The Bastard 2

by Jack Porter

  “And your pet rat dragon can stay as well,” he continued. “It’s not like he eats much, or anything. And it’s been quite noticeable that the number of rats has gone down since you’ve been here.” But then his expression turned to worry. “But Rolf? How could we explain that, if they were to find him? He is chained to the central pillar. Kind of hard to believe that Ember and me didn’t know he was there. You know?”

  I nodded slowly.

  Jacob was right. If the Blackcoats had started checking door to door, then it was only a matter of time before they checked the Goose and Quill.

  “I understand,” I said. “I’ll find somewhere else to put him. Either that, or I’ll chain him to a rock and chuck him in the river.” I watched as Jacob’s expression become one of shock and lightened my response with a smile. “Maybe give me a day or so to figure out where to put him?”

  I could read the big man clearly. He wanted Rolf gone from his cellar, that much was clear. But he didn’t want to be the reason for the Blackcoat’s execution.

  Jacob was a big man. As big as Durstan had been, and physically powerful as well. But he had a marshmallow where his heart should have been, even when it came to people like Rolf.

  Not that this was a bad thing. It was something I admired about the man, and knew that my own marshmallow heart had grown a layer of armor some time before, and that armor had only grown stronger when I embarked on my mission of revenge.

  Even so, I didn’t correct Jacob’s thought process. I was more than happy to move Rolf but couldn’t see a way of doing so right away.

  I needed the day I’d asked for.

  “Of course,” Big Jacob said. “I didn’t mean right away. I just meant… As soon as you can.”

  I gave Jacob a nod and promised to do my best. The big man wandered away, and I turned back to my meal.

  14

  I still hadn’t come up with a viable alternative for storing Rolf.

  I went through all the possible options in my mind, discarding each one. None of the other taverns and outhouses I frequented would be any better than the Goose and Quill. If the Blackcoats were going to randomly show up here, they would show up elsewhere as well. Meghan’s place was out. It was too far away, too small, and while I was pretty sure Meghan could look after herself even against someone like Rolf, I couldn’t see why she should have to.

  The best idea I’d come up with so far was the system of tunnels beneath the city of Camelot itself. Not the dungeons beneath the castle or the set of caves that had been turned into the city’s jail. There were other caves, not linked to the main systems, that I’d heard of, and in fact had even explored in my youth.

  Some of the homeless people used them for shelter. I would have to avoid those caves. But surely there were others I could make use of.

  It’d be perfect if there was one with an ancient, forgotten hook fixed to the wall, to which I could chain Rolf and have no chance of the Blackcoats ever finding him.

  Perhaps, if the cave I found was big enough, I could stay there as well, at least until Jacob or Ember gave the all clear.

  Either way, I was still wondering how I might go about finding such a place when the tavern door opened and someone I hadn’t expected to see there wandered in.

  It was Elaine, Lady Emmeline’s other prized student. She was dressed as she had been before, in practical leathers with her sword at her side, and she seemed even more beautiful than she had the last time I’d seen her. Instead of walking up to the bar and ordering a plate of food or an ale – or even a hot cocoa drink – she spent a good few moments looking about, her eyes fixing on everyone in turn.

  She was looking for someone. I knew it, just as I knew whom she hunted. I had chosen my table with care. It was in the darkest part of the room, and I still wore my hood. The shadows conspired to make it difficult for anyone to see me clearly, especially as the coat I was wearing was nearly as dark as the ones the Blackcoats took for their name.

  Elaine’s eyes passed over me as if I wasn’t there, and for a moment, I considered letting her think I didn’t exist. But that moment passed quickly. In the shadows, I lowered my hood, and that movement was enough to attract her attention. She looked at me, and that was enough. She didn’t smile, not exactly, but I saw the recognition in her eye, and without any hesitation, she wandered over to stand behind the seat Jacob had recently vacated.

  For a moment, we studied each another. I smiled broadly. And while the expression seemed a little foreign to her, to me it came more naturally. It was just part of who I was.

  “I knew you would turn up at some point,” I said, gesturing to the seat in front of me. “Although, I have to admit, you made me wait longer than I expected. Take a seat.”

  The beautiful woman settled herself down with a poise and grace that I found very appealing. She continued to study me all the while, her gaze slipping away from my own only to look at Sir George for a moment. At the sight of my tame rat dragon, she seemed slightly uncertain, but quickly dismissed him from her thoughts and turned her attention back to me.

  For his part, Sir George seemed largely okay with the woman’s presence. He had shown an active dislike to the odd person in the past, and mostly, his instincts proved true. But with Elaine, my rat dragon blew a single, warning puff of smoke, then promptly ignored her.

  “You remember me, then?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I said. Then I smiled. “Lady Emmeline’s second favorite student.”

  She arched her left eyebrow just enough to show that she had caught the teasing behind my remark, but otherwise didn’t react. “Yes,” she said. “I had thought to run into you at her place again, given that our training sessions follow one another.”

