perhaps,’ Twilight replied.

A red and gold liveried herald called them to the large, U-shaped table groaning with food, and they took their places. With the king on his left and Tara his right, Twilight looked around the long table to see where the Godwines were. The oily old earl was quite close, just three people down on the other side facing them, his hooked nose already buried in a pewter goblet of wine. Both his sons were further down. As soon as they were seated and the archbishop had said grace, Edward the Confessor engaged Twilight in conversation. He wanted to know everything Twilight could tell him, starting with Merlin and King Arthur to the present day, and paid particular attention to the period with King Alfred and the Viking. After listening avidly throughout the meal, to the complete detriment of his wife on his other side, to Twilight’s low-voiced account of the many events he’d shared with King Alfred, now known as Alfred the Great after his long time as monarch, Edward replied sincerely.

‘King Alfred was my role model. I learned a great deal about sovereignty, defense, and governance of people from studying his long reign. Did you become close friends throughout those savage and brutal battles against the Viking?’

Twilight considered his answer carefully. He didn’t want to open up the old debate about Christianity versus the enchantments because Edward, known as the ‘Confessor’ due to his great piety and deep attachment to the Christian Church, would not agree. He decided to approach the matter from the standpoint of the independence of a veneficus from the monarchy.

‘Following Merlin’s subsequent repentance of his role alongside King Arthur, he taught me that we venefici have to be very careful about getting drawn in to the causes of charismatic kings. I was always careful about getting too close to King Alfred, although I did develop a huge respect for his abilities, bravery, and farsighted reforms.’

‘Very diplomatic.’ Edward laughed. ‘Your talents are wasted as a wizard - you should become an ambassador.’

He lifted his hand to his mouth in order that his words would not be heard elsewhere.

‘A king’s veneficus should also be a permanent fixture at court.

Occupancy of the throne of England is a precarious thing. Your skills would prove an invaluable aid in deflecting and dissecting all the gossip, intrigue, lies, and other attempts to usurp the monarchy.’

This was the opening Twilight had been waiting for.

Your majesty. Try not to look surprised, but I’m speaking directly to your mind now in order that my words are not overheard by others, some of whom are close by and mean to challenge your position through an armed rebellion any day now. I was approached earlier by a senior earl and his two sons, also earls, with yet another son banished by me to Denmark, to see if I was interested in joining them. Following this approach I briefly read their minds, and soldiers are ready to attack at various locations around the country.

The king’s face drained of all colour and he looked at Twilight in something approaching disbelief. Gradually the black eyes of the wizard revealed their sincerity and the words began to sink in. The king began to nod slowly. Finally he put an unsteady hand back to his mouth, this time holding a silk napkin and muttered.

‘A senior earl with two sons who are also earls and another banished can only mean one person. There is a paradox here. It is largely due to the support of this person that I was crowned king in the first place, and I am married to his daughter!’

It is that person I am referring to. There is no doubt as to his actions. Whatever made him support you has changed, or it may have been his intention all along. Don’t worry, with your permission I’ll attend to it.

Edward’s pleading eyes gave him away. He wanted Twilight to

attend to it very much indeed.

Throughout the meal and this exchange the Earl Godwine had been observing their conversation very closely. He wasn’t close enough to hear them, but his senses told him something was being discussed, and judging by the king’s pallor, he had a good idea what it might be.

Damn that sorcerer, he shouldn’t have said anything to him.

Godwine leapt to his feet. Raising his goblet he waited dramatically until all conversation had petered out before clearing his throat. Queen Ealdgyth nudged her husband to pay attention; her father was about to speak. With his oily voice raised to carry across the room, Godwine spoke.

‘My lords and ladies. I wish to drink a toast and a pledge to our beloved king and my precious son-in-law and the noblest liege of England. Edward, I pledge my complete support and loyalty to you and consider myself your most obedient, patriotic, and trustworthy subject. My lands are your lands, my men are your men, and my heart is yours to command . . . and will be always. With this wine I will also take this morsel of bread.’ He held up a small piece of bread. ‘May this morsel of fine bread choke me if even in thought, dear Edward, I have ever been false to you.’

With great ceremony he placed the morsel of bread in his mouth and pointed his pewter goblet in the direction of the king. Receiving a nod from Edward and a great beaming smile of pride from his daughter, the queen, he upended the goblet to wash the bread down as a round of cheering broke out from the assembled diners led by his two sons.

Then he began to cough and splutter and gasp for breath. By the time his two sons got to him and started bashing him on the back it was too late.

He had choked to death . . . the prophetic morsel of bread had exacted the ultimate price.

As his very last gasp met with the immovable, impermeable obstruction lodged in his airway, a clear voice entered his mind.

‘The final moment of your treacherous eternity has just arrived, Godwine. Good-bye.’