The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (6 page)

Fallon shook his head and she reached out, grasping his shoulder. “Stop blaming yourself,” she said.

He looked at her and saw nothing but sympathy in her eyes. For a moment it almost felt like Bridgit was there.

“You have to let it go. You thought you had won and then Aidan fooled you. But what he did was madness – how could you expect it? I can see why you want him dead but true revenge is living happily ever after, having hacked off his lunatic head.”

Fallon smiled, a little.

“Fallon, I want to help you,” she said. “You know I can give you the nobles. You despise them, and rightly so, but there is great power there. Even the King is afraid of upsetting them too much, for if they ever banded together, they could remove him and replace him with another. And that other could be me. I was married to his cousin, after all, and am close to the throne by marriage. And if I took the throne as a regent, then my first act would be to restore your families.”

Fallon stared at her, the others also reacting as well. “You want to take the crown?” he croaked.

“Fallon,” she said firmly. “What else can we do? If Aidan was not bad enough, we face a future where the Zorva-worshippers have power. And, if by some miracle Swane does not take the throne, it will be a son Aidan has fathered on Meinster’s girl Brona. It’s revolting – the girl is younger than Prince Cavan was. And Meinster is nearly as bad as Aidan. He flogs his people and delights in punishing those who defy him. Aroaril knows what children they will produce together.”

Fallon looked down at the table. Rosaleen said Dina spoke the truth. And she could not be as bad as Aidan. “How do we make that happen?” he asked.

“Get me the evidence that Cavan wanted. You need something tying the King to the Fearpriests, the snatchers, the witches and the selkies and to the Kottermanis. I present it to the nobles and they will act. Already they are afraid and angry about this marriage. They do not need much to tip them over the edge.”

“Really? They looked delighted about it when the King spoke,” Devlin interrupted.

Dina shook her head. “Have you learned nothing in your time here? To show your true feelings at a time like that would be a fatal mistake. But they are scared and furious. Nobody likes Meinster and he has just made himself the second most powerful man in the land. To those of us who have crossed him, defied him and thwarted his ambitions, it is a terrifying time. He never forgets and he never forgives. Oh, I can assure you that there are many nobles in Berry right now who are meeting and whispering nervously together.”

Fallon glanced at Rosaleen, who gave the smallest nod of her head, saying she could detect no lies there.

“We have to be careful. We are being watched by Regan,” he warned.

“And you are right to worry. He has a network of informants through the city, reporting back to him,” she admitted. “But he cannot keep you in here all the time. You will get a chance. If you find anything, send word to me and I will find a way to meet. Apart, we can do nothing to stop Aidan. Together, we stand a chance.”

Fallon glanced at Rosaleen and she nodded. “The truth,” she said.

Fallon signaled and Devlin escorted Dina and Gannon out.

“Do you think—” Brendan began but Fallon waved him down. “Wait for Devlin,” was all he said.

His mind was racing. He could see the possibilities in her words and part of him wanted to leap at the chance. But what of his dream? Was just killing the King enough or would he still be haunted if he did not sacrifice himself? Surely he needed to be punished as well …

“Well, that sounded better than you throwing your life away and maybe ours with it,” Devlin said as he walked back into the room.

Fallon looked around the table. “Is that what you all think?”

“It galls me to say it but maybe this is the best way,” Padraig said. “The real question though, is can you accept that or are you still set on killing yourself?”

Fallon rubbed his eyes. What had seemed so certain that morning was now all mixed up. Could he have a life after killing Cavan?

“I need to sleep on it,” he said, although it was only shortly after noon.

*

Kerrin wanted to go down to the crossbow range again. Anything was better than staying in these rooms. It had been bad enough when Dad talked to everyone and said the Prince was dead, but then it had got really scary when he started crying. Dad had never cried before, and he didn’t know what to do. Then he had been strange again that morning, while Padraig had wanted to sit with him and hug him. That was even scarier. Grandpa had begun to talk about the two of them living together and maybe going to look for Mam. He had wanted to ask about Dad but had been afraid of the answer. Then Dad and the others had come back, Dad looking angry and his friends looking happy, which was even more confusing.

When Dad walked into their room and lay down on his bed, saying nothing, he watched for a little while and then could take no more.

“Dad, what is going on?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing.”

