The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan)
Page 8
“Hold your fire lads and lower those crossbows a bit. We wouldn’t want to put anyone’s eye out now, would we?” He calls to his men as he waits for him to dismount.
“I’ll take it from here, Bob.” The captain moves towards the gate. “Keep them in position.”
He signals the knight to approach. They meet at the gate where the knight extends his hand in friendship.
“Marshal Commander Thomas Percey and a contingent of Temple Knights escorting brother Michael of Solace. I thought you were expecting us?”
“I regret to say, that it appears not.” John Yovvan replies, ignoring the gesture. “I’m afraid armed men turning up on the edge of our town usually engenders this kind of response, I hope you understand.”
The Marshal withdraws his hand. “We met a rider on the road, from the temple, seeking brother Michael at the Healing College in Aberffraw. Fortunately, we were headed this way on other business, so we simply increased our pace. I can assure you, we’re of no danger to you.”
“How many in your company, Commander?”
“I’ve got a score of knights, a waggon with the healer and driver, several squires and a couple of woodsmen. Probably around three dozen of us in total. I’m sorry, since you failed to introduce yourself I’ve no idea to whom I’m speaking.”
“My apologies, Commander. Captain John Yovvan, currently commanding the town and castle guard.” He now extends his hand. “I haven’t seen the Temple Knights recently in this area, I’m sure you can understand my surprise.”
The two men clasp, hand to wrist, in a warrior’s greeting.
“I’m sure you’d receive a similar greeting in another town, should you turn up in column and well armed.” Thomas Percey grins. “Now, we’ve had a long trek and the weather’s been quite inclement. Do you think we can get to the temple, stable the horses and warm up a bit. I understand you’re in need of our healer?”
“Indeed we are.” He turns to the men behind him. “Stand down. Escort these gentlemen to the temple and then return to barracks.”
“My thanks, captain.”
“Is this not rather a large contingent to escort a healer?” He waves his arm towards the column halted on the road.
“We had reports of bandits in the forests this winter, plying their ‘trade’ on the road from the city. Brother Michael is of great value to the temple and we take his safety seriously. I’m sure you can understand.”
The captain’s mind flicks to the image of their stricken prince lying in his chambers.
“I assure you, I most certainly can, commander.”
The abbot stands on the steps of the temple as the procession of Temple Knights enter and lead their horses to the stables.
He watches the imposing figure of the marshal approach, shaking the snow from his cloak and flicking it back over his shoulders to reveal the stylised symbol of the Chi-Rho mounted atop the horns of a bull that designates his order.
The Marshal stamps his feet at the bottom of the stairs, his chain mail armour rattling, then climbs the half-dozen steps to drop to his knee.
“My Lord Abbot.” He takes the abbot’s hand in his and kisses his ring of office.
The abbot motions for him to stand.
“We didn’t expect you to get here this quickly, marshal. In fact, I’d say it’s impossible for you to be here?” His eyebrows rise.
“We were already on our way when we met your messenger. Brother Michael had made arrangements to visit, I believe?”
The abbot looks puzzled.
“It seems those organising this neglected to tell me, but it’s good in any event as the prince lies injured and I’m certain that our best healer can make headway in curing his condition.”
“With your permission, Lord Abbot, my men and I would like to warm ourselves before we continue with our duties and escort the good brother to the castle.”
“Of course. Of course, bring them inside. There’s plenty of broth in the kitchens, I’ll have them served in the refectory. You must tell me the news from Aberffraw when you have time, commander, we hear so little from them.”
The marshal loosens the travel straps across his chest which keep a greatsword in place behind his shoulders and removes it, grasping the sheath in his left hand. “It will be my pleasure, Lord Abbot.”
In a secluded office, deep within the temple’s halls of residence, the marshal and Brother Michael of Solace meet with the Capo Borealis of their order.
“You understand what’s to be done, Soldier?”
“Yes, Venerable Ordo. Everything will be as you’ve requested.”
The Capo passes a small bottle to Brother Michael.
“One drop of this per day will keep him in the state in which you’ll find him. I don’t care what subterfuge you use, but ensure that he receives it.”
Both men kneel and kiss the ruby ring on the finger of the leader of the Order in the North and join the rest of their party in the refectory.
The steady stream of traders leaving the town area continues as dusk begins to fall and the former citizen, William Gracie, follows along for perhaps a mile with the merchant and his guards, chatting to them and offering them a sip from his hip flask as they travel. He takes his leave of them at the first crossroads and turns north.
Hearing a deep cawing croak from above, he guesses that a raven flies somewhere high up in the snowstorm, beating its wings and attempting to travel west, as he does.
“Good luck, little brother.” He calls up into the sky. “I hope you can see more of where you’re going than I can.”
Pulling his cloak in tightly, he continues along the road in the failing light until he crests the hill. The snowstorm abruptly eases off as he comes over the rise. The setting sun is almost touching the horizon as he taps his heels to the flank of the pony and begins to canter across the open moorland towards his destination.
