by Jeff Wheeler
It was impossible not to brood on the letter. She had always been jealous of Elysabeth, or rather of Sir Thomas’s feelings for her. The girl who’d helped her dress with such boredom and disinterest on her first night in Dundrennan was a beauty, no doubt, but she did not appear to have great depth of mind. Still, she was a duke’s daughter now. Her prominence in the world had risen greatly. She was an eligible match for any young man in Ceredigion, and she knew it.
The letter said too much, and Ankarette wished she had never seen it. Her feelings for Sir Thomas roiled inside her, more conflicted and confusing than ever. She was disheartened that his attitude had begun to change only after his advances—and it was clear from the letter they were recent ones—had been rebuffed once again. Ankarette had not been his first choice. But that feeling was mixed with a degree of sadness and tenderness for him and a desire to ease his pain. There was also a small feeling of relief that the haughty girl from the North had rebuffed his advances. He deserved someone better than her.
The courier arrived later with another stack of letters. He was short, with a pudgy face, a dark goatee, and wavy dark hair. “Another pile,” he apologized. She took them from him and quickly began to read again, trying to maintain her focus.
Her heart pined after Sir Thomas much like his did for Elysabeth.
Should she tell him how she felt?
The mere thought of it made a flush creep to her cheeks.
It was at that moment that he appeared in the secret doorway, looking more rested. “Are you cold?” he asked her, glancing at the brazier, which had burned low.
“Not at all,” she hastily replied, rising from the chair.
He gestured for her to remain. “I need to go see the king. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Ankarette. You’re a jewel. What news?”
He came and stood over her shoulder, as she had done with him, and his nearness made her ache inside. “I’ve organized them all and tried to straighten up your desk.”
“I can see that. Thank you.”
“These two you should read on your way to the king.” She said, handing them to him. Turning to another small stack, she snatched it up and said, “These you should answer and seek more information. What happens with this pile after you’ve read it?”
“The courier burns them,” he said. “This room generates more messages than you can possibly imagine. Even more than the royal correspondence. Thank you again, Ankarette. I could not bear this task alone for much longer.”
“Of course. I only wish to be useful.”
The next few days passed in a like manner. They took turns reading the correspondence in the Star Chamber. She would fill him in on the latest news, which he would use in his reports to the king, and he would inform her of what he’d read while she was resting. There was no fixed schedule, and sometimes they would talk for hours to compare what they’d learned. Neither of them could see what Warrewik was doing. Neither of them could deduce his plan. As the days stretched on, the tension in the palace grew and grew. But she savored the partnership they’d formed, and the frank discussions they had fed her mind and her heart.
And then the letter came that changed everything.
It was a short letter, one hastily scrawled line from an Espion in the southern town of Lawness.
Warrewik has landed.
Ankarette gripped the letter, her heart racing as she leaned forward. She felt the pulse of her Fountain magic respond to the note, bearing witness to the truth of it. It was dated one day ago. She pushed away from the desk and, grabbing a lantern, swiftly entered the Espion tunnels. It was the middle of the night, but the catacombs were familiar to her.
As she walked, she saw someone approaching her. Assuming it was Sir Thomas, she held the lantern higher.
“There is news,” she said urgently and then suddenly stopped. She didn’t recognize the man. Then she heard the soft tread of boots behind her.
Someone smashed a rag against her mouth from behind.
The instinct to breathe in was strong, but she had learned to fight that instinct in Pisan. Dropping the lantern, she jabbed her elbow back into the ribs of her assailant. Then, gripping his forearm, she twisted and hoisted him onto her back, then flipped him down so that he landed on the lantern, squelching the flame. The man barked in pain and surprise and the tunnel was smothered in darkness. The rag had left gritty residue on Ankarette’s face, and her mind began to swarm with dizziness. It was morgrith powder.
She heard the noise of bootsteps coming toward her. She unsheathed her dagger and threw it, hearing the hiss of an indrawn breath as it hit her target in the heart, followed by the sound of a second body slumping to the floor.
