“Which gives us the time we need to take control. Eventually our new Prince Regent might even become the actual prince, having fulfilled the duties for long enough under law to do so without referral to the conclave. Either way, we shall be able to move forward with our plans in this country.”
He turns once more to his Lioness. “Assuming, that is, you can keep him malleable to our aims and persuade him of the right of our cause.”
“He has the mind of an artist, Venerable Ordo, and is easily manipulated. He relies heavily on me for advice since our marriage. It’s easy to plant the seeds of ideas within his weak mind and watch him bring them to fruition, thinking them his own. He’ll give us no trouble, I shall see to it.”
The corners of her mouth twitch into a cruel smile as she takes a sip from her goblet.
“No trouble at all.”
After listening for a few minutes, William waves for Lindy to stop.
“Just hold on one moment. Let me see if I have this straight.” He lowers his arms.
“They think I attacked the prince and killed all four of his bodyguards, unseen, in the snow, utilising insane assassination skills which I don’t possess. I then rendered him unconscious, and my accomplices and I made our escape. Whereupon, I retired to my bed drunk, and stayed there, so the sergeant could come and catch me the next morning, having found evidence on the prince that I was responsible for the attack?”
He pauses, taking a deep breath.
“Did I cover everything?”
“It does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Lindy replies. “I mean, I’ve known you a long time and you have your moments, but they usually don’t involve murdering innocent guards and leaving enemies lying around unconscious.”
“So, that’s why you’re here talking to me and not yelling for them to come and arrest me, I take it, my dear?” He grins.
“I know this sounds fishy, William, or whatever you’ve decided to call yourself at the moment. Something else is afoot and so far only you and I seem to have any suspicions.” Her eyes glance upwards. “The prince’s brother is standing in for him in the castle, the guards are all running back and forward doing his every whim, and Llewellyn’s wife sits heartbroken by his bed, when she’s not off to the temple with her sister-in-law.”
She picks straw off her dress and flicks it idly to one side. “Now, I could easily call the guards and tell them that I have the miscreant they seek sitting here, but I’d rather we worked together on this to discover what’s really going on.”
“A sweet little thing like you involved in plots and intrigue?” He smiles. “Why, I never thought I’d see the day, dear Lindy.”
She punches him, hard on the shoulder. “Any more of that and I’ll turn you in and work this mess out on my own.”
He mouths the word “ow” and sits still.
“What about Bronwyn? Does she think I did this?”
“I’m not certain what she believes.” She sighs. “Do try to remember, as far as everyone here’s concerned, I’m a serving maid. The higher-ups don’t usually take me into their confidence. I do know they’re intending to search your house for evidence later and I suspect they’ll find it.”
“I should jolly well think not! Why, I’ve never been involved in any…”
Realisation dawns on his face.
“Oh, I see. You mean someone will put it there for them to find, I take it?”
“Exactly.” She stands up and carefully brushes the hay and straw from her dress.
“I need to get back to work and you, my good Piper, must travel out of this land, and find some help.”
Having resumed her place in the cell, and carefully replaced everything just the way it should be, the Lady Elena kneels and awaits the signal from outside that her time is up.
The last of the incense stick is sputtering and the long poker of ash drops, somehow remaining whole, as it lands on the copper tray beneath.
The tiny bell above the door is activated by one of the monks whose duty is to ensure that the penitent cells are available throughout the day, and that the occupants have not, in fact, just fallen asleep.
Rising, she slides back the bolt, and exits to the main temple where she rejoins her sister-in-law. Bronwyn still kneels in prayer before the coals at the front of the altar, having tossed the last of her grain upon the fire.
“I’m sure he’ll hear us, dear sister.” Elena whispers as she takes her place beside her.
“He always hears us. We are his people, and he has created us for his purposes. What father does not listen to their children?” Her cheeks glisten with her tears. “I wish there was more I could do for Llewellyn.”
“Have you tried speaking with the abbot?” Elena turns to nod towards the side door of the chapel.
“You think that would help?” Bronwyn looks up. “Is there something more he can do?”
“Well, it certainly can’t do any harm. Shall we see him together?” Elena rises, taking her hand to assist her to her feet.
The women link arms and approach a monk at the side of the altar.
“Please, take us to the abbot.” Elena’s tone is imperious.
“He will be in his offices, my lady. We’re not supposed to disturb him at this time of day.” The monk bows. “I’m sure I could arrange for you to see him this evening, if you’re available?”
She moves closer to him.
“This is the wife of our prince. She wishes to see the abbot. I’m sure you are aware she’s a patron of this temple and not some girl who just wandered in off the street seeking to disturb your careful little routine.”
She lifts his chin with her finger and looks directly into his eyes.
“Now. You will take us to see him. You will joyfully interrupt the abbot, and you will not make this poor woman suffer any longer, will you?”
The monk swallows and wilts under her steely gaze.
“I meant no offence, your ladyships. I am sure the Lord Abbot can accommodate you immediately. Please, follow me.”
