Exile's Return (Book 1) (32 page)

‘Hah! I’ve never even met a Malachi.’

‘That you know of – and let’s face it, you didn’t know it this time, did you? I think you and I need to do a bit of revision over the next few weeks. In the meantime, while she’s still here, see if you can find out a bit more about her. Where she comes from, who her friends are, that kind of thing. I shouldn’t need to tell you how dangerous it is for both of us to have her here under this roof. If she should discover anything …’

‘You wouldn’t kill her?’ Finnlay demanded, faintly.

Robert paused, but knew what his answer was. With Malachi there was no middle ground, no room for exceptions. ‘She’s Malachi, Finn, and you know what that means. Let’s just make sure she leaves here in perfect ignorance. Keep her away from this room. I’ve got too many illicit books in here. She’d recognize most of them and know the truth immediately. Tonight, during our meeting, Micah will keep an eye on her. If she does anything, anything at all, I’ll trust you to fetch me immediately.’

‘Aye, my lord,’ Micah smiled grimly. ‘It’ll be a pleasure.’

*

Owen had built the fire up in the winter parlour in preparation for the meeting, but in such a small room Robert found the heat stifling and he loosened the throat of his black tunic. Through the closed door he could hear laughter and occasional melodies coming from the hall. All of his people were in there, enjoying the dying hours of the banquet, Valena and her guard, Micah, among them. Silently Robert prayed the Malachi would not provoke him. In these close confines, he would have only one response – and in
that moment, he would reveal the secret he’d kept close all these years. His people would desert him, his name would be anathema and his life would be in danger from both Guilde and Church. Not even Selar would protect him – should he want to.

And sorcery would once again become a reality for everyone for the first time in almost a century.

Robert leaned back in his chair and fingered the silver goblet before him. It had been given to his father by King Edward on the day of his ascension. The lip was inlaid with turquoise and on the bowl lay an eagle, its wings spread wide. This same eagle appeared on the Douglas arms, on the ring Robert wore and on the hilt of the sword resting on the table before him. Around the throat of the eagle was inscribed one word:
Fideli.
Faithful.

But faithful to what?

He took in a deep breath and tried to relax. This first winter at home was proving difficult. Yes, there were days when he was glad to be back, but there were many more days when he felt restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate. There was too much unresolved, too many questions he was never likely to find answers to. And now that he was here – and everybody knew it – he was confined within his own castle once more, trapped in a prison of his own making. The rewards of fidelity.

And now Daniel sat at the table opposite him, putting the finishing touches to a schedule of patrols they’d planned together with Harold. Patrols that would hopefully find these raiders, even as they drew Selar’s attention with their size. Owen had cautioned him against increasing his army, but in truth, Robert was more concerned with the risk to his people from these raiders than from the King.

‘Well,’ Daniel placed his pen down and glanced up at Robert, ‘I think that should cover us for the next few months. When they get more active with the spring thaws we’ll have a better chance of catching them.’

‘And if that doesn’t work,’ Finnlay added, ‘then we should return to the idea of setting up a few garrisons. If we can’t
catch them, then at the very least, we can inhibit their movements.’

Harold slammed his hand down on the table. ‘Damn you, you’re deliberately missing the point! You must have heard those rumours yourself. There are people who really believe these raids are the work of Tirone. He plans to wreak havoc on us. Why can’t you see that?’

Robert shook his head. ‘You have no proof of that. Let’s face it, these raiders are not so different from the usual bands of robbers Lusara has always suffered from. Yes, they seem more organized, but that doesn’t mean they work to a specific plan. Nor do they choose their targets with war in mind. They stay away from towns and hit isolated farms, small villages. There is little to compare with the Troubles and you know it.’

Harold sighed and leaned back in his chair. He scratched his beard then reached out for more wine. ‘I suppose these patrols will help. If nothing else, when you go back to court, you will be in a good position to insist Selar does something to aid us.’ He grinned. ‘Of course, I don’t think Vaughn’s going to be exactly delighted to see you again. I’d love to see the smirk wiped off his greedy face. I’ll see what I can do about arranging a visit to court to coincide with yours, Robert.’

‘Don’t go making any plans. I won’t be going back to court.’

‘But how can you do anything from here? You’re too far away to exert any real influence! Selar will never take you seriously.’

