by Mary Yarde
Bastian had not expected to see two Saxon mercenaries coming out of the grain seller, but when he did he threw his weapons to the ground and said Merton’s name over and over. If he had not, he feared they would have slit his throat where he stood.
“Do you know where Lady Amandine is?” Yrre asked. “We should bring her to him immediately.”
Alden shook his head. “I don’t even know if she’s still…” He left the rest unsaid.
“Yrre?” Merton sighed Yrre’s name. “He killed him...Wann...he killed him. He’s dead...Wann’s dead...Philippe hung him...he’s dead...in the Hall…where is...where is she?”
“Be calm, brother,” Alden said. “She is safe. Everyone is safe. It’s just a nightmare, nothing more. I’ll keep you safe.” Alden repeated the words he had said to Merton many times when they were both children. After their parent’s death, Merton had been plagued with nightmares. Alden had been the only one with the patience to deal with a child who feared that everyone he loved was going to abandon him.
“Wann is dead?” Vernon asked, his voice trembling a little. His brother could not be dead. He would know. He looked away, screwing his eyes up tight as he tried to stem the tears. It wasn’t the way of a warrior to cry, even if you had just learnt of your brother’s untimely death.
“Mordred Pendragon,” Merton’s breath came in a frightful panicked gasp. “He is here...I saw him...I saw him…Aman…Amandine...the dragon...the dragon is here...he is here...”
“Merton? You aren’t making any sense,” Yrre said. He squeezed Merton’s hand, but there was no response.
“Merton?” Alden was by his side in an instant. “Is he breathing?”
“Yes,” Yrre answered. “Just. Alden, Merton and I have travelled to some dark places, but…” he shook his head. “If he were a horse then I would…I wouldn’t hesitate in ending his suffering.”
“Merton is strong. He always has been. He won’t give up without a fight. We must not give up on him now.”
“I would never give up on him…but…Merton…he has to die,” Yrre stated, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “If Whitgar learns of his injuries…he won’t be merciful. Sire…we have to protect him and the only way we can do this is if he dies…” Yrre withdrew his knife.
“You dare touch him, and I swear I will have you tied to the cave when we get home,” Alden warned, his hand catching hold of Yrre’s wrist.
“You think I mean to kill him?” Yrre asked with disbelieving eyes. “I intended to use this,” his gaze flickered to the knife, “to carve up that poor bastard,” his eyes travelled to where the dead body lay, “to make him look like Merton. I would never hurt Merton, I swear to you, Alden, I wouldn’t. We may not have the same blood, but he is my brother. And I will protect him.”
Alden slowly let go of Yrre’s wrist and watched as Yrre stood and went over to the dead man. Yrre beckoned Vernon over, and the boy quickly dashed at the tears in his eyes.
“Who is the dead man?” Alden asked in Breton as he took Merton’s hand in his. He purposely did not look at Yrre and Vernon as they set about their gruesome task.
“One of my men,” Bastian said.
“Your men?” Budic scoffed.
“They are hardly yours, are they-”
“I am going to kill you,” Budic announced, his voice quiet and deliberate. “And your death is going to be slow and painful and by painful, I mean excruciating. You will scream. You will curse the day your mother birthed you. You will-”
“How did he die?” Alden interrupted Budic’s rant, bringing Bastian’s attention back to him. Bastian was right; he was the only one who could get them out of here, and as much as he now hated the man, he would not risk Budic estranging him.
“I found him and another, just inside the entrance of the tunnel, with their necks broken. Their corpses are fresh. They haven’t been dead long — less than a day I would say. It was also where I stumbled upon these two,” he glanced at Yrre and Vernon. “It seems Merton has been very vocal about the tunnel and how to get into Benwick undetected. But, at least we now know that the tunnel is still passable. We may have to go out that way.”
