Druid's Bane

by Phillip Henderson

  “I know you will. You’re so much like your mother.”

  Danielle snatched at the lady’s hand before she could go. “You knew my mother?” She looks like my mother.

  “It doesn’t matter, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I have to go.” She pulled free and turned to leave.

  The sound of smashing glass came from Kane’s bedchamber. The Lady Winters stopped in her tracks, bewildered. Danielle drew her sword, and the woman immediately ordered her to come away. That seemed the wisest thing to do. They had what they’d come for. But Danielle had only taken a few steps when a crow squawked from Kane’s room and then a flash of green light burst from the doorway and momentarily illuminated the gloomy hallway.

  Fren!

  Shot through with fear, Danielle turned away from the doorway to Kane’s bedchamber and began to run. But she had barely made a few steps before Orson burst from a doorway further up the hall and grabbed Winters from behind. A blade flashed from his robes and was pressed against her, stopping her struggles. Danielle drew up too, heart pounding and sword at the ready. “Let her go. We have no quarrel with you or your men.”

  “I think otherwise, Milady. Now you put that sword on the floor and hand over the scroll in your pocket.”

  There was a veritable stampede of heavy footfalls on the stairs and Sir Mannering arrived, the Sergeant and soldiers following, their weapons at the ready. The knight read the situation in a moment and said. “Don’t you be doing that, Milady. You keep your distance and that sword in your hand.”

  “I’ll kill her, if you don’t put your weapons down. All of you!” Orson bellowed. You’re not leaving this house with that document.”

  “That woman is nothing to us,” the sergeant said, dismissing his threat.

  “Really?” Orson tightened his grip on the weapon, ready to run it across the woman’s throat.

  It was more than Danielle could stand and she demanded that he stop and hear her.

  “Orson, please. Let the lady go and you and your colleagues will come to no harm. You have my word as a member of Arkaelyon’s High Council.”

  To her chagrin the big Surlemian laughed. “I let you leave with that document, Danielle, and your brother will kill me. You should have bloody-well listened to him yesterday when you had the chance.”

  There was something in his tone that Danielle didn’t like. He was too relaxed. That Fren had not emerged from the room behind her left her uneasy too. Something was up, but what to do?

  Her teeth clenched, the Lady Winters said, “Kill him and go!” her eyes were pleading as the blade chafed at her throat.

  Sir Mannering gestured for a loaded crossbow.

  “Absolutely not!” Danielle said. “The lady is in my care.”

  Orson laughed at their indecision. “Then throw that scroll at my feet, release my men as you said and let me take your charge to the front door, and we’ll let this stand. What do you say?”

  “Milady, there would be no harm in that,” Mannering said. “You’ve read what’s there. You know bribes were taken and by whom.”

  “My word alone will not be taken as proof before the General Council. I have to have the scroll and the seals it contains as proof,” Danielle said.

  That’s when the Lady Winters tried to put her throat against Orson’s blade. The big Surlemian lord cursed and stopped her taking her own life, but in the fracas, Winters struggled free and ran up the hall towards Mannering. Danielle saw her chance and charged at Orson. She barely registered the shouts of warning from her men when someone loosed an arrow at her back. It tore through her coat and shirt and lanced her side before lodging in a doorframe. The explosion of pain took her breath away and dropped Danielle to her knees, mouth agape and blinking wildly. Orson was stepping past her, in full retreat. He grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her up in front of him as a shield.

  At the other end of the hall, Sir Mannering had turned white with rage but he had sufficient wisdom to thrust out a hand; preventing his crossbowmen from shooting least they hit their lady. “You harm her again and it’ll be your head, and your devil bastard kin with ya’.”

  Danielle could hear movement behind her, men panting for breath and the rustle of loose garments, and she suspect she now knew where Fren had gone and what she had been up to which was the reason Orson had seemed so relaxed.

