Fate of the Crown

by Paul J Bennett

  "And you wish to avoid any unnecessary entanglements, I suppose?"

  "Yes," she admitted, "and I'm willing to pay extra for your discretion."

  Garan looked around the room in thought. "I can do it, but it'll cost you."

  Nikki smiled, pulling forth a purse and dropping it on the table. "How about this for the first half, the rest on delivery?"

  He lifted the purse, testing its weight, then peered inside, smiling. "This will do nicely," he said. "You said there's just two of you?"

  "That's correct, myself and one other."

  "Very well," he replied, pocketing the purse. "When you're ready, come here and look for Harriet. She'll bring you down to the docks where we'll have a boat ready."

  "Isn't the river frozen?" Nikki asked.

  “Only partially. Don't worry, we know where the ice is thickest. We'll take a boat if it's thin. Otherwise, we'll guide you across the river, will that do?"

  She stared at the man's face, trying to gauge his trustworthiness. "Very well," she replied, "I'll next see you when it's time to leave."

  Six

  The Duke's Guest

  Winter 961/962 MC

  Mather Reed put his feet on the table, leaning back in his chair and rocking it on two feet. He placed his hands behind his head, intertwining his fingers and closed his eyes, imagining a different life, with beautiful women at his beck and call.

  He was startled out of his reverie by the sound of a door opening, and his eyes flew open to see a woman standing in the archway, her face masked by the shadows of her winter cloak.

  Suddenly conscious of his pose, he lowered his chair and removed his feet from the table.

  "Can I help you, Miss?" he asked a moment later.

  "Are you the jail keeper?" she countered, her voice melodic and sultry.

  "That's me," he said, rising to his feet and puffing out his chest. "Mather Reed, at your service."

  The woman entered, her eyes barely visible until she removed the hood to reveal a woman of substance; hair carefully set, clean face, and a smile that would charm a Holy Father. Mather immediately knew this was a woman of means.

  "I understand you have prisoners here," she continued.

  "All sorts, Miss," he replied. "Is there one, in particular, you were interested in?"

  "As a matter of fact, there is," she replied, coming closer. She paused before him, the table holding her at arm's length, "I understand you apprehended a spy?"

  Mather's face scrunched up in thought. "A spy? I don't think so," he replied, and then a look of understanding took hold. "Ah, you mean the traitor?"

  She smiled, and his heart melted. "Yes, that's the one. I heard one of the knights captured him?"

  "Yes," said Mather, "Sir Nigel brought him in."

  "A Knight of the Sword," she said, "how interesting."

  Mather warmed to the task now, the smile on her face drawing him in.

  "Well," she continued, "I should go, I don't want to keep you from your duties."

  "No, wait," he blurted out, desperate to keep her in the room. "Perhaps you'd like to see him? It's not every day we have a traitor in our midst."

  She halted, giving him hope, a sly smile curling the ends of her mouth. "How intriguing. Perhaps I will let you indulge me; I've never seen a traitor before."

  "Let me fetch my keys," he said, "and then I'll take you down there."

  "Isn't it dangerous?" she asked. "What if the prisoners overpower you?"

  He laughed, "They're secure enough. Beyond this door here, is a hallway which leads to the cells. The cells themselves are locked, and only my companion, down in the guard room has the keys."

  "I thought this was the guard room?" she asked, her voice dripping like honey.

  "No, I'm just the jail keeper. I look after all the important stuff. There's another man down the hallway that holds the keys and feeds the prisoners; it makes it harder for them to escape." He halted at the door, pulling forth a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. It clicked as he turned it and then he pulled on the handle, swinging the door outward. "After you," he offered.

  He stood close to the door, forcing her to brush past him as she entered, the smell of her perfume captivating. As soon as she was through, he followed, turning to face the door. "Just have to lock the door," he said, "can't be too careful with these rogues."

  Hands reached around him from behind, the heady scent of perfume once more drifting to his nose. "I like a man that knows his job," she whispered in his ear.