Merton must have had his reasons about sharing the tunnels existence with his men, but Alden could not think of a reason why he would. “Why are you helping us?” Alden asked Bastian, for he could not understand it. It didn’t make any sense. “It cannot be because you want to redeem yourself.”
“You being here wasn’t part of the plan,” Bastian said. “Philippe wants Cerniw as an ally, I know he does, but there is another man who holds the strings…”
“Merton is right. Mordred is alive, isn’t he?” Alden stated.
“Of all the dimmest things you have ever said, that one takes the tourney,” Budic mocked. “Mordred is dead and buried and forgotten.”
“No. Merton is right,” Bastian said. “Mordred is alive.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Budic asked. “Why the hell not? I would have hunted that bastard down.”
“I didn’t tell you because he and I are cousins.”
“What?” Alden’s voice was scarcely audible, so shocked was he by such a confession.
“You are a Pendragon?” Budic asked from his corner of the cell, his voice, like Alden’s, full of disbelief.
“Yes. When I came here first, I was young, and I wanted to avenge my uncle. We all blamed Lancelot for Arthur’s death. My reason for coming here was to kill him. An eye for an eye, it was only right. But…Lancelot, he wasn’t what I thought he was. He was, in fact, the complete opposite of what I had been expecting and he turned everything I thought I knew about him on its head. I confessed everything to him. I was waiting for him to order my execution but,” Bastian laughed at the memory, “instead, he gave me a promotion, and I pledged my allegiance to him. I wrote to Mordred and told him that we should make peace with the du Lacs. Mordred crossed the South Sea, and he tried to talk to your father, but Lancelot would not hear a word he said. Lancelot didn’t trust him, and the truth is, I didn’t either. Mordred wears blinkers when it comes to your family. He cannot be reasoned with, and he refuses to listen. He is blinded by his grief and his need for vengeance. I felt relief when I heard that Mordred had fallen at Camlann.”
“When did you learn he was alive?” Alden asked.
“Several day’s after Wessex invaded Cerniw. He and Wessex are-”
“Allies? Are you trying to tell us that Wessex and Pendragon are allies?” Budic asked with blatant disbelief. “Wessex murdered Arthur.”
“Mordred doesn’t see it like that. He blames Lancelot for his father’s death.”
“By Gods’ Bones, you let Wessex go, didn’t you? We had that bastard in these very dungeons, and you let him and his army go,” Budic said.
“Tell me that is not true,” Alden said, looking at Bastian. “You saw what Wessex did to me. You saw how I was. I trusted you, not only with my life but with my wife’s.”
“Alden, you can still trust me with your life. I will get you out of here.”
“You let him go,” Alden said, grabbing hold of Bastian’s tunic. “You let that bastard go.”
“Enough,” Sampson said, his voice firm and commanding. “There is someone outside.”
They all turned their heads towards the door.
“Get rid of them,” Alden stated, letting go of Bastian’s tunic.
Bastian nodded in agreement and opened the door of the cell just enough so he could step outside. Everyone stayed quiet as they strained to listen to the conversation that was happening just behind the door.
“That’s Josephine,” Budic said, rising slowly to his feet as he recognised his wife’s voice. “What’s she doing here?”
45
“You don’t want to go in there,” Bastian said.
“I have my orders,” Josephine stated. “Philippe wants,” she lowered her voice, “he wants me to get Alden out and onto a boat. I have papers.” She gave a rolled parchment to Bastian.
Bastian quickly broke the seal and moved so he stood under a flaming torch. With the light of the torch, he quickly read the document. The handwriting was neat — the letters well formed, but small. It was a woman’s handwriting not a man’s and certainly not a monk’s.
“Alden’s release,” Bastian said, rolling the parchment back up and turning his attention back to Josephine.
“He wants to avoid a war with Cerniw,” she lied, for the writing was hers and the seal she stole.
“I will make sure his command is carried out. Go back to the castle, my Lady.”