‘I don’t intend to exert any influence. I’ve retired from all that. I told you that when I first came back. I’ve been away three years and I’ve decided that what I most want is some peace and quiet. You’ll have to look to someone else for help. I don’t care any more.’

Harold launched out of his seat, toppling the chair over in the process. ‘I don’t believe that! Not you, Robert! Not a Douglas, of all people! Hell, your father would turn in his
grave to hear you talk like that. You must do something. People depend on you!’

Robert finally turned his gaze on the other man. ‘If you feel so strongly about it, why don’t you do something yourself? I have no power any more, no position, and despite what you say, no support from the other Houses. I gave all that up when I left. I knew what I was doing, Harold.’

There was a brief knock at the door and Finnlay rose to answer it. It was Deverin, and he whispered something to Finnlay, who frowned and followed him out, closing the door behind him.

Robert tensed. Was it Valena? No, it couldn’t be. Micah would have come, not Deverin. Then what was it? Where had Finnlay gone – and why?

*

Finnlay stood in the corridor and took in a deep breath. It had been so difficult not to voice his agreement with Harold, but he had promised himself and he would keep to that vow no matter what. Finnlay cared, even if Robert didn’t. There must be some other way to change Robert’s mind.

But: Deverin waited, so Finnlay left the argument behind and took off down the corridor. He avoided the hall completely and arrived at the guard room unseen by any of the guests. It was dark in here, with only a single candle to light the face of the man who greeted him. Finnlay took a few steps forward.

‘Is he here?’ the man whispered hoarsely. His face was haggard and there were dark lines of exhaustion around his eyes. Mud caked his clothing and his fair hair and he walked with the gait of a man who had spent days in the saddle.

‘Please, Finnlay, tell me if he’s really here.’

Slowly, Finnlay nodded. ‘Robert’s here. I’ll take you to him.’

He turned back into the corridor, knowing the man would follow him. What was going on? What would Robert say?

Not that it mattered. After his … discussion with Harold, Robert was unlikely to be moved by anything this man said. By the gods, how could his brother be so intractable?

There were raised voices coming from within the winter parlour, but Finnlay didn’t pause. He pushed the door open and stepped aside to let the other man enter. Robert looked up – then shot to his feet.

‘Payne – in the name of the gods, what are you doing here?’

‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ the young man murmured, his voice weak, ‘I had to come …’

Fearing Payne would collapse, Finnlay took his arm and led him to a chair, then poured him some wine. Payne drank greedily as Robert pulled up a seat opposite him. The others gathered around, exchanging frowns.

‘I can’t believe you’d risk something like this,’ Robert hissed, pulling a plate of bread and cheese across the table. ‘How long have you ridden?’

Payne drained his cup, then put it slowly down on the table. He ignored the food, instead reaching out to touch Robert’s shoulder. ‘I don’t know. Days. It doesn’t matter. I had to come. I had to be sure it was true. By the gods, Robert, I’m so glad you’re back.’

Robert frowned then glanced up at Finnlay. ‘Did anyone see him arrive?’

‘Only Deverin. He brought Payne in personally. No one knows he’s here.’

‘Good.’ Robert turned back to Payne. ‘Listen, Everard, you’ve taken a huge risk coming here like this. Is there any chance Selar will find out? You know what will happen to you if he does.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Robert.’ Payne shook his head, his eyes unfocused. ‘I had to come to tell you what happened. I didn’t dare send a letter.’

‘Tell me?’ Robert whispered. ‘What?’

‘Bishop Domnhall died eight days ago. The election afterwards, to replace him … was watched. I don’t know how. But Selar and Vaughn wanted them to choose Brome or Quinn.’ Payne paused and took another mouthful of wine. ‘They elected Aiden McCauly though. Do you know him?’

‘Not personally,’ Robert murmured. ‘I’ve heard he’s a good man – a good choice. Go on.’

‘He would have been a good Bishop too – except that Selar had him arrested and even now he languishes in the dungeons of Marsay.’

‘Serin’s blood!’ Finnlay swore.

‘Selar must be mad!’ Harold snapped. ‘Arresting an anointed Bishop? On what charge?’

‘Treason – what else? Selar has given us no details yet.’

‘And he probably won’t either.’

Robert held up his hand to silence Harold. ‘You rode all this way to tell me this?’