  He never spoke again. The slim dagger drove up, expertly placed beneath his ribs, and Nikki guided his limp body to the ground, carefully extracting the weapon as she did so. She turned her attention to the hallway, lit by a single oil lamp that hung from the rafters. The jail keeper had told her all she needed to know. She could see the end of the hallway, blocked by a stout wooden door, while on either side there were wooden doors with barred windows. She moved to the door on her right and peered through, only to be met with an empty chamber.

  She pursed her lips in disappointment and then moved to the door opposite. She heard a faint noise coming from beyond it and peered through the window. Like its companion behind her, the room was a modest size, perhaps no more than twelve feet or so in depth. It ran the length of the corridor, a good twenty feet, with a window opposite that opened into the courtyard, letting in enough moonlight to illuminate the occupants.

  Nikki counted six men, though in the shadows she couldn't identify which one was Arnim. She let out a bird whistle, trying not to be too loud. There were stirrings on the floor, where the men lay, but none rose. Fearful that the noise might alert the guard, she lifted her dress, pulling forth the lock picks she kept tucked in her garter, and then bent to the task at hand.

  Working in the shadows was not ideal, but years of practice had honed her skills. Soon, after a satisfying sound, she felt the door unlock. She pushed gently, swinging it open quietly to peer in while waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before stepping inside. Moving the lock picks to her left hand, she drew her dagger in her right; these were criminals, after all. Creeping forward slowly, she looked at each man in turn, finally settling on the familiar shape of Arnim Caster.

  She almost let out a gasp when she saw him, for he had not been treated kindly by the guards; he had a swollen face with clothes bloodied and tattered. She reached out, gently shaking him. "Arnim," she whispered.

  He murmured something, and then his eyes opened as she leaned over him in the dark. Suddenly, his hands shot out, grabbing her by the throat.

  "It's Nikki," she called out softly, not resisting.

  The hands dropped. "Nikki?" he murmured.

  "Come on, let's get you out of here," she said, offering her hand.

  He took it, hauling himself to his feet. Despite his injuries, he smiled. "I knew you'd come," he whispered, "but how did you find me?"

  She led him out to the hallway, her hand grasped firmly around his. "When you didn't turn up at the inn, I came looking," she said. "It didn't take long to hear about the arrest, it's all over town."

  She paused, letting go of his hand.

  "What are you doing?" he said, as she turned back to the door.

  "Locking the door," she said, pulling it closed. "It'll add to the mystery."

  Arnim was confused but said nothing as Nikki started in with her lock picks.

  A moment later and all was done. "There," she said, "everything back where it should be."

  Arnim saw the dead guard blocking the exit and hauled him out of the way.

  "You should take his sword," said Nikki. "I'm sorry, I don't know where yours went."

  "That old thing? I won't miss it; I have King Dathen's sword back in Queenston. I'm glad I didn't bring it with me."

  Nikki opened the door to the main office, the key still sitting in its lock. She stood aside, waiting for Arnim to exit. A moment later she stepped through, locking the door behind her.

  "Come on," she sa
id, "we have to get out of here. With any luck, they won't find anything amiss for some time."

  She was about to leave when Arnim grabbed her hand.

  "Wait," he said, scanning about the room, "I'll freeze out there."

  "Don't worry," she replied, "I've stashed some clothes nearby. This isn't my first jailbreak."

  He looked at her in surprise, but she just smiled. "Now come along, my love, we've got to get to the docks before someone raises the alarm."

  She led them across the road and down a side street where they halted. Nikki reached behind a water barrel and pulled forth a sack, extracting a bundle of clothes which she then tossed to Arnim. He dressed quickly, pulling the woollen tunic over his head only to see her holding out a pair of boots.

  "You thought of everything," he said.

  "Like I said," she replied, "not my first jailbreak. I know how petty guards can be."

  He pulled on the boots while she stripped out of her dress. "Time for Lady Nicole to disappear," she said, "and get back to good old Nikki."