“We’ll have to move it a bit, Apples. We haven’t got much time unless you want to stay out here until morning?”
His mount snorts, as though in agreement, and increases its pace westward, chasing the oncoming dusk as if it’s a race.
Within the hour, the knights are marching in formation, Brother Michael in their midst, to the castle. They’re met at the gate by Captain John Yovvan who halts their progress.
“I can’t allow you to enter, Marshal. Only the castle guard are allowed to bear arms inside its walls, for obvious reasons.”
“It’s our duty to ensure the safety of Brother Michael.” He turns to indicate the monk within the ranks of his men. “I don’t see how we can do that if we’re not allowed to accompany him.”
At that time, Lady Elena and Prince David arrive.
“Hello, John. We thought we’d pop out and see what all the fuss was about.” The guards all stand to attention and salute the prince.
“The healer’s come to see your brother, your grace, and these armed knights appear to be his escort. They’re requesting that they be allowed to accompany him but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why ever not?” Elena asks.
“Because I’m responsible for the safety of everyone inside the castle, my lady, and were I to allow groups of armed knights to wander around the place then I’d be neglecting my duty.”
“Do you mean to keep them standing outside whilst the healer attends to our dear brother?” She manages to look puzzled.
“I can see no other option, my lady.”
“I cannot, in good faith, allow Brother Michael to enter unattended by myself and my men, especially considering the recent attack. I believe you haven’t yet caught the culprits, so they could have access to the castle grounds, couldn’t they?” The Commander asks.
“Our investigations are progressing.” Prince David responds. “But the captain is correct in that the safety of the castle is his responsibility and I’ll not go against whatever he thinks is best.”
“Could the knights not store their large weapons somewhere in the guardhouse,
perhaps, and accompany the good brother?” Lady Elena leans in against her husband holding tightly to his arm in the cold weather.
“After all, most visitors to the castle are allowed to retain a knife, are they not?”
“I could allow them inside the grounds on those conditions.” The captain says, his face thoughtful. “Though, not within the prince’s chambers armed, in any way whatsoever.”
“That would be acceptable to me.” Thomas Percey turns and bows to David. “Assuming, that this idea is acceptable to you, your grace?”
“Of course. I’ve no issue with you providing an extra guard for the good brother here, as long as your men are on their best behaviour.” His stare leaves no room for argument.
“I shall ensure, sire, that they do exactly what they’re told, and nothing more.”
The marshal bows and orders his men to remove their great swords, long swords and shields ready to store them within the guardhouse.
The hill pony has sweat on its flanks by the time William arrives at his destination and dismounts.
Fully one third of the sun’s dark disc has dropped below the horizon and parts of the cloudy sky are taking on a reddish hue.
He walks forwards, reaching out to touch the nearest of the monoliths on the hilltop as he enters the circle. His fingers trace the pattern of the lichen upon its ancient surface, enjoying the gritty texture of the stone as he runs his hand around to stroke the mossy side.
Apples drops his head as though he doesn’t want to see what comes next, but otherwise follows his master without protest into the centre of the circle.
Two tall stones stand, capped by a third, forming a window to the land beyond which glistens pink with the earlier snowfall. The wind is bitingly cold but the clouds are clearing now allowing him a perfect view of the sunset far to the West.
Reaching inside his leather jerkin, he withdraws a strange bronze token.
It’s larger than any currency of Gwynedd. He holds it out on his palm watching the sunlight glint from it, enjoying the way it moves and the feel of it as he has for so many years.
Finally the sun is halfway below the horizon and it is time.
Holding the coin inside his fist, he thrusts it into the space created by the hilltop and the three stones as he speaks a word, a guttural sound from a language considered to be long dead and yet, at its utterance, something changes.
He feels it first through his boots.
It’s a crackling, a tension, an electrical energy rising from the earth and filling the stone frame. He throws back his hood and his hair flutters in an unseen wind, as do the mane and tail of his pony. He’s learnt to enjoy this sensation over time and is always amazed that no air blows as it happens.
As the sun dips slightly lower in a sky that will soon become dusk he watches the gateway. Waiting for the ripple that will disturb the picture of the landscape behind it to let him know that it’s time for his journey.
Seeing it change, he grips the reins of his steed tightly, having no desire to walk through the lands to which this portal leads.
Finally the shimmering stops and the gateway opens onto another hill and another sunset, in another land. He leads his pony and, after they’ve passed through, the picture is transformed into a sheet of quicksilver, which falls out of the air and strikes the ground between the pillars.
As it vaporises and disappears, the original view returns and the stones are just stones once more.
Moments later, a large raven lands, silhouetted atop the capstone and pecks at the moss.
Its head twitches from side to side as it regards first the gateway and then the surrounding hillside, an intelligent gleam in its eye.
Chapter 6
“I must return to the offices, my dear, Captain Yovvan’s ready to go through what they found.”