The monk bows again and leads them through a side door into the private area of the temple.
The corporal in charge of the small detachment guarding the house of William Gracie is surprised to see one of his lieutenants approaching accompanied by two guards who normally only work within the castle.
He snaps to attention and salutes. “Morning, sir.”
“Good morning, corporal. I take it the building is still secure?” The officer points at the house.
“No one’s been in, or out, sir.” Comes the formal reply.
“Has anyone searched the premises yet?” He stands back and studies the upper windows and roof of the building. A large crow shakes falling snow from its feathers, maintaining its tight grip on the ridge tiles as it stares balefully back at him.
“Not yet, Sir.” The corporal remains at attention. “I heard the captain is coming to take care of that later.”
“Did anyone search in the roof?” He makes a show of holding out his thumb and finger and measuring dimensions around the building.
“I don’t know, to be honest, sir. I’ve not been inside.” The corporal tightens his grip on the pole-arm. “They told me to stop anyone going in or out until the captain searches it.”
“And I’m sure you are doing an excellent job, corporal.” The lieutenant moves to enter the building accompanied by his two guards.
The corporal blocks his access to the house. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the captain did say ‘anyone’.”
“Do you really think he meant that to include officers of the prince’s own household? That would be ludicrous, wouldn’t it?” The lieutenant sticks his jaw out as he speaks.
The corporal looks thoughtful for a moment. “I do see what you mean, sir. As long as you say it’s all right and square it with the captain later?”
“Don’t worry corporal, everyone here saw me tell you that it’s fine, no one will blame you.” He turns to the two guards, waving them inside. “In we go m
en, I want to have a poke around and see if this place has an attic where he could be hiding.”
Once they’ve ascended to the middle floor of the building, below the roof, the lieutenant lowers his voice and speaks to the two men who accompany him.
“Right, thump around in the attic and make a bit of noise about it so they don’t get suspicious, then we’ll get on with what we came for.”
Two guards soon find the access to the attic and enter it, bumping around as they move crates and boxes as though seeking a hiding hole.
The lieutenant reaches inside his clothing for certain items which he places out of sight in the sitting room and continues his task in the bedroom.
The two guards descend and, after checking that no one else has entered, produce similar items and secrete them around the house.
After only a few minutes they leave the building again.
“Well, there’s nowhere in the attic for him to hide, corporal, but it was worth checking. Can you imagine the surprise on everyone’s faces if we dragged him out of there after they thought they’d looked everywhere?”
The lieutenant grins and slaps the corporal on the back.
“I bet they’d have looked like beetroot, sir.” He laughs. “I’d like to have seen that.”
“Me too, corporal, me too. Carry on.” The lieutenant marches back down the road along the main route to the castle accompanied by his associates, the grin on his face doesn’t fade.
The large crow stretches its wings, the black feathers in stark contrast to the white snow, and caws loudly.
Another detaches itself from the cliffs behind the house and swoops down to land noisily by the first who launches into the air, flapping wildly then soaring off to follow the lieutenant and his cohorts.
After waiting briefly outside the study door, the two women are ushered in.
The young monk leaves, seemingly grateful to be out of their presence at last.
The abbot stands. “My dear ladies, such tragic circumstances under which we meet. Do come in and tell me what I can do to assist you.”
“You certainly seem to be more accommodating than your staff, Lord Abbot.”
Elena’s tone leaves no doubt as to the source of her displeasure.
“My apologies, my lady, but he was just doing his job. If everyone who asked to see me was brought straight through to my office I’d never get any work done and, as you can see,” he indicates the stacks of paperwork scattered in disarray upon his desk, “I have a lot of work that I often fail to get done.”
“I’m sorry.” Bronwyn’s head drops. “Should we make an appointment and come back later? Only, I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
“Not at all, your grace, please.” He shuffles round to the other side of his large desk and arranges two chairs in front of it. “Come. Sit. Tell me how I may assist you.”
“Thank you, Lord Abbot.” She sits, adjusting her dress and cloak. “I don’t understand what has happened to my husband, but my dear sister suggested that you might have healers who possess more knowledge than those assigned to this place.”
“I can assure you, my lady, that we are doing the very best that they can for our prince. We all wish him a speedy recovery and everything at our disposal is being used to dispel whatever foul humour is upon him.” The abbot indicates the books behind himself. “We have access to many treatises upon the human condition, and we have been consulting them.”
“We are discussing my beloved husband, Lord Abbot. Forgive me if I seem abrupt, but can nothing more be done for him?” She stifles a sob. “Are we just wasting your time?”
“Calm yourself.” Elena places her hand upon Bronwyn’s arm. “Lord Abbot, as you can see my sister is quite distressed as is to be expected. I don’t wish to denigrate your assurances but, taking into consideration the remoteness of this location, surely your order has access to more experienced healers from further afield?”
“Certainly. In Aberffraw to the South, as I’m sure you’re aware Lady Elena, we have a whole college wherein all our best purveyors of that skill train.”
He moves back around his desk and retakes his seat.
