Green Jasper

by K. M. Grant

  “Take it,” said Will.

  Elric slipped it into his pouch. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” He hesitated only for a second. “My da will kill me if he finds out.”

  Will caught his arm. “I know,” he said, “but Gethin and I must stay here in case de Scabious brings Ellie down. I’m sorry.”

  Elric shook off Will’s hand and was gone.

  De Scabious had seen Gavin and his knights arrive outside the tower at sunset but, still recovering from the turmoil of his welcome, had chosen to ignore them. Hangem was well defended and could hold out for a long siege. Nevertheless, he had gone to bed feeling uncomfortable. All this uncertainty was a strain. Sitting in the great hall the following morning, moodily pulling bits off a haunch of venison for his breakfast, he picked his teeth and suddenly decided to wait not a day longer. It was quite unnecessary, really, for John to witness his wedding, and after the event, what could anybody do? No, he would be married within the hour, using whatever means required to make Ellie say the words of consent, and then nobody, ever, would be able to deprive him of his new prestige. He was thankful he had had Ellie locked up in a room with no windows. She would have no idea that Gavin was outside the tower’s walls.

  He belched and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before practicing his husbandly smile in the reflection of his tankard. The distortion was such that he even gave himself a fright. He slammed the tankard down as his sergeant hurried in to announce that Gavin had sent a message demanding Ellie’s release.

  The constable poured another drink. “Come to reclaim the girl, has he? Well, he has taken his time, I must say.”

  The sergeant sniggered.

  De Scabious thought for a few minutes. “Actually, we should invite the count in.” He showed his filthy teeth. “That’s it. We’ll invite him in. After all, he can hardly refuse an invitation to see his ladylove without branding himself a coward, can he? And I’ll have a little surprise for him. He can witness our wedding.”

  “Shall I send for a priest?”

  “Don’t bother,” said the constable, and his cheeks went slightly pink. “John’s permission is all I need, and I have that. He may turn up in time himself. But it doesn’t matter. Eleanor will give her consent. I guarantee it.” The constable winked. “Women, Sergeant,” he said, “just need managing properly.”

  “Shall I go and give Eleanor a little preliminary ‘management?’” asked the sergeant, flexing an arm muscle.

  “Don’t overstep the mark.” De Scabious’s voice cranked up an octave. The sergeant turned off his smile, and the constable lowered his voice again. “Go and prepare the tapestry room,” he ordered. “Make sure the fire is blazing and that sort of thing. It’s just right for an intimate wedding. Then send two guards up to Eleanor’s chamber and bring her down. No—on second thought, send four guards. And tell them that they are entirely responsible for her. If she harms herself, I’ll have every soldier here hanged and left for the ravens.”

  The sergeant hurried off. Goodness, but the constable could be touchy.

  De Scabious made his way out of the great hall and into the courtyard. The sound of a horse neighing and stamping irritated him. A young stableboy who was passing saw the constable heading for the stalls. “It’s that chestnut mare we caught instead of that stallion. She’s really restless today. Gethin used to take her out, but he’ll not be doing that anymore,” the boy said, thinking to ingratiate himself. Instead, he found himself the object of uncomfortable scrutiny.

  De Scabious rocked on his toes. “Now then,” he said, “do you want to be helpful to me?”

  The boy looked slyly at de Scabious, and nodded.

  “Good,” said de Scabious. “Go and get the horse and tie her in the corner near the cellar. Then bring out bundles of hay and pile them up against the cellar door—lots of them—until the door is covered, do you hear me?” He paused. “It may be,” he continued, clasping and unclasping his hands, “that later today I will give the order to set the hay on fire, so keep a lit torch next to it. Do you understand?”

  The boy’s face lost its slyness. “But that means—”

  “But that means what?” asked the constable blandly. “Come on. What?”

  “Nothing,” said the boy, looking at the ground. “I’ll get a pitchfork.”

  The constable watched until the hay pile began to take shape. He would make sure Ellie saw it, too. Then he sauntered over to the gates. They were quite thick enough. A few knights from Hartslove could never hope to breach them, even with a full-frontal attack. Nevertheless, he could not control a small nervous throbbing in his eyelid. “That assassin will be well on his way by now,” he repeated to himself again and again. “Gavin de Granville may have turned up here, but he has already lost.” Not wanting to expose his own head, he asked an archer to peer over the wall and recount what he could see.