‘Yes,’ Payne nodded, his eyes fixed on Robert, ‘you need to know … Selar arrested McCauly the moment he heard you’d returned to Lusara.’

It was so subtle, Finnlay almost missed it. Almost missed the way Robert’s face changed. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different. All he knew was that, despite his protests to the contrary, Robert did care – a very great deal.

Almost more than the news Payne delivered, this revelation came as a shock to Finnlay. For the first time in his life, he’d actually seen past the armour Robert always wore, past the glib humour and offhand remarks. It was all there, in those green eyes – pain, pure and simple. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

‘Now you must go to court, Robert,’ Harold said into the silence. ‘You must get McCauly free.’

‘No,’ Payne insisted. ‘That’s exactly what you can’t do. Vaughn would find some way to get rid of you despite Selar’s instructions. Vaughn will stop at nothing to kill you, Robert. That’s why I came. To warn you. You have to stay away from Marsay, at the very least until this has blown over. If you don’t believe me, then read this. It’s a letter from Godfrey. He said you would believe him.’

Robert took the letter but didn’t open it. Instead, he rose to his feet and wandered over to the fire. In the silence, Finnlay could almost hear the battle waging inside his brother – he could certainly feel the tension in the room. He
stayed where he was, afraid to say anything, but it was Daniel who spoke first.

‘It’s good advice, Robert. Whatever Selar means by taking McCauly, you cannot help the situation if you go to Marsay now.’

‘That’s cowardice, Daniel, and you know it!’ Harold launched across the room to stand before Robert, his huge frame shadowing the fireplace. ‘If you leave Selar to it, he’ll go on taking the law and twisting it to his own purposes. Now he’s got his own man in the primacy. What will he do next? How much more of Lusara will he destroy before you decide to stop him? Have three years away blunted your honour, Robert? You must go – and now!’

Robert looked up, fixing Harold with that penetrating gaze. He held it for long seconds, then slowly turned to Finnlay. ‘And what do you say, brother?’

Finnlay opened his mouth, but the words that came out surprised him. ‘You cannot go.’

Robert’s eyebrows rose and he almost smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Harold, but I’ve already explained my position. This matter changes nothing.’

Harold’s eyes burned. ‘Damn you!’ he said, and stormed out of the room.

‘Daniel?’ Robert helped Payne to his feet. ‘Will you take Everard to Deverin. Make sure he gets some rest and food before he leaves.’

‘Of course.’

As the door closed behind them, Robert picked up the letter and broke the seal. Finnlay waited by the fire, uncertain. Eventually Robert looked up.

‘It’s incredible. According to Godfrey, the synod’s decision was not as simple as it appeared. Apparently they voted against Brome and Quinn because they’d heard that story about the hermit of Shan Moss. Both men have dark hair and they saw that as a sign. I can’t help thinking, though, if any man has split the Church in two, it’s me.’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Finnlay came across the room and snatched the letter from Robert’s hand. ‘Your hair may be
dark, Robert, but you didn’t force Selar to arrest McCauly. It’s not your fault.’

‘Payne thinks so, not to mention Godfrey. What is Selar playing at?’

Robert’s frown deepened and Finnlay made his decision. ‘You may not be able to go to Marsay – but I can.’

‘What?’

‘No one will know. I can be in and out in a few days. I don’t know about you, but I want to know what’s going on. Please don’t forbid me, Robert.’

Robert took a deep breath and shook his head. Calmly, he took the letter back and folded it up. He turned for the door then paused, his back to Finnlay. ‘I have to say, it was good to have you as an ally for a change but I should have known there’d be a price.’

The hospice stood on the edge of the market square, in the heart of the village of Fenlock and only half a league from Elita. From the chapel door Jenn could see the golden tower of the castle reach high above the trees surrounding the village. Spring had brought a glorious colour to the hamlet and with it, a market of festive gaiety. With the last of the snows melted away, Jenn felt she could finally breathe.

All through the winter she had made this trip with Bella. Every week after Mass, regardless of the weather, her sister had led her through the village to the hospice. They brought food, fresh baked bread, herbs and vegetables from the castle garden, ale from the brewery. Every week, Jenn had visited the sick and poor, the homeless and destitute – and every week Jenn grew closer to them. She learned their names, their families, their hopes and dreams. And sometimes, when nothing more could be done, she knelt beside her sister and prayed for their souls.