That was a lie, so he joined him on his bed. “Are you going away? Are you going to leave me?” he demanded, still afraid but having to know.

His dad stiffened, then sighed. “Maybe.”

“Why? Was it something I did? I know I wasn’t any good with the sword,” Kerrin said miserably.

Dad turned over then. “It was nothing you did. It was something I did. I might have to go but grandpa Padraig will watch over you—”

“I don’t want him! I want you!” Kerrin howled.

His dad sat up, startled, but Kerrin did not care any more. The memory of lying in that pit, knowing Mam was going, was never far away. He could not lose Dad as well. “Don’t leave me!”

Dad reached out a hand and patted him but it did nothing. “I don’t want to but I have to. I did a very bad thing—”

“Leaving me is a bad thing! How could you? You promised we would find mam together and you lied to me!”

Next moment he was hitting Dad, trying to punch out his anger, fear and frustration. He must have caught him by surprise, because it was some moments before he enfolded him in a hug, so he could not hit.

“I am sorry,” Dad said. “You wouldn’t understand but I did an evil thing, so I must be punished.”

“Leaving me is worse,” Kerrin said defiantly. “You always said you can make up for mistakes.”

“I did. But this is the way I have to make up for what I did.”

“And how will you make it up to me? You said you would never leave me – that we would rescue Mam. Breaking that promise is worse than anything you have done.”

*

Fallon groaned, his son’s words striking deep inside. In his mind’s eye he saw a bloodied Cavan, looking sadly at him but, standing on the opposite side, a bloodied Bridgit holding a limp Kerrin. And her eyes were even more accusing.

“It’s not so simple as making up for what I did by saying sorry,” he said.

Kerrin got one arm free and began hitting him again. “Yes it is! You just don’t want me around.”

“Now that is not true,” Fallon said angrily.

“Prove it. You swore an oath to me and you said a man is only as good as his word. Let’s get Mam back together.”

Fallon felt something tear inside him. The anger and self-loathing dissolved into fear and doubt.

He crushed his son to his chest. “Help me,” he begged. “I feel like I am lost.”

A sob convulsed the boy, who clung on as ferociously as Fallon held him. “Then let’s find our way home together,” Kerrin said, his voice a little muffled.

Fallon relaxed his grip and looked down at his tear-stained son. “I am not a good father,” he said. “I am not even a good man any more. You deserve someone better.”

“But I only want you.”

Fallon felt his own tears trickling down then.

“Without you, we shall never get Mam back,” Kerrin continued.

Fallon still wanted to atone for killing Cavan. But maybe he could have both. He closed his eyes. No visions came. This must be what Rosaleen was always talking about. You had to make your own choices.

“All right. Let’s get Mam back,” he said.

But he did not feel any better for saying it.

Then Devlin burst through the door. “Regan is here,” the farmer said urgently.

Fallon felt his heart beat faster but did not want to alarm Kerrin. Was this the final message? Had they realized he wanted to kill the King? “I’ll be right there,” he said, forcing himself to sound casual.

Kerrin was reluctant to let go and he had to promise to come back before he could hurry out to where the chamberlain was waiting impatiently. Regan reached into his belt pouch and Fallon tensed but the man only produced a scroll from his belt pouch.

“The King wants to speak to you. In a turn of the hourglass. Here are the details. Do not be late,” Regan said simply.

“Wait! What about?” Fallon asked as the chamberlain turned away.

“I do not know. Make sure you are on time.”

Fallon watched the man stride away and broke the seal on the scroll to see it just repeated the words Regan had spoken.

“What was that about?” Devlin asked, as his friends joined him.

“The King wants to see me. To talk about something.” Fallon showed them his scroll.

“Do you think this is it?” Brendan asked.

“No,” Fallon said, although he was thinking the same thing. “If they wanted us dead, they would just storm in here.”

“Well, you will know more in a turn of the hourglass,” Gallagher predicted.

Fallon shuddered at the thought of seeing Aidan again, of sitting opposite him; he was flooded with the awful temptation to kill the bastard. Despite his promise to his son he did not honestly know if he could stop himself attacking the King.

“Don’t do anything stupid. It will only be Aidan there. Swane is somewhere else. Kill Aidan and Swane will hunt us all down,” Gallagher warned.

