by A. J. Lake
‘This is Guardians’ business, not yours. You’ve no call to come here.’
‘And I say I have.’ The second voice was deep and rather hoarse; it sounded familiar to Edmund and he tried to recall where he had heard it before. ‘My men have been hunting the villains as well as yours, and I was a king’s man when you and your Guardians were herding your mother’s geese! If these two have threatened the king, it’s my right to see them.’
There was a scraping noise as a cover was drawn back from a spyhole in the door. When the deep voice spoke again it was indignant. ‘It’s just a pair of boys!’
‘I can’t help that, Captain Cathbar,’ said the other man, sounding defensive. ‘Lord Orgrim says they’re murderers. One of them had a sword. I can’t let you go in there!’
‘Try to stop me, lad. You’ll rue your actions, I can promise you that.’
The heavy door was flung open and Cathbar shouldered his way in, holding a torch in one hand while with the other he slammed the door shut behind him. Outside, Edmund heard the Guardian hurrying away.
‘He’ll be back in a while with a few more of them,’ Cathbar said. Edmund recognised him at once; it was the man who had been searching for them by the lake on the day they crossed into Wessex. In the light of the torch his face was lined and tough-looking, with deep-set eyes staring coolly at Edmund.
‘And then they’ll throw me out,’ the captain continued, ‘but not before I’ve had a word with you. You’re not what I expected, see.’
‘I’ll talk to you,’ Edmund said carefully. From the conversation he had just overheard, this man was not one of the Guardians, though that didn’t mean he could trust him. ‘I’ll ask your help first. My companion’s hurt.’
‘I’m all right,’ Elspeth said faintly behind him. Relief swept over Edmund as she stirred. The chains clanked and she hissed through her teeth with pain. ‘My head!’
Cathbar crossed to her in one stride, studying her face in the torchlight. ‘You neither of you have the look of desperate assassins,’ he said. ‘They say you came into the town with weapons and attacked the Guardians.’ He looked Edmund square in the face. ‘Will you tell me if they’re right, and why you came here?’
‘No,’ Edmund said steadily. ‘Not until you tell us what the Guardians mean to do with us.’
The man sighed. ‘As to that, lad, I can’t tell any more than you. I’m one of the king’s men, not a Guardian. But I have heard that Lord Orgrim has called a trial tomorrow in the Rede House – that’s the great stone building in the square, where the king and council meet. It’s my guess that the trial’s to be yours, and the charge will be conspiracy against the king.’
There was a silence. Edmund felt his spine turn to ice. Against his back Elspeth was suddenly rigid.
‘I’ll not lie to you,’ Cathbar went on. ‘Innocent or guilty, there’s little enough I can do for you. But if you came to Venta for some good reason, tell me, and I’ll see that the court hears of it.’
‘We’re not here for any reason,’ Edmund said dully. ‘We were walking east to go home, that’s all.’
‘And I insisted we came into the town for nothing more than curiosity,’ Elspeth put in bitterly. ‘I should have listened to Aagard. He said we should beware of Venta.’
Cathbar was very still. ‘What name did you say?’
‘Aagard,’ Edmund repeated cautiously. ‘He’s an old man who helped us when our ship was wrecked.’
‘Tell me, what was he like?’ The captain’s voice held an edge of excitement. Half to himself, he muttered, ‘There cannot be two of that name, surely?’
‘Tall, with a white beard and very dark eyes,’ said Edmund. ‘He’s a scholar and a healer. He said he had once been in the King’s Rede, and he had a red robe –’
‘I saw him in it, many times,’ Cathbar interrupted, ‘though his beard was barely streaked with grey when I knew him.’ He looked sharply at Edmund. ‘Where did you leave him? Is he well?’
Edmund gave the captain a brief account of the start of their journey, not mentioning the dragon or his vision.
‘Aagard heard that a village we had passed through was attacked by soldiers,’ he said. ‘He went back to help them, and we travelled on.’
Cathbar was silent for a while. ‘I believe you,’ he said at length. He lowered his voice. ‘Did Aagard tell you why he left Wessex?’ He must have seen the answer in Edmund’s face. ‘It was a black day when Orgrim accused six of the King’s Rede of treachery. I knew Aagard would never plot against his lord.’ His voice so soft now that Edmund could hardly hear him. ‘I was one of the men sent to arrest Aagard and Thrimgar. I let them escape and told the king they’d already fled.’