“Then why not send for them Lord Abbot. I’m sure my dear sister, and I speak for myself here too, would rather have the master than the pupil dealing with the life of His Highness. I wouldn’t wish to see him fail to recover because we hadn’t used the best resources available to us, would you?” Elena raises an eyebrow.
Bronwyn can no longer hold back her sobs and her shoulders shake as she buries her head in her hands and begins to cry.
“Oh please, your grace, I admit that I’m unsure as to the exact cause of your husband’s condition, but be assured that we can help him.” He turns to the other woman. “I’ll pass messages to the capital and impress upon them the urgency of sending someone to assist us, and of maintaining secrecy.”
“I was there last year.” Lady Elena replies. “I encountered a marvellous healer by the name of Brother Michael of Solace. As I recall, everyone assured me that he was the best in the land. If you were to send for him, and he was successful, I am sure our gratitude would be expressed in terms that would aid the upkeep of your temple here, Lord Abbot.”
“You’re well informed, my lady. Brother Michael is most advanced in the art of healing. I shall request that he attend, but please be aware my lady that the demands on his time are many. Should he not be able to come there will be very good reason.”
The abbot raises his hands and shrugs.
“We understand, Lord Abbot. How long do you estimate it will take for your messenger to return with Brother Michael, or another member of his faculty?” Elena asks, reaching across to comfort her sister.
“I expect it may be at least a day, for it’s quite a way.” The abbot rises. “If there’s nothing more which I can do for your at this time, I’ll take care of that at once.”
Once outside the temple and wrapped up against the cold the two travel arm-in-arm back to the castle, escorted once more.
“Are you sure that this Brother Michael can help my Llewellyn?” Bronwyn’s face is twisted as she holds back her tears.
“I’m certain of it, dear sister. He really is the best in the land and has the most advanced healing techniques. He’s not just a member of the college, he’s the head tutor. I can assure you that no one knows more about healing.”
Elena clenches Bronwyn’s arm more tightly.
“Now, let’s take care in this snow. We don’t want to fall and become his new patients.”
Chapter 4
Sitting behind the main desk in the large castle offices, the Prince Regent still isn’t entirely comfortable. He tells himself he’s doing what must be done, but isn’t happy about filling his brother’s shoes.
“Come in, captain.” He motions to the man at the door.
“Shouldn’t you be keeping this closed, your grace?” The captain points at the open doorway.
“I tried it, John, it just felt big and empty. I find with it open I can cope with sitting here better.”
He pokes a pot of ink on the desk with his finger.
“If that’s what pleases you, sire.” The captain smiles. “I’m sure the guards can catch anyone who tries to run inside.”
“The chance would be a fine thing!” David laughs. “You’re the first person I’ve seen this afternoon and nobody’s telling me what’s going on.”
“Well, I think I can help there.” He approaches the desk. “I’ve spoken to the other guard commanders and to the healers.”
“Oh goodness. Where are my manners? Sit down, I’m sure you’ve been on your feet for hours.” Prince David sits upright.
“Only since dawn.” He arranges the chair in front of the desk. “We still have no sign of Mister Gracie. The guards have all been on alert and most of them know him by sight so I doubt he’ll slip by. We have to assume that he’s fled.”
“I still find it hard to believe that William’s involved in all this.” David lean
s forward, his elbow resting on the desk.
“I understand, but we have to stick with the facts, sire.” John sighs.
They hear a swish of cloth as Lady Elena appears in the doorway, dressed in one of her many elegant gowns.
They stand as she enters.
“Oh, captain. I hadn’t realised I was barging into a meeting.” She crosses to the desk, a serving girl behind her. “I was bringing refreshments for my husband and I to share. Should I go away?”
“Not at all, my sweet.” David’s smile smooths the lines of his forehead. “I don’t believe we’re discussing anything you haven’t already heard. Please, join us.”
She turns to the serving maid. “Be a dear and pop back to the kitchens for an extra cup for the captain.”
“I already have one, my lady.” The girl bobs a curtsy. “When you asked for a tray for the prince’s office I put four cups on it out of habit.”
“Oh yes, I forgot, you’ve served our dear brother for years.” Elena nods.
“Yes, my lady. I know how busy it gets here.” She sets the tray down on a side table by the bookcases. “Please, don’t mind me, I’ll pour the drinks.”
She curtsies again and turns to be about her business.
“I have just come from the healers, in our dear brothers chamber, they are doing all they can.”
Elena sits at the desk, waiting for the others to do likewise.
“Are they any closer to working out what ails him?” David leans forward to hold her hand.
“They assure me that everything seems normal, and they expect him to wake at any moment. Although, … No. Never mind.”
“Never mind what, Lady Elena?” The captain asks.
“Well, it’s probably nothing, but they said there was something strange about his mouth.”
“Strange in what way?”
“They found stains on his lips and tongue, as though he had berries or such.” Her shoulders rise and fall. “It may just be from something he ate at the tavern last night, I don’t know.”
The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan) Page 6