  “We just want the scroll and safe passage, knight. Now tell your men to put their weapons down and see yourselves down to the cellar. I’ll put the lady in with you, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Sir Mannering, you will hold your ground,” Danielle said the best she could with a blade at her throat. She had managed to sink her hand into the pocket of her riding coat without being noticed. Now she pulled out the scroll and tossed it up the hall in the direction of her men. With the wax seals and ribbons it was heavy enough to make most of the distance in the air before landing on the floor and rolling to the toe of Sergeant Belich’s boot. “Take it to my father! And hold these curs here until reinforcements arrive.”

  “Don’t you be doing that, knight,” Orson said, panic lacing his voice. “I’m a dead man if I lose that document, and I won’t mind taking your lady to the prophet’s gate with me.”

  “Sir Mannering, it’ll be treason if you do not obey me,” Danielle shouted over the top of her captor.

  Orson shut her up by freeing a hand and driving a fist into her wounded side. Danielle bit back a scream and almost fainted; the pain was so sudden and absolute, and when it eased she felt as weak as a babe.

  Mannering was ordering her men to surrender their weapons and when she tried to protest again, he would not listen. The mercenaries, under Orson’s instructions, were moving up the hall to usher the knight and guardsmen down the stairs at sword point.

  “Best you be quiet,” Orson said as he forced her forward and they joined the end of the column.

  This was not the way it was supposed to happen! Danielle thought. She had seen something quite different in her dream.

  “Orson, please. I’ll buy the scroll from you. Ask what price you will, gems, gold, lands, I’ll pay it.”

  “You’re mad. Cross your brother and Archbishop for coin? I’ll be crow food before I can spend a sovereign.”

  “Then what will it take to get that scroll back?”

  “You’re wasting your breath, Milady, this is done. Slavery isn’t so bad, and no worse than serfdom. You’ll learn to live with it.”

  “It’s an affront to all that is holy and sacred. And if you do this, I will not rest until it is turned back on all of you a thousand fold.”

  Orson answered her with a wry grin. “You’re probably not well placed to be making such threats, Milady.”

  They were at the bottom of the stairs now, and it was clear he would not be moved from his position so Danielle ceased trying. Slavery would be legal across the four dukedoms of Arkaelyon by the midday bells; she resigned herself to that. The only hope was to try and find a way of over turning it. It was a far more difficult thing to do, particularly with the majority Kane had no doubt garnered, but if there were a way she’d find it. Her hope turned bitter when she was pushed into the kitchen and saw two of her men dead on the floor, their throats slit.

  “You murdering bastard.” She turned on her captor, only to be grabbed by two of Orson’s colleagues and man-handed, thrashing and cursing, through a doorway and into a storage room. Two trap doors in the floor had been thrown back, and the soldiers of her retainer along with the Lady Winters were being forced down into the dark cellar below. Danielle was the last to enter and they half threw her down the stairs. She lost her footing and fell into the darkness. Safe hands caught her and tried to hold her back, but despite her injuries she wriggled free and rushed back up the stairs. Before she made the top the two doors were swung closed and locked, cutting off the light except for the occasional shaft between the floorboards. Even that vanished as Orson gave the order to dump stores and furniture over the doors to ensu
re it remained secure.

  “You’d better hope our paths never cross, Orson,” Danielle yelled in the darkness. The tight space stunk of wine and fear and she could hear several of the men praying.

  “You needn’t fear that, Milady. Like I said, you should have listened to your brother out on the highway yesterday.” There was a short pause then he said to his men, “Burn the place.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Mr Sydney, Mr Sydney. Wake up. Mr Sydney, wake up…”

  The words came to James as if in a dream, quiet and distant. Then something was pushed under his nose. The smell erupted in his brain and he sat up with a start.

  “The lady, sir, she’s not here,” a maid said. The young woman’s eyes were wide with apprehension and she looked more than a little flustered.

  James cupped his aching head, memory slowly coming back to him. He tried to rise only to be forced back down as Martha arrived with a cup in her hand.