‘What happened to the others of the Rede?’ Edmund asked. ‘Did they escape too?’
Cathbar grimaced. ‘Hanged, every last one of them.’ He stared into the distance for a moment, then straightened up and turned back to Edmund and Elspeth. ‘Orgrim’s hanged too many good men. And now to bring a couple of boys to trial … No. The king has to see reason this time.’
Looking at the man’s grim face, Edmund came to a decision. ‘You know I’m unarmed,’ he said. ‘Would you free my hands? There’s something I’d like to show you.’
Cathbar looked into his eyes, then drew his knife and cut the rope around Edmund’s wrists. Edmund reached into the folds of his cloak for his name-clasp.
‘We would never plot against your king,’ he said. He held the silver bird out to Cathbar. ‘My father is King Heored of Sussex, and a friend of King Beotrich. If you would give this to the king, I think he’ll hear our side of the story.’
For an instant Cathbar stared as if thunderstruck. But he recovered quickly, stepping back and shaking his head.
‘Put your jewel away – yes, I know it, and if you’ve the sense your father has, you won’t offer it again to a man you’ve only just met, even if he does wish you well.’ He looked around him, then came close to Edmund and spoke quietly. ‘I’ll carry your message to the king. Perhaps even Orgrim would think twice before offending your father’s kingdom. But make no mistake, it’s he who has the king’s ear now, and no one else. Don’t be too hopeful.’
Footsteps and angry voices were approaching outside. Cathbar turned and left without another word, bolting the door behind him with a clang. Edmund thrust the silver clasp back inside his clothes, wound the rope around his wrists as well as he could and slumped against Elspeth.
‘Captain Cathbar!’
Edmund shuddered. It was the voice of the horseman who had struck Elspeth to the ground last night.
‘You disobeyed my direct orders.’
‘That I did,’ Cathbar agreed readily. ‘After chasing these spies all over the kingdom, I felt it was my right to go in and talk to them.’
‘I see.’ The Guardian’s voice was thoughtful. ‘And what did they tell you?’
Edmund went cold. He had trusted Cathbar with the secret of his identity! Was the man going to betray them?
‘They told me nothing about anything.’ Cathbar’s voice was scornful. ‘It looks to me like you have the wrong pair. It’s nothing but a couple of half-grown boys!’
Weak with relief, Edmund heard him walking away. Heavy footsteps came up to the cell door. Edmund stayed very still as someone uncovered the spyhole. They were presumably satisfied by what they saw, for no one else came into the cell, and after a time the footsteps moved away.
‘How is your head?’ Edmund whispered to Elspeth.
‘Better, I think.’
Edmund busied himself with trying to loosen the rope around their waists, and after a while they were able to move a little. They dragged themselves to the edge of the cell and leant side by side against the wall. Watery moonlight filtered into the cell through chinks in the logs and under the door, but there was nothing to see, neither bedding nor chair.
Elspeth would not look at him and, stealing a glance at her, Edmund saw that her face was twisted with misery.
&nb
sp; ‘This is all my fault,’ she murmured. ‘I would come here, even when you warned me not to. I’m sorry, Edmund!’
‘I wanted to come too,’ he told her. ‘And my father really is a friend of King Beotrich. If that captain passes on the message, we’ll be in no danger.’
He had spoken with more confidence than he felt, but it seemed to cheer Elspeth. ‘The captain believed you, didn’t he?’ she said. ‘And he said he was the one who freed Aagard. I think he’ll keep his word.’
‘Unlike Cluaran,’ Edmund said bitterly. ‘You saved him, and he deserted us!’
‘Aagard did tell us not to trust him,’ Elspeth reminded him.
‘He didn’t say he’d betray us!’ Edmund could not keep the thought to himself any longer. ‘Elspeth – suppose he knew we’d follow him? This could have been a trap!’
‘No!’ Elspeth’s face was set. ‘It was the sword that gave away who we were – it appeared without being called. Cluaran couldn’t have known it would do that.’ Her voice faltered. ‘Could he?’
Elspeth was awake at first light when the Guardians came for them. She had hardly slept. Her arms were painfully cramped in the manacles, and her thoughts had given her no rest. Cluaran may have abandoned them, but wasn’t it the sword that had betrayed them to the ones who had been searching for them all the way from Dunmonia?