The other man, still moaning in pain, tried to scramble away. Ankarette grabbed his sleeve and then jammed the edge of her hand into his neck. He struck back at her, flailing, but she encircled his neck with the crook of arm, ignoring the spots dancing in front of her eyes. He tried to grab her face, her hair, but she leaned back, twisting away from him, fighting the weakness weighing down on her.
The man twitched, losing his strength as she choked the air from him. Then he collapsed. She sagged against the wall of the corridor, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. No longer able to stand, she began to crawl away in the dark. She moved past the two fallen opponents and made her way to Thomas’s room. Was she lost? Her mind was a fog . . .
The terrible urge to vomit struck her and she sprawled forward, purging herself onto the ground. But after the spasms ended, she felt her wits returning, along with her strength, and she managed to make it to her feet. Soon, she was at Sir Thomas’s bedroom. She didn’t bother being quiet and he awoke instantly.
“Ankarette?” he asked in a worried voice. She heard the rustling of his bed sheets, and he quickly lit a taper from the coals in the brazier.
He stared at her in shock.
She looked down and saw blood smeared on her gown. Her throat was still burning with bile. She thrust the letter into his hand and he read it quickly.
“I killed two men in the corridor,” she croaked. “They were Warrewik’s men.”
“Lawness is a day’s ride from Kingfountain,” Thomas said, scrubbing his hand through his dark hair. He looked at her in grave concern.
“Which means he’ll arrive by dawn,” she answered, having come to the same conclusion. “He already has men in the palace.”
“Are you injured?” he asked her worriedly.
She shook her head. “The blood is theirs.” Then she looked at him fiercely. “Warrewik doesn’t want a pitched battle. His honor demanded one before, but now he’s too afraid he’ll lose. Everything else has been a deception, an attempt to lure our attention away and keep Eredur undecided. We have to assume he’s known our movements better than we’ve known his. Somehow he knows Eredur is still in Kingfountain . . . and that he’s sent away most of his knights. He’ll attack swiftly, and he won’t grant quarter this time.”
“No, he won’t,” Thomas said. “I must get the king out of here. But where? Warrewik probably has people watching the bridge night and day. We’ll have to cross the river.”
“No,” Ankarette said, shaking her head. “You’d be playing into his hands. Eredur must leave Kingfountain. He must leave Ceredigion completely.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Her mind was awhirl with ideas, plots and plans fitting together. “He must do the same thing Warrewik did. The tables have turned. He must flee. To Brugia.”
“You said yourself that Captain Vauclair cannot be trusted!”
“I didn’t say go to Callait. Didn’t the king say his sister is married to the King of Brugia? He must flee to Marq.”
Sir Thomas looked appalled. “I wouldn’t trust that man with the king’s safety. He’s treacherous. He could hold him for ransom, and Warrewik would pay.”
“In times of crisis, we turn to our families,” Ankarette said. “And right now, being unpredictable may be the only thing that saves Eredu
r’s life.”
Sir Thomas looked at her seriously. He took a deep breath. “All right, but I’m not telling him this on my own. You’re coming with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Cistern
The logs added to the hearth were beginning to snap and flame, which brightened the royal bedchamber considerably. Eredur paced back and forth, his countenance fallen with worry and despair at the news they had brought. Elyse sat in her robe on a small cushioned sofa, one hand protectively over her swollen abdomen. Her eyes were tracing her husband’s frantic stride. This was the worst kind of news to receive in the dead of night.
“I don’t want to abandon the palace,” Eredur said angrily. “Do you have any idea how difficult it will be to win back Kingfountain? If we summon my knights, perhaps we can hold Warrewik off for a few days, give Horwath and Kiskaddon a chance to interrupt the siege?”
Sir Thomas sighed wearily. “You’re risking more than just the castle. Warrewik will throw you in the river.”