  I had sent word to the swordsmistress that I wouldn’t be able to attend our sessions for a little while. I could skulk about in the dark well enough and stay hidden, but in broad daylight? It didn’t seem to be a risk worth taking, despite that I missed our regular sessions.

  “And you clearly remember me as well,” I said. “But that isn’t to say that you know who I am.”

  It was another challenge, but of a completely different sort. This time, Elaine caught my meaning and replied just as directly. “I do,” she said. “That’s why I am here.”

  It was my turn to study her closely. Her words could have been a threat, or they could have been innocent.

  In a way, I had played this conversation out many times over the past few days. In most cases, I’d known in advance where I had stood. But Elaine was a virtual stranger.

  I leaned back in my chair. “So, am I to expect a company of Blackcoats coming to drag me away? Or what?”

  This time, she did allow herself the smallest hint of a smile. But instead of answering directly, she took a different direction.

  “I’m going to tell you a story,” she said. “And when I’m done, you will understand that I would never call you out to the Blackcoats.”

  I had to admit the woman was intriguing, so I indicated that she should continue.

  “You might recognize some of the story. But I would like you to listen regardless. There are things about it that you won’t know.”

  It was her turn to sit back in her chair. I was reminded of the last time I’d had an unexpected meeting like this in the Goose and Quill. The old man, Rolf’s spymaster, had sat back in his chair in much the same way that Elaine did just then. The congruence was puzzling, and I found myself briefly frowning. Then I pushed the thought to one side and listened to what Elaine was saying.

  15

  “You have heard of King Arthur’s knights.” It wasn’t a question. “Lancelot was the greatest of them, and one of only a few that still live. Another was a man named Galahad, whose sole desire had nothing to do with Camelot or being a knight in any real sense at all. His one true ambition, his driving desire, was to find the Holy Grail.”

  I nodded. As Elaine had said, I knew the story. But I didn’t interrupt.

  “For years Ar
thur promised to help him, as long as Galahad helped the new King establish himself in Camelot. Time passed, and Galahad did his job well. Where Lancelot proved indomitable with his sword, Galahad’s true talents lay elsewhere. It was through his efforts that the King learned of plots before they could come to fruition, and he dealt with them harshly.”

  This was also largely the same story I had heard before, although I had always been somewhat unclear as to what Galahad’s role had actually been.

  “Of course, the young king rewarded Galahad as he rewarded the others. Naming him one of his knights. And, for a while, Galahad was content. In his mind and heart, he believed King Arthur would be a good King, and that the harshness with which he dealt with his foes was justified. But then, when all of King Arthur’s enemies within Camelot were gone, Sir Galahad once again approached King Arthur about his ongoing desire to find the Grail.”

  Elaine paused in her story, not because she didn’t know what to say next, but more because she apparently wanted to make sure she got it exactly right.

  “But the King wasn’t done with Galahad’s skills. He convinced the man to stay on, to help him learn all he could about his kingdom, ostensibly to help him be a better ruler. And with such a noble cause to look to, Galahad acquiesced. He did his work, feeding the King all the information he could, and at first, it seemed the King was true to his word.”

  At this point, Elaine fixed me with a gaze full of hatred. Real hatred. Not for me, but for the man in her story. For King Arthur.

  The intensity of that hate surprised me. I knew that King Arthur wasn’t universally liked. Knew that in some quarters, he was actively despised. Even I had my reasons to hate him. But I couldn’t figure out why Elaine could carry such strong feelings around with her.

  “Then things started to change. The King started using the information Galahad provided not for the benefit of Camelot as a whole, but for his own personal benefit. You might think that as the King, he had every right to do so. But Galahad saw it differently. The King cared more about lining his own pockets than he did about the people he ruled, and that was as far from what Galahad had agreed to as it was possible to get.

  “It came to a crunch when Galahad brought the King word that the poorest of Camelot’s people, those who live outside the walls to the south of the river, were voicing discontent.”

  Elaine shrugged her shoulders, just a little. “They were starving,” she said. “Of course they were unhappy. But even then, Galahad hadn’t given up on his King. He thought he would use the information to get to the bottom of the problem, to ensure they could access the food that they needed.

  “But by then, King Arthur had changed much from the young man Galahad had known. Merlin had filled his mind with visions of power, and gifted him the enchanted weapon Excalibur. And he was already talking about the blood in his veins, of how it might be possible to awaken the dragon within. By then, Arthur had grown beyond caring for those who lived in his city. He had become callous, more interested in his own desires than the needs of his people.”

  Elaine’s eyes flashed with the fire of hatred. She drew a deep breath and continued. “I’m sure you heard the stories. How Lancelot led a perfect handful of his men to the part of the city in question. He rode at the head of his hand-picked army, and instead of helping the poor folk as Galahad had intended, Sir Lancelot began slaughtering everyone they could find. Those who could run or hide did so. But there were dozens, maybe even hundreds who died on that day, cut down by Lancelot and his men on his own King’s orders.”