The door burst open. Two dark-robed figures grabbed her chained arms and yanked Elspeth to her feet, untying her enough that she could walk. Behind her, Edmund was receiving the same treatment.
‘Mind your clumsy hands!’ came his voice, clear, loud and indignant, and Elspeth smiled. He won’t be cowed by a row of judges, she thought.
They were taken outside and led to the pillared building on the far side of the square. It was as high as a church inside, stone-built and echoing, with pillars along each of the two long walls. Edmund and Elspeth were marched between them, past empty benches to a platform at the far end on which sat seven men on great carved chairs. The Guardians pushed Edmund and Elspeth down to kneel on the floor.
For a moment the men on the platform looked at them in silence – and with some surprise, Elspeth thought. Then the man in the centre rose to his feet. He looked only a little older than Elspeth’s father, with smooth yellow hair falling to his shoulders and a face that was pale, as if he rarely went into the sun. He wore a thin gold band across his forehead, and his robes were fastened with a brooch in the shape of a sword. At the sight of him, Edmund lifted his head and made to rise, but the Guardian behind him pushed him down so heavily that he sprawled forwards on his face.
This must be King Beotrich, thought Elspeth. The most powerful man in the southern kingdoms.
‘Where is Orgrim?’ the king demanded. He peered down at Elspeth and Edmund, then called down the hall again. ‘Where is my chief counsellor? Are these the two spies I was told of?’
There was a stir at the back of the hall, followed by measured, heavy footsteps. As Elspeth twisted her head to try to see, she felt her right hand begin to burn beneath the skin. She shut her eyes and willed the sword to be still. With her hands bound, there was nothing she could do if it sprang to life – and she could not risk Orgrim knowing his prize was so close. If it came when she summoned it, surely she could tell it to stay hidden?
The newcomer walked slowly by them. Elspeth could see only a tall figure wearing the red robe of the king’s counsellors. A fur-lined hood hid his face. He stood beside them, facing the council, and when he spoke, his cold, clear tones jolted Elspeth back to the lake in the forest, where they had hidden from the soldiers. This was the man who had been hunting for them across three kingdoms. This was Orgrim.
‘My lords, these two prisoners were caught trying to enter the king’s hall with a weapon. Their companion escaped and is being hunted by the Guardians. I have ordered a double guard around the king and council until he is caught.’
There was a buzz of agitated conversation on the platform. Beotrich frowned, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the carved wooden arms of his chair.
‘Once again you show your care for my safety, Orgrim, and I am grateful. But what is this plot against us? We are at peace with all our neighbours, are we not?’
‘Indeed we are, my lord,’ Orgrim agreed. ‘But I have discovered that the traitor Aagard is still alive and plotting against you. These two spies,’ he gestured towards Elspeth and Edmund, ‘were seen travelling with him.’
Raised voices sounded at the back of the hall.
‘And I tell you I must be heard now!’ It was Cathbar, roaring over the men who were trying to stop him. Elspeth saw the king flinch as the captain strode down the hall and stopped next to Edmund. ‘Your pardon, my lord,’ he said breathlessly, ‘but this won’t wait. These tales of spies and plots may be true for all I know, but these two have no part in them.’ He laid a hand on Edmund’s shoulder. ‘This lad here is the son of your old friend Heored of Sussex. He’s shown me the proof. I beg you at least to hear his story – you’d not condemn a king’s son without hearing evidence on his side?’
Before the king could say anything, Edmund jumped up, his eyes blazing. They had bound his hands again, but he fumbled at his throat and brought out the silver bird, holding it up two-handed.
‘It’s the truth,’ he said. ‘I am Edmund of Sussex, and I pledge my father’s friendship and my own to King Beotrich.’
Cathbar started forward as if to say something else, but Orgrim made a tiny gesture with his hand and two Guardians stepped forward, daggers drawn, to hold the captain where he was.
The king stood up and came to the edge of the platform to look more closely at Edmund.
