The voices droned on. They sounded more like sellswords than knights, caring only for coin. Justine knew knighthood was more than that: ‘twas a vow to guard the realm from foes, to protect king and country, to bring the unjust to judgment. This wanton slaughter was not judgment.
Justine put a hand out, stopping the others at the top of the stair. Pressing her ear to the door, the voices seemed to be arguing still. She dropped her torch and drew Resolution free from its sheath, and the other knights drew their own steel.
Putting her back against the door, she breathed deeply, and took in the faces of the nobles, traders, and her knights most of all. Though hidden in shadows and orange glowers, they were wrought with fear, confusion, and dread. The feeling was not unfamiliar to her, but strength and courage was needed now—the rest would sort itself out.
She barged through the door.
Three figures in plate stood in the centre of the tavern, with a score of city guards by the front door. Leaning against the bar to the right stood a broad, slender knight with long flowing blonde hair and a smooth, but hard face. Jeri, Justine thought, but I do not know the other two. The knight at the fore was of middling height, bald, but laughing hysterically. The other was big and broad, and though his head was down, his long brown locks shaded his face.
Jeri suddenly looked towards Justine, her eyes bulging. “You!”
“What?” the knight at the fore broke his laughter, pointing to himself. When Jeri did not answer, he shook his head and turned swiftly, drawing steel. “Lady Justine? Where is Ser Gerold?”
Justine expected the question but would not answer it. She stepped forward, allowing her knights and the band of nobles and traders to stand at the ready.
“Gared, that is a wasteful question,” the biggest of the knights said gruffly, calling over the guards who drew steel. “Seems that the young bitch betrayed her brothers.”
“This one, Doan?” Gared asked perplexingly. “Ser Gerold, dead by this one?”
“Her knights, you fool,” Jeri cut in sharply. “We will learn the truth when they are cut down.”
The sadistic knights did not wait for the guards. Justine flanked out her allies, and then threw herself at Gared. He met her stroke, smiling wickedly. She smiled too and watched as the knight’s grin faded, before knocking him off balance.
Gared swung his sword wildly, and Justine met every wayward glance. Two guards came upon her, and she met the blows, slicing through the mail and boiled leather of one, before drawing a dagger out and piercing the throat of another.
The unsmiling knight rose and swung at her from the left; Justine met his blow, raising their steel from the side, before kicking at his midsection, knocking him over. “Will you not smile for me, Ser Gared?”
“You did not make a jest,” the knight replied shaking his head as he stumbled to his feet. “Why would I laugh?”
“I did not—but your bumbling certainly is.”
Enraged, Gared put both hands on his steel, charged at Justine and swung wildly. She glanced the blows with the edge of her steel, gleefully toying with her foe.
“I will bury you for what you did to the captain,” he swore.
“And I will bury you for what your captain did.”
Gared lunged at her, but he overstepped, tumbled, and Justine pierced his neck while he lay prone on the floor.
A deafening wail filled the air, and the rolling head of Jeri nestled against Justine’s boot. Looking towards the bar, the headless body of the disgraced knight bubbled blood like a fountain, falling on top of a pile of corpses. Shocked faces frozen in death stared back at her, and she knew it was the brave traders and nobles who took up steel.
May you find rest in the Mother’s embrace, she intoned.
Ladies Amerie and Tricia looked to Justine with weak smiles, before helping two of the traders’ limp away.
“Think you have won?”
Doan was on his knees near the front door. Ser Marcus had his steel by the disgraced knight’s throat. Two guards still stood, but their hands were shaking, unsure of what to do.
“Your blood will stain this tavern,” Marcus declared, though tears stained his cheeks. “Much like the blood of the innocent that you spilt.”
“I kept to my oath—I cannot say the same for you, or the bitch you fight for.”
“You are not a knight, Doan,” Justine replied sharply. She did not care a whit for what this monster in flesh thought.