  “The enemy are heavily armed,” the archer called down, “but they’ve only two very basic siege engines and not much cover. But I can’t see how many of them there are, because some are out of sight below the hill. Will King John be coming to help us?”

  “Very likely, but we may not need him,” said the constable, deliberately offhand. “Now, I want you to go out and offer the one-armed Gavin de Granville an invitation to come inside. Don’t be alarmed. He won’t hurt you. We have too many hostages for that. I want you to tell him that I will allow him to come in and see Eleanor. You can also tell him that if he doesn’t accept my invitation, I will make sure Eleanor knows it.”

  The man came down from his perch and wrapped a piece of white cloth round a pole to wave as a sign of parley. “Very good,” said de Scabious, and pushed him out. Gavin was discussing where best to place the siege engines when they were warned of the man’s approach.

  “Which one of you is the count?” The archer was edgily cocky. “It must be you.” He let his eyes rest provocatively on Gavin’s empty sleeve. “Constable de Scabious sends you an invitation to come in and see Miss Eleanor de Barre.”

  Gavin heard the man out without changing his expression, but when he turned away, his eyes were shining. “Of course I will go in,” he said to Kamil. “When all the constable’s supporters see Richard’s seal and hear that John is no more king than I am, they will surely melt away or come to join us. That’s the way of these people. Cowards attract cowards.”

  “It’s dangerous, though, sir,” said one of his knights, doubtfully. “I mean, the constable may be a coward, but once he has got you in the tower, who knows what tricks he might play?”

  “But I have the seal,” Gavin insisted.

  “Well, yes,” said another, who thought that Gavin set rather too much store by a piece of wax. “But de Scabious will declare it a forgery. You may have the seal, but you can’t absolutely prove it is genuine.”

  “No, but it will sow doubt, and maybe that is all that’s needed,” said Gavin, unwilling to have any obstacles put in his way. “After all, we just want to leave with Ellie, Will, Old Nurse, and Sacramenta. Once we get them away, we can finish off the constable in our own time. But I think the seal should at least secure the release of the prisoners. Somebody might even be able to give us news of Hal. Alan heard that John now has him.”

  Kamil stepped forward. “If you go in, I’m coming in with you,” he said.

  “No,” said Gavin. “I think I should go on my own.”

  “That would be foolish.”

  “Somebody should go with you,” said the first knight. “After all …” He did not dare mention Gavin’s arm.

  Kamil had no such compunction. “You can only fight on one side,” he said. “I’m coming.”

  Gavin did not argue further, but went at once to fetch Dargent. In the horse lines he found a commotion going on.

  Elric, red in the face, was trying to dodge through mock defenses that the knights had set up. Each time he was caught, he was made giddy, then let loose to try again. It was an amusing game. Gavin frowned, but as he went forward to remonstrat
e, something flew out of the boy’s tunic, momentarily sparkled green in the sun, then disappeared into the grass. Gavin jumped. Running forward, he searched the ground until he found what he was looking for. There was no need of an examination. Filled with trepidation, he shouted at the knights to let the boy pass. Elric was panting and felt slightly sick.

  “You must tell me where you got this.” Gavin threatened the boy with his hand.

  “Your brother—Earl—William—Will—gave it to me.” Elric’s world had not yet stopped turning.

  “Why does he have it?”

  “How should I know? He said it would make you trust me.” Elric’s balance began to return.

  “We saw you yesterday. Elric, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Elric said, uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “But I have a message for you from your brother. Do you want it or not?” He sounded more defiant than he felt.

  “Tell me—”

  But at that moment Kamil appeared with Dargent. “We must go,” he said.

  Gavin mounted. “Quickly,” he said to Elric, “we have no more time. You say Will had a message?”

  “I can get men into the tower without being seen,” said Elric a little sullenly, for he felt he was being treated like a child. “If they follow me, your brother is waiting.”

