As he stands and turns to face them, the others in the room drop to one knee, bow their heads, and as one voice say “My Prince.”
Lindy stands to the side of the room as they all rise to leave, forgotten once more. She’s only a servant girl and isn’t important enough to be noticed when other matters are taking place, such as visiting one’s stricken brother. She gathers the cups and goblets from the desk, mulling over what she’s heard as she carries them back to the kitchens.
It seems something is afoot, but as yet she can’t determine what that might be.
“Is Bronwyn with him?” David asks as they make their way to his brother’s chambers. “She must be devastated.”
“I don’t think she knows yet, your grace. The prince’s wife is away visiting family, but we’ve sent a messenger and an escort to return her to the castle safely.”
“Oh dear goodness.”
The captain strides alongside him, his eyes alert.
David turns to his wife. “You must meet her, Elena, when she arrives. I don’t know how they might have broken the news to her, but she’s a gentle soul. I’d have no idea what to say to her.”
“Of course I shall meet her, husband. We’ve become dear friends and I’ll do my best to console her.” She grips his arm tightly.
He notices more guards than usual in the corridors as they mount the great staircase into Prince Llewellyn’s halls of residence. All snap to attention as they pass by.
“You think there’s still danger to him?” It was more of a statement than a question, for although he had only a basic tutelage in the arts of statecraft, David understood what a country might face in a time of crisis. Learning about the politics of it all had been unavoidable.
“If word got out that your brother still lives then they may return to finish the job and that I can’t allow.”
John’s demeanour is professional as ever.
“The healers are with him?” His pace is brisk as they reach his brother’s private quarters. “Have they said anything yet?”
“They’re within. I haven’t had a report yet.”
The captain nods to the two at the door, and they move aside. He raps on the oak and calls out his name. The bolt grates as it’s withdrawn and the door’s opened by a member of the prince’s personal guard.
He stands to one side and waits for David to pass him. Elena gently squeezes her husband’s arm as they enter the bedchamber to see his brother on his bed, attended by two monks.
“He just looks like he’s asleep.” David crosses to the bedside and reaches out to take his brother’s hand. He clasps it gently. “He feels cold, should we not build up his fire, or bring more blankets?”
“We haven’t yet determined what his injuries might be, your grace.” The elder of the two monks replies. “He appears to have bruising on the side of his head, and we can find no other mark on his body, but he still sleeps. If he has swelling in his head then increasing the heat might make matters worse.”
He nods. “Yes, that makes sense. I’ve read treatises which mention that. Is there anything else we can do for him? Have efforts been made to wake him?”
The monk reaches inside his robes and brings out a small bottle, showing it to the prince’s brother. He removes the cap from the bottle and holds it out gently towards him. “Inhale gently, your grace.”
He leans over the bottle, takes a short sniff and immediately steps back coughing with his eyes watering. The captain leaps forward his hand on the pommel of his weapon.
“Stop!” The monk steps back, his hand raised between them. “It’s just an acrid smell designed to wake the sleeper, it does no harm, see?” The monk places the bottle under his nose and sniffs, eliciting the same response. “Now, watch as I do the same to our patient.”
He places it beneath the supine prince’s nostrils and moves it back and forwards for several seconds. They see no reaction.
“Whatever has caused his sleep, it’s a deep one from which we cannot rouse him.” He re-stoppers the bottle.
John relaxes a little. “Be very careful, monk, before you pull any more tricks like that in my presence.”
He nods and smiles. “I beg your forgiveness, captain, but I merely wished to demonstrate what we’d tried already, and why it should have worked. We’re rapidly exhausting what little knowledge we have of this type of affliction.”
“Will he die?” Elena asks.
“He seems stable, my lady, his condition hasn’t worsened nor has it improved since he was brought here hours ago. Looking at the short term, it is promising. He may simply awaken, once the hurt that’s been done to him heals.”
“Can we tell what type of weapon did this?” The sergeant asks.
The captain turns to regard him, and he bows his head sheepishly. “Sorry, sir, I was just thinking out loud.”
“Actually, you have a point.”
He joins the monk by the bed and leans down to examine the prince’s temple.
“The blow appears localised and accurate. No edged weapon has touched him, and I’m sure if they’d used a hammer they would have caved his skull in, not knocked him out. Did he bang his head when he fell?”
The monk leans in for a closer look and points to the temple where the swelling and bruising can be seen.
“He appears to have been struck by something circular, possibly a ball hammer, but as you say that would surely have shattered his skull so I’m at a loss to explain exactly what it might have been.”
“Perhaps a fist?” The captain asks. “I’ve seen bare knuckle bouts where men have been knocked out with no permanent injuries.”
The monk nods. “He may have been struck with a fist, or a knee? I can’t say for certain. Perhaps the attacker was disturbed and wasn’t able to finish him?”
Prince David sighs heavily. “Though it hurts me to say it, there seems to be little more we can do here. Do you have his ring, captain?”