‘He does have a look of Heored,’ he mused. ‘Orgrim, perhaps there has been some mistake –’
‘No!’ Cruel fury flashed through his words. ‘Remember, my lord, I can see through people’s eyes, know what they’re thinking.’ Beside Elspeth, Edmund’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to protest, but Orgrim went on relentlessly. ‘A king’s son can betray and spy as well as a churl – and with more reason! Who would be better placed to overrun your kingdom once you were dead, my lord?’ Beotrich seemed about to protest, but Orgrim would not be stopped. ‘Why else would they come – both of them – in disguise? This boy has darkened his hair and skin!’ He pointed contemptuously at Elspeth. ‘And this,’ he said, ‘this is a girl, unnaturally concealed in men’s clothing.’
Elspeth’s right hand felt as if it was about to catch fire; she clenched it shut. No, she begged. You must not come.
I must!
Orgrim strode over and took hold of Elspeth. A great shudder ran through her and the sword burst from her chained hand in a blaze of brilliance.
Orgrim leaped back, a trickle of blood running from his wrist where the sword had caught it.
‘Not just a traitor, but a witch as well,’ he hissed.
‘No!’ Edmund shouted. ‘Elspeth’s no witch, and no spy either!’
Elspeth willed him to be quiet; it could do no good to speak for her now. But the men on the platform had no eyes for Edmund. Everyone was staring at the sword, burning white-hot in the dim chamber, held in a girl’s resolute silver hand.
‘By speaking for her, you convict yourself,’ Orgrim told Edmund. He turned to Beotrich. ‘Your verdict, my lord?’
The king looked horrified. ‘Guilty, yes, of course,’ he said, his eyes still on the crystal sword. ‘I leave the sentencing to you, Orgrim.’
‘You can’t do this, my lord!’ shouted Captain Cathbar.
Orgrim ignored him. ‘Let the boy be taken back to his cell to await execution,’ he ordered.
There was a shocked murmur from the bench. ‘But, my lord,’ quavered one of the old men, ‘to kill a king’s son –’
‘He was sent here in disguise,’ Orgrim reminded him. ‘Hardly the mark of an honest visit, surely?’ The counsellor was silent, and Orgrim went on. ‘We need have no fear of what Sussex might do in response. King Heored is campaigning in the North and i
s not expected to return. His queen holds power in his absence. Could a woman lead an army to attack the might of Wessex?’
The Guardian behind Edmund hauled him to his feet. Other hands fell on Elspeth.
‘Not the witch.’ Orgrim stepped towards Elspeth, and she could feel the gloating in his voice as he looked down at her. ‘There is more that she knows and has not revealed.’ His lip curled. ‘Take her to the stone cell and shackle her. I shall question her myself.’ He swept a low, graceful bow to the king and council and strode from the hall.
Elspeth looked at the fading shard of light in her hand.
You should have helped me! she screamed silently. Now Orgrim knows you are here. Is that what you wanted?
Chapter Eighteen
The tiny cell seemed even bleaker by daylight. Edmund had tried the door and scoured the timber walls for any weak points. Useless! It was built to keep in stronger prisoners than he, perhaps even those not bound hand and foot. There was nothing he could do but wait. They would not come for him till evening, he told himself; for if Venta’s hangings were a public spectacle, they would not be scheduled to interfere with the day’s work. But whatever Orgrim had planned for Elspeth, it would take place in private.
Edmund closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate as he cast about outside for any new information. The guard at the door had been joined by another man, but there was still little to see through their eyes; only stubbly grass and the back of King Beotrich’s great hall.
It was so easy to look now. Ever since he had borrowed the boar’s eyes, Edmund had felt that he had mastered the trick of it. He could move from gaze to gaze almost without thinking; he could even control his own movements while he looked through another’s eyes. And yet here in the cell none of it helped at all.
He wondered for the hundredth time where they could have taken Elspeth. The stone cell, Orgrim had said. The words meant nothing to him. He concentrated on sending his sight out as far as he could, first in one direction, then another. Someone pounding beans at a wooden table; a woman feeding chickens; a man on horseback – a Guardian, judging by his sleek horse. A wandering dog sniffing at a meat bone. There was the stone Rede House, seen through the eyes of a woman hurrying through the square. He reached further, inside the building, and found a slave boy strewing rushes on the flagstones. But there were no steps or trapdoors in the stone floor; nothing that could be a cell, and no guards in the building to watch prisoners. And, though he strained his sight in every direction, no trace of the glowing whiteness he had seen on the one occasion that he tried to use Elspeth’s eyes.