  Elaine couldn’t suppress a shudder. Yet despite how awful the story had turned, she kept going to the end.

  “They say the screams of the dying could be heard throughout the whole city, along with the laughter of Lancelot as he slaughtered them.”

  She paused once again, this time to swallow, to regain control over her emotions. “Galahad, feeling disgusted, renounced his knighthood on the spot and went into hiding.”

  I found myself nodding. It was the story I had heard before, but told with a peculiar passion that I didn’t quite understand. The events of the story had all happened a couple of years before I had been born. Before Elaine had been born as well, unless she was older than she looked.

  “I know the story,” I said. “But I’m not yet sure why you are telling it to me.”

  “Because there’s more to it,” she said. “Galahad never went to seek the Holy Grail on his own. You see, not long before he renounced his knighthood, he met a lowborn woman whom he married. She died in childbirth, which left Galahad a choice he couldn’t make. If he was to seek out the Grail, he would effectively have to abandon his newborn daughter to do so. He couldn’t do it, instead raising her to look out for herself in a cruel world. And he did what he could to keep his daughter’s existence a secret from anyone connected to King Arthur or his court.”

  Elaine was correct. This was part of the story I didn’t know. I’d thought Galahad must have vanished, must have wandered off into the world to live out his life on his own terms.

  For a moment, I found myself wondering how Elaine could know this part of the story, but before I could ask her, the penny dropped.

  I stared at her. “Who are you?” I asked, even though I’d already figured out the answer.

  “My name is Elaine. I was named after my grandmother. But that’s not what you’re asking. You want to know how this story relates to me.”

  I nodded.

  “I think you’ve already guessed it. Galahad is my father. I am the child he wouldn’t abandon.”

  All sorts of pieces were falling into place. The implications… Elaine had said that when her story was done, I would know that she would never betray my existence to Lancelot.

  I thought I understood. To her, this wasn’t a story. It was her history.

  She had reason to hate King Arthur and Lancelot both.

  But I thought there was something more. Something she hadn’t yet said.

  And, all of a sudden, I thought I knew what it was. I didn’t know how to feel. My stomach tied itself into knots, and I felt a sheen of sweat form on my forehead. Sir Galahad hadn’t been the same sort of knight Lancelot had been. His gift was different. His gift was finding out information.

  “Your father,” I began, my mouth suddenly dry. “Galahad. Where is he now?”

  At this, Elaine didn’t smile, didn’t show much of what she was feeling. She simply nodded, as if acknowledging that I had figured out the puzzle.

  “You have met him. For the past several years, he has been working as Royal Spymaster, ostensibly helping the King, but in reality keeping his eye on the game, biding his time and waiting for the right opportunity to come along.”

  Suddenly, I was on guard. Without conscious volition, my hand had gripped the hilt of one of my daggers. But I didn’t draw it. Instead, I found myself leaning forward over the table, my teeth tightly clenched as I looked at the spymaster’s daughter.

  I wanted to know if the only reason she had turned up at the Goose and Quill was to press her father’s case. If so, she would be sadly disappointed.

  Instead, I asked a different question. “If he hates Lancelot so much, and the King as well, why did he tell them about me?” I demanded.

  Elaine wasn’t taken aback by my quiet vehemence. Instead, she seemed to expect it. As before, she simply explained.

  “He thought to force your hand. With your identity known, the King will go after you. You will have no choice but to defend yourself. He thought you would choose to align yourself with him, to agree to become part of his plan, as the only real option you have left.”

  16

  A million different thoughts all vied for my attention at once. Galahad had been working against King Arthur since before I was born. In a strange way, it gave a certain credibility to his offer, if you could call it that, to use me in aid of that goal.

  But more than that, the fact that he would use the biggest secret of my existence to try to man
ipulate me irked me to no end. Even if I had been wavering, if I had been thinking about his offer, there was no way I would be joining him now.

  Because it told me in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t be trusted.

  The spymaster – Galahad – was just like Rolf in that regard. Willing to do whatever it took to achieve his own aim, regardless of the impact his actions had on those around him.

  I wasn’t exactly near the front of the line where they were handing out halos. I knew that. I had conned, cheated, and stolen too much, from too many people. And if I didn’t really think they deserved to be hanged, then perhaps I wouldn’t have been so quick to complain if the Blackcoats had removed one of my hands. As the price for the things I had done.

  But, just as I had rebelled at the thought of doing any more to Anwen than holding her for ransom, the thought of doing as Galahad had done to me was abhorrent.

  I found I was angrier than I had been even when I had argued with the man himself, just a few days ago. If he had been sitting there in front of me instead of his daughter, I would have punched him right in the nose, and perhaps even worse.

  But even that wasn’t the limit of my thought processes.

  The woman in front of me was Galahad’s daughter.

  “Why are you here?” I asked her flatly.

  She seemed surprised by the question. “I’m here because you asked me–” she began, but I cut her off.

  “Your father is trying to manipulate me into working against the King!” I snapped. “Are you here for the same reason? Are you here to talk in his stead?”