“Not yet, sire.” He stands alert once more. “It may have fallen off during the attack. I have men searching the area.”
David frowns like he is about to argue, then changes his mind.
“Then let us leave the healers to their task. I want to know who did this and why they did it. I want them caught.”
He thanks the monks and leaves the room, accompanied by his wife.
“Llewellyn! Llewellyn!” The woman runs up the main staircase and rushes round the corner straight into Prince David.
They collapse on the floor in a heap, him underneath trying to break her fall, as the sergeant and captain rush to lift them back to their feet.
“Is it true, David? Is he dead? Have they killed him?”
“Calm yourself, Bronwyn. He’s not dead.” He stands, holding John’s arm as the sergeant helps the Llewellyn’s wife to her feet.
“But the people outside were all saying that he’s dead. I heard them when we arrived. The guards told me he’d been hurt but that was hours ago and now everyone says he’s dead.” She begins to cry. “Where is he?”
“He’s in your chambers. He’s not dead and the healers are with him. He has a nasty bump on his head, and they said he might wake up any time.”
He turns to the guards.
“Sergeant, please take Lady Bronwyn to her husband immediately.”
Elena steps forward, a little out of breath from running after Bronwyn after her carriage arrived. “I’ll take you, the sergeant can come with us should he so desire.”
She takes Elena’s hand and loops her arm through her own. “Come, sister, we’ll go together, and you can stay with him for a time.”
The captain nods to the sergeant who follows them back to the bedchamber.
The main party continue on down the great staircase, approaching David’s office.
“I’m depending on you here, John. I’ve studied, I’ve been tutored and I’ve been trained, but never for this.” His brow is deeply furrowed.
“As you say, sire, your education has not been lacking. If I
might be so bold, I’d suggest that it’s simply a matter of confidence. You and Llewellyn are cut from the same cloth.”
He resists the temptation to clap the younger prince on the shoulder, as he did when he’d taught them both swordplay years before.
“Remember, you don’t have to do this alone. Your brother has a whole gamut of advisers and experts to assist him in his tasks, all of them will advise you now.”
“That’s a valid point. I hadn’t thought of that.” David stops and turns to face John. “I know they’ll all expect me to take charge, as indeed you do, but I would ask you, old friend, to try to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”
“That’ll never happen, sire.” The captain smiles at his erstwhile student. “You have a quick mind and a subtle grasp of all you study. I’m sure by the end of the day you’ll be at home and everything will be running smoothly again.”
“I’ll freely admit, I am hoping that by the end of the day my brother will have woken up and I can return to my paintbrushes.” He smiles at the captain and enters the office to take his place at the desk once more. “You think we could rustle up more wine, and maybe something sweet to go with it? I don’t think well when I’m hungry.”
John laughs.
“I’m sure we can arrange that, sire, and then we have things to discuss.”
Lady Bronwyn Pentrev lets out a small cry as she sees her husband lying on his bed, so still and pale, and rushes across the room, throwing herself upon him.
“Llewellyn! Llewellyn,” she talks to him through her sobbing, “I’m here now, please wake up.” She runs a hand over his face. “You’re so cold, my love.” She buries her head in his hair sobbing, clasping his hands in her own.
One of the monks walks round the bed to her and touches her gently on the shoulder.
“Get off me!” She shouts at him. “Can’t you see what they’ve done to him? Why is no one doing anything? Shouldn’t he have hot poultices or medicines, or leeches or something?”
She holds up his right hand, the fingers unadorned. “And, where is his ring?”
“Please, my lady, get up. We don’t know for certain what afflicts him, and you may be doing him harm.” The monk says.
“Really?” She pushes herself off and stands by the side of the bed. “But why won’t he wake up?”
“We don’t know, yet. Apart from a bump on his head, as we told the others earlier, he’s unharmed. He wasn’t wearing a ring when he arrived.” The heavy woollen robe swishes as the monk stands again.
Lady Elena approaches him. “Have you sent for help?”
The monk looks at her puzzled. “What help did you have in mind, my lady?”
“Other healers.” She looks at him directly. “Isn’t there a college of healing in Aberffraw to the South? Surely they might have someone who has seen this before and knows what to do?”
The monk scratches his chin. “It would take a day or so to get someone from there, but I know of it. I believe our abbot has contact with them. Perhaps he could sway them to send someone, if you feel that would help, my lady?”
“I’m sure they must have more expertise in the king’s city than we do here.” Elena replies. “Surely, we’re honour bound to try everything that might assist our prince?”
Bronwyn looks up from where she kneels by the side of the bed clasping her husband’s hand.
“Please, if it will help Llewellyn, you must ask him.”
Joshua strides through the great Hall towards Prince David’s office when he almost collides with the serving maid and has to jump sharply sideways.
“Sorry, Lindy. I didn’t see you there. I had things on my mind.”
“As do we all, Joshua. If you’re on your way back to the office, you can get the door for me. It’s hard work balancing the tray and opening that at the same time.”
She nods towards the offices.