“You see this plate and mail? You see this pretty cloak?” Doan roared, but he did not turn his head to her. “You wear it, same as I do. Were you not sent her to slay this rabble? What makes you and I so different?”
Justine narrowed her eyes and knelt beside Marcus, meeting the glare of her fallen foe. “My orders were to apprehend the leaders and bring them to the king’s judgment.”
“Then the king will slay them.”
“After a trial, and—”
“Ser Gerold said you were naive.” He spit in her face, and Marcus pricked his skin, but she held his sword. “These insurgents usurp the king. Be it by your hand or mine, they would have fallen. You slew your brothers for naught.”
Justine wiped away the spit, stood, and looked down at the false knight. “Knights do not slaughter the innocent without trial.”
“Delusional bitch.”
Justine nodded her head, before watching the blood flow out of Doan.
The two guards dropped their steel and began to run, but they fell suddenly, arrows piercing their necks. Justine looked behind to Amerie and Tricia who tossed their bows aside.
“Ser Marcus,” Justine said, turning away from the false knight. “Call upon the others, but say to Father Curtis that none shall be buried.” She paused, locking her faithful knight in place. It was a hard command, but there were more foes within the city, and they would not wait. “Ensure that he understands.”
“Yes, Knight-Captain,” he replied before bounding off to the stairs.
Knight-Captain? Is that what I am, truly? she thought, scanning the tavern. Her eye caught a pile of broken tables, chairs, and a grimy, hairy face poked through the debris. It could have been any poor sot, but she knew it was the downtrodden man who smiled at her earlier in the evening. The man seemed simple enough, enjoying a drink while his betters schemed below. If that is what is expected of a knight-captain, I want naught to do with it.
She stepped towards the bar, looking above the pile of corpses. The skinny, morose bartender was slumped over, the sinews of his body barely holding together. They near cut him in half for sport. Sickening.
“Lady Justine!” Lord Theodore called out as he exited the stair, flanked by Father Curtis (who had his head down) and Irwin Kole. The others of the priesthood, nobles, and traders filed out solemnly, turning their faces from the bloodshed, huddling along the walls. The lord continued his near shouting as he walked nearer. “I am glad to see that you are well. What of our losses?”
“Too many,” she replied, slightly angered by the lord. “Of the ten who bore arms, only two survived. Three knights sworn to the king awaited us, and a score of city guards.” She turned to the priest who stood back a little distance, prodded on by Irwin. “We cannot bury the dead, Father.”
“Ser Marcus said as much,” Father Curtis intoned. “I will conduct a service when we depart on Irwin’s galleon.”
“Such a thing has never been done upon my ship!” Irwin declared, patting the priest on the back. “Yet it shall be done in these trying times, yes?”
How the trader found the nerve to be so jovial, Justine did not know. “Where is your ship docked?”
Irwin clapped his hands and stood perfectly straight. “Ah yes, it does come to this, though it is not any great secret, you see. My Gold Counter is moored at dock number eleven at the southernmost port. Not far from here, no?”
She cocked an eyebrow at the trader. “You named her Gold Counter?”
“It is what a man such as myself does,” he said with a full smil
e.
“The southern port is not far from where we stand,” Lord Theodore interjected. “It should be a simple venture.”
“Not so simple,” Justine said crossing her arms. It seemed far too easy, and that meant due caution. “If we cut east through the alleys, we would reach those docks in a matter of minutes, but I do not trust to the secrecy in that.” She pointed to the corpse of the hysterical knight, no more than a few feet from her. “That was Ser Gared. There were two other knights here as well, serving under Ser Gerold. Fourteen knights were sent here after my own, and they have all fallen. The king will have expected a report by now, and more city guards will certainly come. I do believe they shall expect us to flee by sea.”
“Shall we not go to the Gold Counter?” Lord Theodore pressed.
“I did not say that,” Justine countered, shaking her head. “We must split into bands and each take a different path. Whoever comes for us will not know how many remain. Each of you will be accompanied by two of my knights. If any are caught en route, they will reveal all the others are dead. We will wait upon the galleon for a short while, but we must think of all who still breathe.”