The queen looked imploringly at her husband. “He will, my love. I think Thomas and Ankarette’s plan is wise. You must flee to Brugia while you can.”
Eredur brooded, walking to the hearth with clenched fists. “I should have kept an army near me. I want to fight him. With a hundred sworn men, with a hundred loyal men, I could defeat him.”
The queen rose shakily from the bench and went to him, wrapping her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek against his back. “No, you could not. Sir Thomas, if Warrewik’s spies have already infiltrated the castle, there will be a trap for us on the bridge. They’ll expect us to flee.”
“Yes, we’ve already considered that,” Sir Thomas said, nodding to Ankarette. “I’d suggest rousing your knights and Severn right now while I fetch the palace woodsman. He knows the grounds even in the dark and can bring us through the wall. No torches or lanterns. We flee to the village of Lindower and bribe some fishermen to row us to Brugia. We could get away before they leave with their nets this morning. The docks will be watched.”
Eredur turned angrily. “Elyse is in no condition to march that far! Not to mention the danger of a sea crossing. The babe is due in another month.”
“My other sons are with my brother,” Elyse said. “What will happen to them if Warrewick seeks more revenge on my family?”
“I know this is difficult,” Ankarette said, stepping forward, acutely aware of the queen’s condition. “She cannot flee. She and your daughter must remain behind in Kingfountain.”
Eredur was grief-stricken. “I cannot abandon them again!”
Elyse’s eyes were wet with tears, but she held herself bravely. She leaned against him, clinging to him as a pillar. His arms wrapped around her.
Ankarette looked him firmly in the eye. “I will bring them back to the sanctuary of Our Lady. They will be under the care of Deconeus Tunmore. Not even Warrewik would risk the wrath of the Deep Fathoms by dishonoring the privilege of sanctuary. Tunmore is a powerful ally, my lord. And your step-sons can be taken to another sanctuary if you fear for them. St Penryn’s for example.”
Sir Thomas put his hand on Ankarette’s shoulder. “Listen to her, my lord. Every moment we waste convincing you, we run the risk that this plan will fail. The chance is slim enough as it is.”
“But you just said that the bridge would be guarded and the Espion tunnels may be crawling with Warrewik’s lackeys. I don’t mind taking risks for myself, but this is straining my trust and confidence to the utmost.”
“I understand,” Ankarette said. “I would need to hide the queen and your daughter in the castle for a few days. A place where no one would come looking for them.”
Sir Thomas turned to her. “What about the cistern beneath the palace? No one ever goes down there.”
The queen looked worried. “I don’t know where that is. Is it very small, like a well?”
“No, my lady,” Thomas soothed. “It runs the length of the palace. It’s like a huge catacomb. It stores the rainwater for the palace each year so we don’t have to haul it up the hill in barrels. I think there’s even a boat down there the servants use to inspect the far ends. Even in the daylight, it’s pitch dark down there. You could hide easily.”
The queen brightened.
“Just long enough,” Ankarette said, “for Warrewik to seize the castle. I could take your daughter to the sanctuary first—in disguise, of course—and then come and fetch you. People will expect to see you in royal robes and gowns. A peasant woman and her daughter will be unrecognizable.”
“Love?” Eredur asked, stroking her cheek with the edge of his finger. “I don’t want to be parted from you. Not again.”
The queen cast her gaze down and then looked at him with determination. “We must think beyond ourselves. The time has come for us to break your uncle’s dominion once and for all. Go to your sister and beg for aid. Promise whatever you must. But return with an army and claim what is yours. This castle is yours. The hollow crown is yours. What will happen to the land if we are put under the rule of a mad king? You must set us free, my lord husband. My dearest friend.” She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. Then she turned and approached Sir Thomas. “I trust you with my husband’s life, Sir Thomas. Do not fail me.”
He swallowed at the solemnity of the moment. “I won’t, Your Majesty.”
She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed Sir Thomas’s cheek. “I hold you to your vow.” Then she turned. “Ankarette. Let’s awaken Elyse.”