“Of course I will. Come on, let’s get in there before they think I’m not coming back. It’s a nasty business.” He steps ahead of her.
The two guards move aside and Joshua opens the door, swinging it wide to enable the girl and the wine tray to enter behind him.
“Ah, good.” The new prince clears a space upon his desk. “Just pop it down there. We have things to discuss and I’m not happy with you two standing around while we do it, so either pull up a chair or find me some people who will sit down.”
The captain and the sergeant each drag one of the wooden, velvet upholstered chairs from the side of the room to the front of the desk and seat themselves, fidgeting and shuffling their feet.
“This is no time to stand on ceremony.”
He looks at the captain. “Now, how did they know where my brother would be? How did they overpower his bodyguards? Why did they not kill him? Who stands to gain from his death? Did I miss anything?”
Lindy pours mulled wine and allows them to help themselves to honey to sweeten it.
“Shouldn’t we wait until Lindy has gone, your grace?”
“That would be pointless, John, since everyone in the town is already gossiping about what happened and knows more than I do. Can we get on with this please? I have no idea what we need to do next.”
The captain takes a deep gulp of his hot, sweet wine, the tartness hitting the back of his tongue as he swallows.
“As I said earlier, I would guess at around six men and a very organised attack, sire.”
“And William’s involvement in this?” David’s raises his eyebrows.
“To be honest, I’m as shocked as you are, but it is not just the brooch. Joshua here went to bring him in for questioning this morning, and we found strange things.”
He points at the window behind the prince.
“There were windows such as that one on the ground floor of his house, but false. Just some shutters outside with a recess behind them. The whole ground floor was like this and even though we had him trapped inside the building he was somehow able to vanish before he could be brought in to stand before us.”
“What do you mean, vanish?” David’s mouth falls open.
“The whole troop I sent to arrest him swear he was trapped inside the house in an upstairs room. The search revealed no other exits in his home and yet, once they broke down his heavily reinforced front door, he was nowhere to be seen. The only exit was guarded during the whole search.”
John leans back in his chair, pulling his lips briefly over his teeth.
“There’s something very queer about him. I don’t think he’s who he claims to be.”
He can see his sergeant nodding.
“Are you perhaps being a little dramatic, John?” David points around his office. “Several of the art objects here, and many in the possession of my brother, were acquired through his dealership.”
“Yes, but what legitimate art dealer has such a strange home and can vanish into thin air when we try to arrest him? We do have the evidence of the brooch.” The captain points at the piece of jewellery, lying starkly on the polished mahogany table.
“Were there signs of any accomplices, since this attack would take half a dozen men, not one?” David asks.
“I’ve doubled the guards at all the gates, and around the castle and I have patrols checking for any strangers. I’ve sent runners to the outlying towns so they keep an eye out for any unusual parties travelling along the roads, but we’ve found nothing so far.”
The captain’s frustration is evident.
“I cannot think of anything that I would do differently, to be honest. What of my brother’s signet ring, has that been found yet?”
David sips his spiced wine, inhaling the rich vapour and trying to remain calm.
“Not yet, sire. We’ll be conducting a full search of William’s property later and hopefully something will turn up to give us a clue who he is and where he may have gone.” John leans forward. “In the meantime, my prince, the day-to-day running of the state must continue. Might I suggest that, even if only temporarily, you move to you
r brother’s offices to discuss matters with his advisers and take care of any business that can’t wait.”
“But surely, catching these attackers is of paramount importance?” David frowns.
“That’s true, but since the whole town guard and I will be out seeking answers, talking to witnesses and searching all those entering and leaving, what more could you do?”
John Yovvan stands and bows.
“Someone has to run the state, and only one of us in this room is qualified to do so, sire.”
Chapter 3
The man known as William Gracie is not having a good day.
As if waking up with a hangover wasn’t bad enough, having to leave behind his beloved home and trudge out into the snow, with this headache, just made it worse.
His first instinct is simply to leave and never return but the more he thinks about it the angrier he becomes. His friend has been attacked, and he’s being blamed for a crime which he didn’t commit.
This demands justice — and vengeance, lots of vengeance.
How to discover what’s going on is the tricky part.
It’s over a year since his last adventure, and he’s grown a little indolent. He was enjoying the easy life, the comforts of home and the benefits of wealth. It made a nice change from his usual fare of running around in the wilderness with enemies trying to kill him.
Now, though, things are back to normal, and he’s once again running around in the wilderness with enemies trying to kill him.
He snorts out loud and startles his pony. What can he do now?
Finding out exactly what he’s accused of must be a priority, but it’s not like he can march into the castle and demand answers. Well, not without being thrown in a cell somewhere, and probably tortured — or worse.
They might even make him listen to more of Prince David’s poetry. He laughs again.
What allies might he have left? If he’s being accused of murdering the prince, where can he go? Is there a chance that Bronwyn might speak with him? How can he find a place where he can contact her? If he does, why wouldn’t she just yell for the guards and have him arrested anyway?
The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan) Page 4