“Ah! You and I shall escape together, yes?” Irwin asked, leaning forward. “Such a beautiful escape it shall be.”
Justine pushed the repulsive trader back. “Sers Demetri and Brennon will join with you, dear trader, as you venture north and around, before passing through warehouses to the southern docks.”
Irwin looked aghast, though still offered slimy smile. “It shall be beautiful upon the sea, then.”
She ignored him. “Father Curtis, Lady Tricia and Ser Marcus shall be your guard—you will go south until you come near the gate, before turning east and weaving through alleys.”
“I shall trust to their swords,” the priest said solemnly.
“Lord Theodore, you shall accompany Lady Amerie and I. We will weave through alleys as we venture north, south, then eventually east. Moreover, the men and women must be divided, and not by standing; I will not lose all the traders, as desirable as that may be.”
“So hurtful of you to say my beautiful knight, but wisely decided, if I do say so myself,” Irwin boasted. “Come, Lord Theodore and Father Curtis, let us ready our departure—my Gold Counter awaits!”
Justine sighed as the men walked away, wondering what rife mess she had gotten herself into. Marcus’ return pushed such thoughts away, and she called her knights to explain the chosen course. Skepticism belied their faces, but they consented all the same.
The knights departed to divide the people, and Justine leaned against the bar, watching and waiting. Before long, Tricia and Marcus peered out the tavern windows, and when they thought it safe, called out to Father Curtis and his band. They slipped out silently into the night.
“Five minutes,” Justine said to Brennon. “Do keep your eye on the trader.” The knight bobbed his head and closeted with Demetri.
Hardly a moment seemed to pass when Lord Theodore approached the bar and nestled up beside her, as if she was a patron and there was not the stench of corpses wafting through the tavern. “If I may have a moment, Lady Justine.”
She sighed. “We must wait, so I shall give you that.”
“You must forgive me for consorting with Irwin, he …” The lord looked to his left, as if checking to see that the trader was occupied. “He is an uncouth fellow, but without him, we certainly would not have learned what we did. Even the most cynical of us are fickle without proof.”
“Is that what convinced you, my lord?” She cared not a whit, but Lord Theodore would likely not be dissuaded by silence.
“I know King Adrian better than most. He has learned the lessons of history well. I dared not act against him, even with a hidden voice, lest I was certain of his intent—and if we stood a chance.”
To Justine, every high-born noble was the same, and this Lord Theodore Rusels seemed no different. “More the latter than the former?”
“Fools do not rule House Rusels, Lady Justine.”
“If not for my own indiscretions, my lord, there would no longer be a House Rusels. You are not as wise as you make yourself out to be.”
“That is so,” the lord admitted, folding his arms. “That is why we need strength. Your strength.”
“You have it on this night.” Justine sighed. “I will make my choice when we are free from this.”
“Could I not persuade you to join with us?”
Justine did not answer, and instead looked to her remaining knights: they stood alert, smiled when they had to, but a heaviness weighed upon them. Then she looked to the men and women who remained. Some had meagre strength left, but others were near cowering, needing help to simply stand.
“This is madness, my lord,” she said after a time. “I swore an oath before my king, blessed by the Mother. It meant more to me than I could describe, and yet within hours after dusk, it all shattered. I know now that knighthood—Trechtian knighthood under King Adrian—is naught more than an illusion.
“Yet I see clearly that the king’s subjects are frightened, scared, and I will see them safely from our tyrant king. Beyond that, I give you no assurances. I will decide my own fate, and no others.”
Lord Theodore made to answer, but Brennon approached her. “It is time, and we have made ready to flee.”
“May the Mother be with you, Ser Brennon.”
The knight inclined his head and went with Demetri to the tavern windows. Justine watched as Irwin Kole walked past, leading his own band, smiling widely. When they spilled out into the dead of night, she felt a great weight was lifted from her.