“May I accompany you, my dear?” Elena reaches out to touch his arm. “I still find it hard to believe that William was involved.”
“I am sorry, my love, but this is an affair of state and only those with official business should be there which, tonight, means myself, the guard captain and Mister Bracken.”
“The prince’s archivist?” She asks, genuinely puzzled. “Why will he be there?”
David laughs. “Aha! So there is something which my dear wife doesn’t know about the running of the castle.”
“What don’t I know? Why would a bookkeeper be involved in affairs of state?”
“I admit I’m as puzzled as you are, sweet Elena. I must away or I shall be late.”
She catches his arm. “Will the commander from the knights be there?”
“I don’t think so. This is a state matter, and he’s from the temple, why should he be there?”
“Because they’re a martial order, dear David, and they have their own information gathering and spies.” She leans in to kiss her husband’s cheek. “They might be useful to us. Since he’s going to be here anyway guarding the new healer, why not ask him to share what they know with us?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” He smiles and returns her kiss. “You see, I’m not good at this statesmanship. I’m sure the others will have no objection to his presence, I’ll send someone to fetch him. An extra pair of hands and eyes might come in useful.”
The guard captain and the archivist are already in the offices when Prince David arrives.
“My apologies, gentlemen, I was delayed. We’re not going to be discussing secrets here tonight are we?”
He moves around to the chair at the back of the desk.
“Why do you ask, your grace?” The archivist responds.
“I’ve asked the marshal to attend as we discuss this matter. I think he might be useful since he’ll have different contacts to us and perhaps eyes in other places, considering how many temples they have dotted around the island.”
The archivist nods slowly. “That’s a good point. I’m sure if we need to discuss any sensitive material we can always excuse him and do it afterwards, sire.”
“Excellent. He should be here presently.” David looks around the room, licking his lips. “Has anyone arranged some refreshments?”
“I didn’t feel the need for any, sire, it being so soon after the early evening repast.” The archivist replies.
“Oh yes. I keep forgetting you lot are used to all this business of governing a state and organising things and how an army marches on its stomach and whatever else it is people say.” David shrugs, grinning at the others. “I’m afraid I’m used to the softer pleasures in life, which seems to involve having drinks and oat cakes available at all times of the day.”
“I meant no slight, and I’m sure we can organise something, sire. There are still kitchen staff present.”
The archivist calls one of the guards over and mutters a few instructions to him.
Just as he has finishes the Knight Commander arrives.
“Your grace, captain, honoured council member. I thank you for inviting me.” He bows quickly from the waist. “As I expressed earlier, the safety of our healers is important to us as is that of your prince to you.”
“Naturally, marshal.” The archivist replies. “Perhaps, we can exchange some facts and ideas to help find the perpetrators of this foul act. To business.”
“With your permission, your grace.” The captain indicates that he’d like to clear a space on the desk.
The prince nods and they carefully move the papers and maps elsewhere, then lay out the items discovered earlier that day in the house of William Gracie.
“Is that my brother’s ring?” David leans forward, poking it with his finger.
“It seems to be so.” The archivist replies, examining it. “It bears your family crest and his seal here, below it. I have never handled the ring before, but I have seen this seal on many documents and am familiar with the impression it makes.”
“And what of this strip of paper that you found with it?”
“It doesn’t bode well, your grace. It seems to be in code, w
hich I’m hoping our good spymaster here can make some sense of.”
John passes the note to the archivist as David’s mouth gapes.
“Well, I guess my secret is out now.”
The archivist winks and laughs as he takes the piece of parchment into his hands and examines the markings upon it.
He places it on the desk and smooths it out looking at the way the marks are formed.
“It’s a cipher. A way of writing a secret message with seemingly meaningless marks upon a piece of parchment. Somewhere in the house, or about the person of the perpetrator, there will be a tube around which this is wrapped. Then the marks and letters will line up correctly to spell out the message when read along the pipe.”
“Did you find any such tube or pipe, captain?” The marshal enquires “Surely being able to read this would be advantageous.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t know that I was looking for one.” He looks down and bites his cheek. “I assumed the marks on the paper were made in a cryptic fashion that could be decoded by eye. I hadn’t considered the possibility of a device being used. What an ingenious system.”
“Actually, it’s quite crude and archaic.” The spymaster holds the paper up to the light. “It’s generally only used now by those who don’t have access to better methods, but it’s effective if your enemy has no tube of the correct diameter, to be sure.”
“I’m afraid I was as impressed as our dear captain, Mister Bracken.” David shakes his head. “I’ll have to depend on your superior knowledge in these matters as I’ve had no training in them.”
“So what do we suppose this note to be?” The marshal asks.
“My guess, and I wish to point out that at the moment it’s only a guess, would be that it is designed to accompany the ring as proof that the contract has been carried out. Assuming that contract to be the death of our prince, then I don’t understand why he didn’t take it with him.”
“But the prince isn’t dead.” The marshal frowns.