Fallon’s mind cleared. It was both or neither. “Aye. I will just talk. But I’ll find a way to go back into Aidan’s rooms when he is in the throne room, surrounded by people.”

“Why do you want to get yourself killed?” Brendan asked.

“If I am not going to kill him straight away then I’ll get something for the Duchess to use. Let’s see if the nobles can be trusted. If not, I always have a knife.”

*

Kerrin sat on the bed with Caley, looking at the dog seriously.

“I think it is going to come down to you and me, Caley,” he told her.

The dog tilted her head and chuffed a little in her throat.

“I couldn’t save Mam and now Dad keeps going off. If we are to get her back, I think we will have to do it.”

He didn’t like the idea and he could tell Caley wasn’t happy about it either. But it was taking too long to get his mother, and now Dad had said he might have to leave it to Grandpa Padraig. Well, that was not a plan. He had to be ready.

“We’ll do the push-ups first and then try throwing knives,” he told Caley. “When the time comes, we might have to save Dad before we can save Mam.”

Fallon sat brooding outside the King’s rooms, having handed his weapons to the guards at the door. A pair of the King’s guards had escorted him there and now all he held was the scroll. But how could he speak to Aidan and pretend nothing had happened? A vision of Bridgit came to him, of how he had disguised his anger when they had fought, because the more she thought he was angry, the longer it took to make up.

“The King is ready for you,” a guards officer told him.

He stood, composing his face as he did so, then recognized the man. “Quinn. You are a busy fellow.”

“That’s right,” Quinn said, his face betraying a sudden fear Fallon was going to say something about the Duchess.

Fallon said nothing more, just opened the door and stepped into the King’s rooms. He forced the memories away of the last time they had been in there, thinking they had won and all that remained was for Swane to be executed for his crimes.

He did not know what to expect, because no one ever did with King Aidan. But, as he shut the door behind him, it was to see the King sitting back in a comfortable armchair, a second, somewhat less comfortable chair drawn up opposite. A pair of burly guards stood behind the empty chair, their purpose obvious.

“Take a seat, Fallon; let us talk,” Aidan invited.

He felt a huge surge of fury just looking at the King but managed to force a smile onto his face and keep his voice even as he bowed. “Thank you, sire,” he said, sitting down and making his fists unclench, sensing the two guards relax as he did so.

“Fallon, you led an inspired defense when you were trapped at the Guildhouse. Surrounded, outnumbered, you used your head and your men to win,” Aidan said, talking as if he were speaking about one of his favored hurling games, rather than a grim battle that had seen the cobbles awash with blood and guts.

Fallon merely nodded, not trusting himself to talk about that day.

“So I want to know, if the Kottermanis came here and attacked us, how would you defeat them?”

Fallon had to fight particularly hard to keep the surprise from his face. “Do you think the Kottermanis will attack us, sire?” he asked.

“Who knows?” Aidan waved a hand. “But I want to know what you would do if they did.”

Fallon took a deep breath. There was a dangerous game going on. King Aidan might be unpredictable and evil but there was always some purpose behind his actions.

“We cannot match their ships, nor should we fight them in open country, for they have far more men than us,” he said carefully. “They know they have far more soldiers than we could ever hope to put in the field and no doubt they are battle-hardened.”

“Yes. The Empire is in a constant state of revolt. Every man they would send here would be a veteran. We would have a mixture of guards and the fyrd. One man of theirs would be worth two of ours, and they would have four or five times our number,” said Aidan.

“We have to make them attack us here,” Fallon said, his voice strengthening as he thought about it.

“Here? But if they take Berry then they have the whole country,” Aidan said, his voice questioning, not accusing.

“It is the only city big enough for our purpose. We draw them into the streets and the alleys. That’s where numbers count for nothing. The city is a maze but we know it all. We can use the roofs, we can use the back alleys and we can cut them to pieces, hurt them so badly that they never come again.”

“Would it not be better to trust in our walls and try to hold them out?”

“They would destroy the countryside around us while they wait. And if they are always fighting then they would have ways to batter their way through stone walls. No, better to use their arrogance against them. They will march in here like conquerors, never expecting us to attack. Then we crush them.”

“Attack them after inviting them in?” Aidan asked.

“You do not get prizes for fighting fair. We do anything we can to win.”