  Arnim watched as she laced up her new outfit. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  She looked at the smile on his face, "There’ll be plenty of time for that later, my love. We have to get out of here."

  "No, I meant your hair. You can't wander about town dressed like a commoner with hair like that, it's a dead give-away."

  "Oh yes, I forgot," she said, mussing her hair. "Better?"

  "Much," he replied, "now lead on, we haven't much time before dawn."

  She led them through the city, cutting down alleys and keeping close to the shadows. Soon, they approached the docks, the telltale smell of the river revealing its proximity.

  "We're almost there," she said, "The Pearl is close by. We have to contact someone called Harriet and then they'll take us across the river."

  A few more side streets and they came out at the edge of the water. The Pearl was close by, its sign swinging in the cool breeze that blew across the river.

  "It's colder than I would have thought," remarked Arnim. "I'm glad you brought me these clothes."

  "Are they warm enough?" she asked. "We have a lot of ground to cover once we're on the other bank."

  "They're fine," he said. "Now let's get a move on, I want to be across the river before the sun comes up."

  They made their way along the street, walking in the open as if they belonged. The sounds of the tavern drew nearer as they made their way to the entrance.

  Arnim led, opening the door to feel the warmth of the room envelope him. He stepped inside, holding the door for Nikki who moved past him, heading to a nearby table. A moment later, they were seated.

  It didn't take long for their arrival to be noticed. Harriet came over, stopping in front of them. "I see you made it," she said.

  "Yes," said Nikki, "I hope everything's arranged?"

  "It is," she confirmed, "I'll just get you a drink to warm you up while they prepare the boat." She disappeared into the back room after a quick word with the barkeep. Another server dropped two tankards on the table, the ale sloshing over the rims.

  Nikki was about to take a sip when Arnim's hand stopped her. "Hold a moment," he warned, "something doesn't feel right."

  She placed the drink back on the table, her eyes scanning the room. "People are leaving," she said quietly. ”They know something's about to go down."

  Arnim looked to the doorway. Two large men stood there, their hands resting on the hilts of their knives.

  "What do we do?" asked Nikki.

  "Is there another way out?" he asked.

  "Yes, around back, behind the bar, but they'll have that covered."

  "Saxnor's balls," said Arnim, "we'll have to fight our way out."

  "Then what?" said Nikki. "We still need to cross the river. It'll take forever to launch a boat."

  "The river's frozen," said Arnim. "We can make it across on the ice."

  She looked at him in horror, "The ice can't possibly be thick enough to hold us."

  Arnim stood, ignoring her protest. He had his tankard in his right hand, his left resting on his hip, near to the sword he had stolen.

  "A toast!” he yelled out loud, drawing the attention of all in the room. He moved toward the door slowly, his face to the crowd, “To our good King Henry, may his reign be short." He turned suddenly, using the tankard to throw ale into the face of one of the door guards.

  Taken by surprise, the man gasped, raising his hands in reaction. Nikki, having discerned her husband's plan, struck out, the dagger slipping silently into the second man's gut.

  They didn't wait for a reaction, rather they pushed forward, forcing the men to the ground. Arnim's left hand punched the man's face, breaking his opponent's fingers as they were clutching at his ale-soaked eyes. The guard fell heavily while his companion joined him on the floor, clutching his stomach. Nikki leaped over him, rushing through the doorway, Arnim close behind. They paused only a moment to take their bearings.

  "This way," yelled Nikki, "there's stairs down to the water."

  Yelling erupted behind them, and they heard the call to action as they rushed toward the river, descending the stone steps quickly onto a short wooden pier. Standing at the end, the darkness hid the distant shore, but the ice below was easy to see. Arnim lowered Nikki, joining her a moment later. He took a step, and hearing a crack, froze in place.

  "What was that?" Nikki cried out in alarm.

  "The ice," he replied. "Move slowly, make for the far bank."