  Gavin hesitated. He looked at the necklace again, then slipped it down the front of his shirt. At the feel of it, his confidence grew. “Do whatever this boy tells you.” He touched the bump the green jasper made. “It’s time to have faith again,” he said, allowing himself a slight smile. Behind his back the knights shook their heads doubtfully, but Gavin had already gone.

  He and Kamil cantered to the tower gate and silently endured a short but insulting speech from the gatekeeper. They were to go inside on foot. Gavin’s lips were set as he dismounted, and despite the green jasper, a sudden nausea overcame him. Kamil fell into step behind him.

  “Only the count,” the gatekeeper said.

  Gavin recovered himself. “Tell me,” he said, “do you have a right arm?”

  The man laughed scornfully. “Of course.”

  “Well,” said Gavin, “you would never leave it behind, would you? This man is my right arm, and I never leave him behind.” He pushed his way through, and Kamil slipped in after him.

  The courtyard was full of soldiers, and Gavin noticed the hayrick being secured in one corner, although it was too high for him to see Sacramenta, now tied behind it. The sun had vanished, and a leaden pall descended as a few flakes of snow began to drift down, a final wintry flurry. It reminded Gavin of the weather on his wedding day. He was jostled up the steps into the hall and was very glad to feel Kamil at his side. Constable de Scabious was not there. Nor was Ellie. He began to feel some tightness in his chest and started violently when the sergeant approached from behind. He was grinning. “The constable has told me to bid you welcome,” he said. “I am to offer you a drink.”

  Gavin dashed the proffered wine to the floor. “Enough of this,” he said.

  The sergeant clicked his tongue as if reproving a naughty child. “Clumsy,” he murmured, and the soldiers began to laugh. Gavin ignored them. The sergeant was sorry not to get a rise. “You don’t seem quite dressed for a wedding,” he remarked. Surely this would do it. “But then it isn’t your wedding, so I suppose it doesn’t matter. Have you bought the happy couple a gift?”

  Gavin did not allow himself even to blink. He made himself think only of Richard’s seal and Ellie. The constable and his odious sidekick would soon have their smugness punctured. At the door leading into the tapestry room, the sergeant halted, as if he had just remembered something. “Oh yes. Your weapons,” he said. “We will leave them at the door. That’s customary at weddings, I think. I’ll help you. Really, buckles are impossible with one hand, don’t you find?” His grin was nearly splitting his face, but Kamil pushed him out of the way and undid Gavin’s sword belt himself, reluctantly handing over his own also. The sergeant placed them both with mock deference on the floor.

  The soldiers had had no difficulty bringing Ellie down the steps into the tapestry room. She had neither fought nor screamed. It was as if she had retreated into herself. Her eyes were dead, and she asked no questions. Occasionally she fingered the bare place on her neck where the green jasper should have been, but apart from that her movements were minimal.

  De Scabious was waiting for her, bouncing on his heels. This was quite a moment in his life. Everything was ready. When Ellie appeared, he was wise enough not to approach her, but indicated only that she should stand on the side of the fireplace farthest from the door. Ellie did not acknowledge him, and when he tried to address her, she looked steadfastly into the flames. Even if Will was behind the tapestry, she did not see how he could rescue her now.

  But Will was not behind the tapestry. Before Ellie had been brought before her bridegroom, a low grumble had echoed up from the bottom of the tunnel, and he and Gethin had rushed down to try to quell the noise. If he were to realize it was there, de Scabious could block the tunnel mouth in seconds. To Will’s frantic frustration, in the cave where the tunnels met, they had found Peter and a dozen angry men armed with farm implements, determined to get into the castle, offer their services, and claim a reward from a king they still determinedly believed to be John.

  As Ellie faced de Scabious, Will and Gethin had their backs to the wall and were fighting fiercely and silently, trying to disarm the villagers rather than kill them, all the while knowing that their one opportunity to get to Ellie might be passing them by. The battle was very uneven, for despite their swords the two young men were almost overcome by the sheer numbers.

  Will had almost given up hope when, holding a lantern high above his head, Elric appeared, leading the Hartslove knights he had persuaded to follow him. Seldom had a sight been so welcome, but it still took too long before the villagers were overcome and secured.