The preparations were all underway. Everything was done in profound silence. The knights had been roused. So had the king’s younger brother, Severn, who wore a black tunic and stood by the hearth in the king’s chamber, his eyes brooding darkly. Ankarette saw him gripping a dagger handle in his belt. He slowly pulled it partway from the sheath before slamming it back into the scabbard, as if he were plunging it into Warrewik’s back. News of Nanette’s forced marriage had thrown him into a fury. Lord Hastings, the king’s chancellor, was also with them. He had no desire to remain behind and risk the consequences of Warrewik’s disfavor.
Drew, the palace woodsman, stood there warily in the midst of the royal company. Ankarette did not know him well, but the menacing axe strapped to his back gave him a dangerous look despite his being soft-spoken. He had a backpack full of food and provisions for them to eat along the journey, hastily assembled by his kind-hearted wife, Liona, the castle cook.
Sir Thomas brushed his hands together. “Everything is ready,” he said. “We must go, and quickly. We must be like the shadows. We’re taking no armor, to avoid the noise, and you’re to keep your swords in their sheaths. If I catch anyone muttering above a whisper, you’ll be left behind. Is that clear?”
All the men nodded. The queen and her daughter were both wrapped in cloaks, as was Ankarette herself. The child Elyse rushed up and hugged her father fiercely. He crouched down to squeeze her, pressing bearded kisses against her cheek. She sobbed quietly, and it was clear to Ankarette that she would have braved the long walk in the woods at night if she’d been allowed. She did not beg her father to stay, but faced the situation with courage.
After hugging her father, she walked up to her teenage uncle, Severn, and hugged him as well. Her kindness touched him, melting past the seething anger. He too bent down and hugged her, patting her head tenderly.
“Keep Papa safe,” little Elyse told him.
“Loyalty binds me,” he said.
“We go,” Eredur said curtly. He had already bid his wife good-bye. Their looks were full of sorrow and concern, the one for the other. The sight of their mutual affection pricked Ankarette’s heart. They were the closest, deepest of friends and allies.
The men began filing out of the room into the dark corridor, the woodsman leading the way. Sir Thomas waited by the door, making sure everyone was accounted for, and finally he and the king were the only ones who had yet to leave.
Eredur gazed at his wife one last time.
“Come
back to me,” the queen pleaded in a whispered voice.
He nodded in response and slipped into the hall. Sir Thomas let out a heavy sigh and then gazed at Ankarette. Her heart churned with emotion. She walked up to him and withdrew a folded letter from her girdle.
“I went by the Star Chamber,” she told him, offering him the letter. “You had set this one aside. I thought you might want to keep it . . . or that you wouldn’t want Warrewik or anyone else to discover it.”
It was the final letter he had received from the woman he’d loved. His eyes widened with surprise as he took it.
“Did you read it?” he asked. He didn’t look offended or concerned, just curious.
She worried her cheeks would flush, so she hurriedly nodded, preferring to reveal herself through her words.
His lips pursed. “Well, thank you, Ankarette.” He stuffed it into his pocket and raked his hand through his hair. His cheeks reddened a little with embarrassment. “That was very good of you. I’m not sure I want to keep it now.” He glanced backward into the corridor. “Well, I must go. I wish there were time to say more—ah, but there isn’t.”
There was much she wished she could say to him as well. There was something in his eyes, that new look she’d noticed. If only . . .
“Good-bye, Sir Thomas,” she said, her chest aching.
Ankarette had never been inside the cistern before, but it fascinated her. She marveled at the stone buttresses overhead that were burdened with the enormous weight of the castle. Little Elyse was nestled in the prow of the small boat, holding the lantern to help them steer. Ankarette prayed the girl wouldn’t be careless and drop the lantern into the water, plunging them into darkness. The queen sat with a cask of jewels on her lap, shivering with cold and fear. Ankarette held the oar and gently pushed them deeper into the massive expanse, eyeing both sides as they went.