  They headed off across the ice, moving as slowly as they dared. Shouts came from the steps, and then the voices drew closer. Arnim risked a look over his shoulder only to see half a dozen men crowding the wooden pier.

  "Faster, Nikki," he called out, "they're catching up to us." As he took another step, his foot slipped out from under him, sending him to his knees with a loud noise as cracks radiated out from where he had hit. He rose slowly, his eyes riveted on the ever-spreading cracks. Men were lowering themselves onto the ice behind him, and he risked another glance, then turned his eyes toward Nikki. She was a good twenty paces or so in front of him, making steady progress.

  Shifting his attention back to his pursuers, he withdrew his knife. Three of them were coming close now, spread out so as not to break through.

  Arnim drove the knife into the ice, creating more cracks. One of the pursuers must have realized what he was doing for he suddenly turned, scrambling back toward the dock. The other two, however, moved closer, prompting Arnim to repeat the action.

  "You won't do it," yelled one of them, "you'd go down with us."

  Nikki had turned upon hearing the voice. "Arnim, no!" she screamed, but it was too late. He drove the blade down a third time, and suddenly the ice broke.

  Arnim pitched forward as the ice disintegrated beneath his feet, plunging into the frigid water. He stabbed down again and again with his knife, trying to find a chunk thick enough to hold him up. Finally, his knife stuck in, and he hung on for dear life.

  His pursuers, however, were splashing about, now intent on their own fate, forgetting their quarry. The cold quickly sapped his remaining strength, and he lost any feeling in his legs. Struggling to hold onto the knife handle, his hands lost feeling by the moment. He managed to keep his head above the water, but try as he might, he couldn't haul himself up onto the ice; his strength was spent. He watched as Nikki drew closer, but more cracks appeared.

  "No," he cried out, "the ice is too thin, save yourself!"

  "I waited years for you," she yelled, "I am not giving up on you now."

  He stopped struggling, resigned to his fate, for surely it was the only way she would be convinced to leave him. Closing his eyes, he was about to release his grip when a thought struck him.

  "Crawl," he cried out. "You need to spread out your weight, or the ice will crack."

  He watched her lower herself to a prone position, then she began to inch forward. It seemed to take an agonizingly long time until her hand was there,
right in front of him. He reached out, unable to feel anything, hoping she could pull him out. She grasped his forearm and hauled back with all her might, rising to a sitting position to do so.

  Slowly he emerged from the water, his body resisting his best efforts to help. Finally, he lay on the ice, unable to move, but Nikki worked feverishly. He felt her cloak cover him and then she removed his scabbard and belt. This, she looped around his ankles and then she headed for the far bank on all fours using the belt to drag him.

  He fought to stay conscious, his mind fogged by the cold. Ice and snow passed by him as he looked left and right, struggling to make sense of everything. He felt a bump and then, to his amazement, he saw grass poking through the snow; they had made it to the far bank.

  Seven

  War Council

  Winter 961/962 MC

  With the return of Nikki and Arnim to Kingsford, the princess called a council of war. Now, they all sat around the table, eager to learn details.

  "Can it even be done?" asked Revi. "Moving an army in the winter time is problematic, to say the least."

  "Yes," replied Gerald, "though there are numerous difficulties.

  "All right, supposing we get them to the city," continued the mage, "then what? We have no siege engines. It would be impossible to breach the walls."

  "Arnim and Nikki's report tells us otherwise," Anna reminded him. "There are numerous weaknesses we can exploit."

  "Well, I guess there is the advantage of surprise," said the mage.

  "I've marked the weak spot in the walls," said Arnim, "and from what Hayley tells me, the Trolls could easily batter it down with stones."

  "The Trolls will be a surprise," cautioned Hayley, "but the defenders will still be expecting an attack on the walls, they've been reinforcing them for weeks now."

  "I have other ideas," said Gerald, "but of greater concern to me is getting the army to Colbridge in the first place. We have a winter march ahead of us and a lot of terrain to cover."