“No, you don’t understand...” She reached up and touched Bastian’s chest, the armour was cold underneath her fingertips. “I am to go with Alden and negotiate a treaty of peace between him and Philippe. That is our King’s command. It is what he wants.” She ran her hand down Bastian’s armour in a very provocative manner.
Bastian caught her hand before it could make any mischief. He wasn’t a fool. It would take more than this scrap of a girl to beguile him. Bastian had seen more than his fair share of official documents. He knew what they looked like. He knew how they read. This one was too conversational, like a letter one would send to a friend. Whoever wrote this, did not have the authority of the King. But he would play along for now, for it would make getting the brothers out of here easier if he had in his possession an official looking document. Not many could read, and the seal of Philippe would be enough to let them pass through the portcullis unhindered, which would make things an awful lot easier than escaping through the old tunnel.
“You had better come in then,” he said.
Bastian opened the door to the cell. Josephine patted down her hair and ran her hand down her dress to smooth out a crease. She wanted to look perfect. She wanted to look like a queen. She raised her head, straightened her shoulders, and stepped inside.
It was the smell that hit her first, and she immediately put her hand to her nose, and she wished she had not put on her best dress.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said as Bastian gently pushed her into the room.
“Josephine?” Budic said her name in what sounded like relief, although she couldn’t be sure.
Josephine looked around the cell. “What’s going on? Her eyes strayed to Merton. “Is he still alive?” she asked from where she stood, making no move to go towards him, for there was no way she was going to take one more step into this disgusting place.
“Just about,” Alden stated.
“We are getting them all out,” Bastian said from behind her. He moved her sideways one step and walked to where Yrre and Vernon were carving up the dead man’s body.
“What are you doing to him?” Josephine asked in disgust with wide eyes as she witnessed the desecration of the corpse.
“Faking a death,” Budic explained.
“Whose?”
“Merton’s,” Budic replied. “Will you not kiss your husband, wife?”
“Husband?” Bastian turned to look at Josephine with raised eyebrows.
“You are rescuing everyone?” Josephine kept her attention on Bastian. She found that she did not want to look at her lying, scheming husband. How she hated him. How she hated them all. “Everyone?” she asked again. “Including Budic?”
“You sound disappointed, wife,” Budic said.
“What if Philippe realises it isn’t Merton?” Josephine asked, continuing to ignore her husband and his boorish claim on her. She had a name, how dare he humiliate her by calling her something as mundane as wife.
“I will make sure he will not want to get too close to the body,” Bastian answered.
“I would. If I were him,” Budic said.
“But you are not him. He will not want to get too close, take my word for it.”
“How are you going to explain away an empty dungeon,” Alden interrupted. He had not thought past the saving of his brother’s life. But getting out of here was going to be no mean feat.
“The same way I explained Wessex’s escape,” Bastian said, and for a moment there was silence.
“You will lie?” Budic spoke.
“I am very good at it. He will believe whatever story I concoct,” Bastian said.
“I don’t doubt you,” Budic replied. “You had us all fooled for years.”
“I was loyal to your father and to you. To all of you. I pledged my fidelity to your family. I didn’t lie about that. It was only when you left me with no choice that I broke my vow,” Bastian stated.
“Fidelity isn’t something you can choose to ignore whenever you feel like it,” Alden said. “You are either loyal, or you are not. And you, Bastian, are not.”
“I second that,” Budic stated.
“You do?” Alden asked in surprise.
“Sometimes you don’t talk out of your arse,” Budic replied. “I give praise where praise is due.”
“I will be back in a minute,” Bastian said, knowing that there was nothing he would ever be able to do to atone for his betrayal. “And then we are leaving. For what it is worth…I never thought it would come to this.”
Josephine followed Bastian out of the door.
“You cannot possibly let them all go,” she said, grabbing hold of Bastian’s arm. “Budic must stay and so must Merton.” She wanted to see them die. She would have her revenge on them all.
“Budic is your husband.” Bastian made the statement sound like a question. “Do you want him to die?”