  When Gavin and Kamil entered the tapestry room, Ellie did not immediately see them. It was only when Gavin spoke her name that she looked up, and when she realized who was standing in front of her, she thought her heart was going to jump out of her chest.

  “Gavin?” It came out in the smallest of whispers. “Gavin?”

  She stumbled, then flew to him. In a moment she had her arms around his neck. He shut his eyes, and for a second they were back at Hartslove, a young couple whose life together was just beginning. The illusion was shattered in a second.

  “Very touching,” de Scabious remarked. “Now to business.”

  Ellie did not notice Kamil until she and Gavin moved together toward the tapestry wall, and the constable himself gave Gavin’s companion only a cursory inspection, never thinking for a moment that this could be the hooded man he had met at the quayside. Since both his guests were unarmed and he had dozens of men to call upon, the constable was not worried by his presence. Kamil took his place at Ellie’s right side.

  “How very convenient of you to turn up today, Master Gavin,” de Scabious began. “Of course, if King John arrives, your men outside will find themselves in trouble, but I expect you will be gone long before then.” He waited, obviously expecting a reply of some sort, but Gavin said nothing. De Scabious began to feel a little nervous. He told himself this was ridiculous, since he held all the trump cards. Nevertheless, Gavin did not look like a man about to lose everything.

  Ellie felt a shiver of a draft on her neck as the tapestry shifted.

  “Now,” said de Scabious, “we did not meet last under the most propitious circumstances, but bygones should be bygones. I am depending on you to get Miss Eleanor to see where her best interests lie. I imagine you know what her best interests are, because you have given yourself quite some time”—the constable tittered, and the sergeant followed his lead—“to think about them. But I assume you have come here at last because you now fully understand and appreciate that with our new king we find ourselves in a new situation?”

 
“You can assume nothing,” said Gavin.

  “Oh, I think we can,” said de Scabious, rocking. “The new king—”

  “There is no new king.”

  “Oh, Master Gavin, not the same old games.”

  “I would rather die than play games with you.”

  De Scabious’s tongue protruded a little. “Richard is dead,” he said.

  Gavin reached for his pouch, which he had made sure to fasten so that he could draw out Richard’s seal without help. The constable looked at it stupidly.

  “It’s Richard’s seal,” said Gavin helpfully. “It comes as proof that he is alive and will shortly be back.”

  Ellie held her breath, and in the silence that followed, the seal swung gently. The draft from behind the tapestry was now quite strong, although everything was deathly quiet. Kamil sensed something, and Ellie saw the muscles in his face flex. She pressed his arm, warning him not to turn around.

  The constable’s normally florid face was blotchy. “So,” he said, “it’s a forgery.”

  Gavin raised his eyebrows. “Can you take that chance?”

  De Scabious booted the dogs to one side. “I don’t believe that Richard is alive,” he said, but his stomach felt as if a toad were sitting in it. If only he could boast of the Assassin! But even de Scabious knew better than that.

  “That is your choice,” said Gavin. “But it is not a wise choice. Now let Eleanor, my brother, and Old Nurse go. They are of no use to you now, and Richard may be lenient if you send them home without blood being shed. Admit defeat, de Scabious.”

  “Never,” the constable shook his head. “I believe in King John, and I will marry that girl.” His voice became as sinister as a snake’s. “And she will agree. I have only to do this”—he snapped his fingers—“and that stack of hay in the courtyard will go up in flames. Do you know what is behind it, clever Master Gavin? Do you know? Your brother, that fat old woman, and—this would especially upset Miss Eleanor—that noisy mare she is so fond of!” The constable was almost dancing. “Yes! In minutes they will be dead.” He saw Gavin glance at the sergeant’s belt, and his delight increased. “The key to their prison is not there!” he purred. “It is at the bottom of the well.” His purr turned into a snarl. “Once that hay is alight, nothing will save them.” He crossed his arms. “Now, Miss Eleanor. You will agree to marry me in front of witnesses. Then we will go upstairs for a little, hmmm, consummation. Then, and only then, might I let Master William and the fat old hag go wherever they want. To hell for all I care. It’s up to you, Miss Eleanor, entirely up to you.” He held up his hand, his fingers ready. “Sergeant!”