Aidan clapped his hands together and laughed. “Excellent! The best answer I have been given by far. Most of the others all said we should use cavalry to destroy them on a flat field somewhere, for they could not bring horses across the sea. Yet they can bring enough bows to destroy any cavalry charge. Tell me, Fallon, would you think about being my war captain, if it came to it?”

Fallon forced down both his astonishment and his revulsion at the thought of serving this man. “You honor me, sire. But is there not someone better suited for the role?”

Aidan waved his hand in disgust. “Kelty? He is a perfect captain of guards but he is not a general. Who else is there? One of my nobles? Can you see the Earl of Lagway leading the men into battle? The Kottermanis would die laughing.”

“I would be proud to serve you, sire,” Fallon lied. He found it was getting easier to do, the more practice he had at it.

Aidan looked away then and seemed to be musing to himself. “It is worth looking at. A man who could make all the difference.”

“Sire?” Fallon asked gently.

“That is all, Fallon. Thank you.” Aidan was no longer looking at him.

Fallon stood and bowed, then used the opportunity to have a quick look around the King’s room. There were many shelves there filled with scrolls. He would need plenty of time to search them all.

The guards outside, even the lieutenant Quinn, did not pay him any attention on his way out, instead watching the pair of fat Guildsmen who were going to see the King next. Fallon picked up his shillelagh and left, thinking about the best time to come back and have a proper look around.

*

His return was met with heartfelt relief from all the villagers. They had barricaded themselves into individual rooms, ready to sell their lives dearly, only to emerge when Fallon returned. But none of them could understand why the King had wanted to talk to him.

“And that’s all he wanted? To talk about the Kottermanis and offer you a job as his war captain?” Devlin asked in disbelief.

“Aye. I could barely believe it either. He only seems to be concerned with the Kottermanis at the moment. He doesn’t seem to care about the witches and selkies any more. I know he always has something in mind but I don’t know what it is. Maybe I can find out if I get into his rooms when he is passing judgment on some poor unfortunates.”

“That’s if he doesn’t want us to watch over Swane while that is going on,” Gallagher reminded him.

Everyone had relaxed and started to think about the evening meal, and some had even begun to complain about being stuck in these rooms all day, when Regan returned.

“Hide the weapons,” Fallon ordered, as men jumped up in fear, “but be ready to use them.”

But Regan merely had another scroll to deliver. “The King wants you to hand this to Duchess Dina at her townhouse,” he announced.

“Are all his messengers sick or something?” Fallon asked suspiciously.

“The King asked for you particularly. You may take three companions and you need to leave now.” He handed the scroll over. “Fail and the King will look on it as a breaking of your promise.”

With that, the chamberlain turned and strode away.

“Could they have made this any more obvious as a trap?” Gallagher asked.

“But why go to all this effort?” Fallon growled. “Why not come in here with swords drawn?”

“Well, if it is a trap, we shall give them a surprise,” Brendan said with relish.

“I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance.” Fallon cursed and thumped the wall.

“There’s many reasons to go back in time but no way to do it, so give it up, man,” Gallagher said sourly.

“You can’t go,” Padraig said firmly.

Fallon patted Gallagher on the shoulder in apology. “Gall is right. We have no choice,” he told the old wizard. “You heard Regan. We have to take the chance there is something else happening. Otherwise we are all dead. Look, use a bird to watch us and if something happens, you’ve got warning.”

Padraig sighed.

Fallon embraced his father-in-law. “Just get Kerrin out. That’s all I ask,” he whispered. “I promised him I would not leave him and I will do all I can to return. But we are the King’s pawns now and we must play his game.”

Padraig winked. “That I can do. But make sure you get back. Bridgit would kill me if anything happened to you.”

Fallon turned to his friends. “I am sorry, lads. You don’t have to come. I can ask for volunteers—”

“We are your constables,” Devlin said. “You’re not going anywhere without us.”

“Besides, a trap doesn’t always work,” Brendan said flatly. “All we have to do is break it.”

*

But nothing happened as they walked through the streets. All four of them were carrying every weapon they could think of and the crowds were parting before them but they walked to the Duchess’s house without anything happening.

“I wish they would hurry up and spring the trap on us. I am getting hungry and hate fighting on an empty stomach,” Brendan grumbled.

“You might get your wish,” Gallagher said. “Don’t look now but we’re being followed.”

Instantly Brendan turned around.