“Would you want to be married to him?” Josephine asked.
Bastian tilted his head in recognition of her point. He would have liked to ask how she came to be married to the newly widowed ex-king, but at the end of the day it was none of his business, and he had bigger fish to worry about.
“All I ask is for you to leave them behind,” Josephine said, her tone gravely serious.
“I am sorry, but I cannot help you. I have sworn to God that I will get them all out of here. If you want to run and tell Philippe then run and tell him, I’m not stopping you.” There was a challenge in Bastian’s voice.
Josephine pretended to weigh up her options for a moment. “No, I’ll keep your secret for now,” she stated. “If you do something for me in return.”
“What?” Bastian asked.
She wanted to see Budic die, and she would see him die, he had lied to her one too many times. And she would have her revenge on Merton, but now she had a chance to think, she didn’t want Merton to die. She wanted to be there to see Merton’s despair rot his soul. She wanted to watch him wither away. She wanted to look in his face and see tortured eyes. She wanted to make his life so unbearable that he would wish for death. And only then would she take her knife and slit his throat.
“Let them think that Lady Amandine is dead,” Josephine said with a cruel smile.
“But Amandine isn’t dead. I was just going to get her. Why would you want me to lie about that?”
“Philippe has said that he will pardon Amandine for her crimes, so she will be perfectly safe. It is best for her to stay here, where her friends are. I very much doubt that Merton will recover. I want to spare her the heartache of watching him die,” Josephine said with insincere sympathy.
“But-”
“No buts. It will be our little secret, Bastian. But if you would rather not heed my advice then I shall go to Philippe directly and tell him all about your plans to get the brothers out of here.”
Bastian grabbed hold of Josephine’s arm tightly. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“I heard a rumour you have set up home with a peasant woman,” Josephine sneered, stepping closer to Bastian until her face was close to his. “I heard you have two bastard children. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to them now would we?” She spoke the words softly, but the threat was all too evident.
Bastian grabbed her other arm and slammed her hard against the wall. “I do not deal with threats,” he growled.
Josephine gasped, from the pain in her back, but the sneer did not
leave her mouth, and she started to laugh. “You want to kill me, don’t you, Bastian? I can see it in your eyes. But if I die, they die. I have written a letter that is to be opened and read if something were to happen to me. I talk about you in that letter. I talk about your children. I also talk about how you raped me and how you threatened me into silence.”
“You, scheming, lying, bitch,” Bastian smacked her hard across the face.
The force snapped her head to the side, but when she turned her face back to look at him, the sneer had not left her lips. “You will tell them that Amandine is dead, or I will destroy you and everyone you ever loved.”
Bastian let her go. “Budic should never have taken you into his care. You are your father’s daughter through and through,” he said with disgust. “Let me tell you a secret. Your father did not die when he crossed the border. He isn’t dead. Now...” Bastian smiled, knowing he had regained the upper hand. “I think you want to go back inside and retrieve that letter of yours. Bring it here, give it to me and I will tell them that Amandine is dead. Be a good girl and do as I say, and then, if I’ve a mind to, I will tell you where you can find your father.”
46
Sampson sang a low, melodic, hymn as he dressed Merton’s wounds. The sound of his voice brought a level of calmness to the dungeon.
“Did you know?” Alden turned to Budic, when Sampson paused for breath.
“That my general was a traitorous bastard and had Pendragon blood in his veins,” Budic scoffed. “Of course I didn’t bloody know. Do you think he would have stayed my general if I did? Don’t answer that.”
“He let Wessex go,” Alden said, “He let him go. I was so sure…”
“That I had let him go. That I had betrayed you. That I would turn against my own blood. Tell me, Alden, what else do you blame me for?
Alden didn’t answer Budic. For what could he say? I’m sorry. I misjudged you. No, he could not say those words — not in this lifetime anyway. Keeping his silence, he took Merton’s hand in his again.