  “Just take a moment to get your bearings, James.” She made him drink something that tasted as foul as whatever it was she’d put under his nose, but the liquid did burn through the fatigue in his brain like sunlight through mist. It also sent a wave of nausea rippling through his stomach, and he only just made it into the privy, before vomiting. While he knelt there, trying to think what to do, Martha appeared with a bowl of water and a cloth.

  “What’s the time?” he asked, trying to think where Danielle might be.

  “The second morning bell has tolled, so a short time after eight I would say. What happened to you? You were so deep in sleep the poor maid thought you dead? And where is Danielle? She was forbidden from attending the council meeting this morning, so I presumed she’d be with you.”

  James ignored the question.

  If it were shortly after the second bell then the council meeting would have just begun. Dee would have likely returned to the palace and be there. He got up and grabbed his long coat, and after checking the top of her bureau for the bill and the letter she had written to Joseph and finding them gone, he went to the door. He noticed she had taken his sword belt as well.

  “Is everything alright?” Martha asked.

  Right now he couldn’t say whether it was or no.

  “It’s a long story. I’m afraid I have to go.”

  The guards had been changed in the vestibule outside Danielle’s chamber, and would likely know nothing of the happenings during the night, so James paced past them with no more than a polite good morning and then broke into a run. His rumpled attire draw more than a few curious stares as he ran though the passages of the palace, making his way towards the royal court. Reaching the top of the wide stairs to the court vestibule he found it quiet and deserted except for the guards stationed about the place.

  “The Lady de Brie, has she passed this way this morning?” he demanded as he approached the two guards standing either side of the arched entranceway to the chamber of the General Council. The muffled sound of fierce debate could be heard through the closed doors.

  “No, sir, she hasn’t.” The fellow glanced at his colleague. “I believe the king asked her not to attend? At least that’s what’s been whispered about the place.”

  James uttered a quiet curse and pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what to do next. Perhaps she had been delayed, that was the most likely cause for her late return. “Any of you men know where Lord Kane’s chambers are in the south-eastern quarter of the city?” He lifted his voice and turned around so every guard in the vestibule could hear him.

  One of the guards piped up. “Aye, sir, one lane on from Burrows, I believe.”

  James had no idea where that was. “You’re with me, then.” He turned on the nearest guard, and thrust out his hand. “Your sword belt, please. And while you’re at it, has there been any word on whether Lord Kane is presenting a bill to the council this morning? And any other gossip about the Lady de Brie, perhaps that she had a letter delivered to the Lord Protector early today?”

  “Aye sir, a package was delivered earlier, just before dawn. And one of the men stationed at the Lord Protector’s door reckons he heard Lord Kane and slavery used in the same sentence, but we suspect his old ears misheard.”

  Not about to enlighten them of their error, James offered his thanks, and then moved off, buckling up his borrowed sword belt and with one of the court guards walking quickly at his side.

  “How long will it take to get to Lord Kane’s residence?”

  “Perhaps as long as half the hour, once we’re mounted, sir.”

  “I pray we have half the hour,” James said, as much to himself as the soldier. Reaching the bottom of the first stairway, he broke into a run again. The guard didn’t ask why, just fell in behind him.

  While passing the entrance to the hallway that led back to Danielle’s chambers, someone called to James.

  He recognised the voice as that of Bastion Fairfax, Danielle’s undersecretary. Bastion emerged around the corner and caught up. He looked puzzled to see James alone, more than puzzled.

  “What has she done now? Martha said she wasn’t with you when she arrived this morning and you were quite a mess.”

  “Long story, but I could do with your help.”

  Bastion fell in at his side without hesitation. “What has happened? Where is she?”

  James gave the undersecretary a quick run down. If anyone could be trusted it was Bastion.

  “Dear mercies, she actually poisoned you. Her father will brain her when he hears about this.”