She turned to Lord Theodore. “See that the others are made ready.” Then walked away towards the windows without waiting for a reply.
The night was interminably still and silent as she kneeled before the tall, wide windows. Not even flickering shadows, she thought, turning away from the street outside. It is not this simple. It cannot be.
“The wrongness does not fade,” Amerie said quietly as she knelt at the other side of the door. “The king will not let us flee.”
The truth of those words stung. Too many lay slain, and once King Adrian learned of it, his wrath would be terrible. “It may be so, but we will fall as knights.”
“I did not think the night would go this way when I awoke—did you?”
No was too simple of an answer. “I trust Lord Arthur. That has not changed. I knew of our mandate before this morning, Amerie. If we do see him before the end, I will have many questions—few of which he will like.”
The faithful knight smiled briefly. “Will you answer one of mine?”
Justine slumped against the wall, looking towards Lord Theodore. He seemed to be raising the spirits of every man and woman. It would not be long before they had to go. “Quickly, my friend.”
“Why did you doom us?”
A war hammer to the chest would have hurt less. Justine turned to the knight, frowning. “You would ask that of me?”
“We have slain fourteen of our sworn brothers and sisters. Perhaps more before the night is over, and mayhap our own life’s blood will soak the streets. I know you are choosing to do what you feel you must, but what can we do when slain? I would live with the injustice, the weight on my conscience, because I would still breathe to do so.”
The thought had not occurred to Justine, but even so, it was untenable. “I could not watch it so. That is why I made my choice.”
Amerie stood and peered out the window. “Lord Theodore has made ready.”
The lord walked forth, but Justine held her hand out, halting him. Then she peered out the window, and the stillness had not changed. “We go,” she announced, bursting through the door.
Darkness stretched across her sight, broken only by near guttered lamp lights that seemed so far away. Justine trusted her instincts as she ran to the other side of the mud-slicked road, towards a wide stone building. She paused and waved over the band. They passed through silently and quickly
, though some slumped their shoulders noticeably.
If any fell behind, they made their own choice.
She pushed to the right, around the swath of the building and weaved in and out through twisting alleys, pushing northward. The stillness was broken only by fleeting footfalls. She remembered that so close the port that the widened structures were likely storehouses for goods, but it remained unsettling.
“It is too quiet,” Amerie whispered when Justine called for a brief halt. “They are waiting for us.”
That Justine did not doubt. “If that is our fate, it is unavoidable.” Then much louder, “Come on!”
She sprang eastwards and saw the edge of docks in the distance. Halting, she pointed southwards before continuing. Storehouses rose upon the right, but leftwards there were only crates, barrels, and the port beyond. She crouched down, leading slowly, and the night remained still.
Then plate footfalls broke the stillness.
Justine pushed herself against the wall of the storehouse, hoping that she remained in the shadows. Peering to her right, two city guards—not knights, she was sure—passed by with wayward glances, though they did not slow, not even for a fleeting moment.
A few of the men and women whispered, but a quick glance silenced them. Lord Theodore crept towards Justine, but she cut off his speech before he said a word. “We wait, and then we will see.”
Once enough time had passed, Justine sent Amerie to look ahead down the path. Most of the band kneeled, while others sat in the mud, uncaring what it did to their clothes. Lord Theodore, to her surprise, stood steadfast and quiet.
Time seemed to stretch on. Justine felt no relief as the stillness reigned. It could mean there was no further guards, or that they had taken Amerie by surprise.
Either way, Justine waited.
“Come!” came a whispered cry from a distance. Justine knew it was the knight, and she beckoned the band to walk the cobbled road eastward, towards the port.
The road to the docks looked clear, save for Amerie with sword drawn looking to and fro. The band pushed forward suddenly, and she saw the Gold Counter in the distance: impressively tall with four large masts and three decks. No other vessel dwarfed it, but the gangplank was down.
The Prelude to Darkness Page 7