“Could you make it any more obvious? If Devlin had turned, they might have missed him in the crowd but no, the biggest of us has to do it,” Gallagher sighed.

“Six of them, it looks like. All wearing brown cloaks,” Brendan reported. “Shall we take them now?”

“It’s the ones I can’t see that I worry about,” Fallon said. “The Duchess’s house is just there. Let’s get inside and see if we can spot how many there really are.”

The mysterious men made no move to attack them as they hammered on the door, which was opened. They were ushered inside to where the Duchess was less than pleased to see them.

“The King sent you here?” she gasped. “For Aroaril’s sake, this has to be a trap!”

“We’re being followed,” Fallon agreed.

But, although they peered carefully out of the windows, all they could see was the same six figures.

“There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to go out there and attack them,” Fallon said.

“Can we at least eat first?” Brendan asked.

But the Duchess had other ideas. “There is another choice,” she said. “There is a back door. Those men will think you will be here for turns of the hourglass. Meanwhile you can be away and back at the castle while they still watch the front of my house.”

Fallon was not sure about this but she was insistent … and attacking men in the street seemed like a recipe for disaster.

“If you go now, they will never expect it,” she said. “I shall make sure I am seen at the windows, pretending to talk to you.”

She embraced Fallon quickly, which made him stiffen in shock, then she drew back. “Live,” she said. “Do it for your wife and son.”

The back door was opened and the alleyway behind scanned quickly. There was no sign of any watchers, so the four of them hurried onwards.

“Well, I feel much happier about this trap now,” Gallagher said as they walked down a crooked alley, back towards the main road. “At least the Duchess seems on our side.”

Fallon grunted. The houses were bigger and much nicer here than in the rats’ nest of houses in the poorer quarters. Still, the smell was just as bad.

“At least there is no sign of those cloaked men,” Fallon said.

“That’s if we can find our way out of here,” Devlin said as the alley took yet another turn. “Who designed this stupid city?”

“Fallon was right about it though. This is the place to fight the Kottermanis. We can use the roofs and places like this to destroy them,” Gallagher said. “Imagine it, looking up, barely able to see the sun and not knowing if there was going to be a hail of spears or crossbow bolts from above at any moment.”

Fallon looked up, as Gallagher suggested, then swore loudly.

“Get your backs to the walls. There’s more up there!”

The four of them flattened themselves against the rough alley wall, eyes scanning above. But the roofline was empty.

“What did you see?” Devlin asked.

“Three hooded men,” Fallon replied shortly. “Just for a moment, then they ducked away.”

“The one from out the front? How could they have got here?”

“They didn’t. These look completely different,” Fallon said.

“Do you think this is the real trap?” Brendan wondered. “Did the Duchess push us into it?”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Fallon said.

He unstrapped his crossbow from his back and swiftly loaded it. Devlin and Gallagher did the same. Brendan just hefted his huge hammer but that was more than enough of a weapon in his hands.

They hurried down the alley, which led into a maze of others. No longer worrying about finding the way back to the main road, Fallon just led them left and right, looking to put some distance between them and whoever was above. He was horribly aware they were completely exposed but could not think who was after them. King Aidan had them at his mercy in the castle – if he wanted them dead then he would just send in his guards. The Duchess? But why not attack while they were inside her house? Obviously Swane wanted them dead but he was in a cell somewhere. And, anyway, they had killed his men. Or had they?

“Are they still up there?” Devlin asked as they stopped by a corner, all puffing hard.

“Can’t see.” Fallon craned his neck to check the rooftops. “But there’s so many places to hide up there.”

“Do we wait or do we go?” Brendan asked.

“I think these three might be the snatchers, the ones Cavan said he chased across the rooftops. The ones Eamon was protecting, the ones we weren’t able to find,” Fallon said.

Devlin stopped looking up and swung around. “The ones Cavan said had skin like wood that swords just bounced off?”

“But we don’t look like children! Well, maybe Devlin if you put him next to Brendan,” Gallagher said.

Fallon instinctively paused for Devlin to make some joke in return but nothing came.

“Let’s keep moving,” Devlin said instead.

They jogged down a series of alleys.

“Who builds these? There’s not a straight line among them!” Gallagher protested.

Fallon caught a glimpse of the main road down a side alley. “There!” he cried and skidded to a halt.