  “Not sure she’s the one who deserves the braining,” James said, as they stepped out into the sunlight and ran down the stairs to the palace-readying yard. There was barely room to move, with carriages as far as the eye could see. Coachmen and servants loitered about waiting for the monthly meeting of the General Council to conclude and their masters to return. James changed his mind about having a horse saddled—it would take time he feared they did not have—and calling Bastion and the guardsman after him, he weaved in and out between the coaches until they reached the head of the queue.

  “You, sir, we’re taking your vehicle,” James said to three men attired in green and white livery who were lounging on the grass enjoying a pipe and sharing a loaf of bread and a jar of liquor. A white heron crowned with oak leaves marked them as servants of the Darmont household.

  “Like Vellum, you are.” The biggest of the three men climbed to his feet but he quickly backed off when James drew his sword.

  “The King’s business,” James said. “I’m the Lady de Brie’s protector and we will be borrowing this carriage. Am I clear?”

  The grooms offered grudging nods and sat back down. Everyone knew a protector’s warrant issued by the king was not to be trifled with.

  Bastion and the guardsman had already climbed aboard and when the former put the whip to the horses’ flanks and the coach rolled forward, James sheathed his sword and leaped up onto the runner board for the trip down to the palace gates. The portcullis was raised at first light, but James had Bastion draw the carriage to a stop all the same. He hollered at the guardhouse at the bottom of the gate tower and stepped down onto the white gravel. A young fellow with dark hair and a serious bearing appeared. The armour marked him as a knight though James could not put a name to the face and the breastplate was emblazoned with the black Arkaelyon eagle rather than the crest of one of the realm’s noble houses.

  “You called, sir?”

  “The Lady de Brie, has she passed this way?”

  “Aye, before dawn. Sir Mannering and a good number of the guard went with her. More than twenty riders in all.”

  “Did she say where they were going?” He wanted confirmation.

  “Lord Kane’s residence, as I understand it.”

  “Have you seen the prince this morning?”

  “He arrived for the council meeting some hours ago.”

  “Thank you.” The dread that had taken up residence in James’ chest eased a little at hearing thi
s and he gave Bastion a nod and leaped back onto the runner board. At least Danielle’s brother was out of the way and she had been true to her word and taken ample protection.

  The busy city streets hampered their progress, but Bastion’s sure hand kept them moving at a good clip. James yelled at those ahead to clear the way and on occasion he was forced to step down and draw his sword to provoke haste in a surly wagon driver or carriage groom. By the time they finally passed Burrow Lane, James was almost hoarse from shouting. A church bell was clanging incessantly over the plush brick neighbourhood, and white smoke hung thick in the still morning air. The congestion had worsened to the point they would be quicker on foot. James said as much and jumped down with the guardsmen to begin to push their way up the street. The crowd was moving in the same direction. James caught snippets of conversations about a house on fire. He prayed this wasn’t Danielle’s doing. As they reached the corner of the next street the smoke was so thick his eyes were stinging and visibility was cut to next to nothing.

  “This is the street, sir,” the soldier said at James’ side. “Lord Kane’s residence is toward the middle.

  Men of the city guard had formed a cordon to stop the crowd from entering the tree-lined lane. James pushed his way to the closest soldier, said who he was, and the cordon opened for him. Bastion called to them over the noise of the crowd and they waited long enough for the undersecretary to catch up, before continuing through the smoke at a fast walk.

  “Lord Kane’s house, what’s the bet. Her father’s going to more than brain her,” Bastion said, before putting the handkerchief retrieved from his coat pocket to his mouth, as they pushed forward. James didn’t care; he just needed to know Danielle was safe. Nothing else mattered beyond that right now.

  Dark shapes appeared in the white smoke. A few yards closer and they began to materialise into a line of men who had formed a bucket brigade. Most of the men wore the mail and tunics of the city guard. Wooden pails of water were being handed up the line while empty pales returned.