by Kate Jacoby
“Only Deverin. He brought Payne in personally. No one knows he’s here.”
“Good.” Robert turned back to Payne. “Listen, Everard, you’ve taken a huge risk coming here like this. Is there any chance Selar will find out? You know what will happen to you if he does.”
“It doesn’t matter, Robert.” Payne shook his head, his eyes unfocused. “I had to come to tell you what happened. I didn’t dare send a letter.”
“Tell me?” Robert whispered. “What?”
“Bishop Domnhall died eight days ago. The election afterwards, to replace him ... was watched. I don’t know how. But Selar and Vaughn wanted them to choose Brome or Quinn.” Payne paused and took another mouthful of wine. “They elected Aiden McCauly though. Do you know him?”
“Not personally,” Robert murmured. “I’ve heard he’s a good man—a good choice. Go on.”
“He would have been a good Bishop too—except that Selar had him arrested and even now he languishes in the dungeons of Marsay.”
“Serin’s blood!” Finnlay swore.
“Selar must be mad!” Harold snapped. “Arresting an anointed Bishop? On what charge?”
“Treason—what else? Selar has given us no details yet.”
“And he probably won’t either.”
Robert held up his hand to silence Harold. “You rode all this way to tell me this?”
“Yes,” Payne nodded, his eyes fixed on Robert, “you need to know ... Selar arrested McCauly the moment he heard you’d returned to Lusara.”
It was so subtle, Finnlay almost missed it. Almost missed the way Robert’s face changed. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different. All he knew was that, despite his protests to the contrary, Robert did care—a very great deal.
Almost more than the news Payne delivered, this revelation came as a shock to Finnlay. For the first time in his life, he’d actually seen past the armour Robert always wore, past the glib humour and offhand remarks. It was all there, in those green eyes—pain, pure and simple. Why hadn’t he seen it before?
“Now you must go to court, Robert,” Harold said into the silence. “You must get McCauly free.”
“No,” Payne insisted. “That’s exactly what you can’t do. Vaughn would find some way to get rid of you despite Selar’s instructions. Vaughn will stop at nothing to kill you, Robert. That’s why I came. To warn you. You have to stay away from Marsay, at the very least until this has blown over. If you don’t believe me, then read this. It’s a letter from Godfrey. He said you would believe him.”
Robert took the letter but didn’t open it. Instead, he rose to his feet and wandered over to the fire. In the silence, Finnlay could almost hear the battle waging inside his brother—he could certainly feel the tension in the room. He stayed where he was, afraid to say anything, but it was Daniel who spoke first.
“It’s good advice, Robert. Whatever Selar means by taking McCauly, you cannot help the situation if you go to Marsay now.”
“That’s cowardice, Daniel, and you know it!” Harold launched across the room to stand before Robert, his huge frame shadowing the fireplace. “If you leave Selar to it, he’ll go on taking the law and twisting it to his own purposes. Now he’s got his own man in the primacy. What will he do next? How much more of Lusara will he destroy before you decide to stop him? Have three years away blunted your honour, Robert? You must go—and now!”
Robert looked up, fixing Harold with that penetrating gaze. He held it for long seconds, then slowly turned to Finnlay. “And what do you say, brother?”
Finnlay opened his mouth, but the words that came out surprised him. “You cannot go.”
Robert’s eyebrows rose and he almost smiled. “I’m sorry, Harold, but I’ve already explained my position. This matter changes nothing.”
Harold’s eyes burned. “Damn you!” he said, and stormed out of the room.
“Daniel?” Robert helped Payne to his feet. “Will you take Everard to Deverin. Make sure he gets some rest and food before he leaves.”
“Of course.”
As the door closed behind them, Robert picked up the letter and broke the seal. Finnlay waited by the fire, uncertain. Eventually Robert looked up.
“It’s incredible. According to Godfrey, the synod’s decision was not as simple as it appeared. Apparently they voted against Brome and Quinn because they’d heard that story about the hermit of Shan Moss. Both men have dark hair and they saw that as a sign. I can’t help thinking, though, if any man has split the Church in two, it’s me.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Finnlay came across the room and snatched the letter from Robert’s hand. “Your hair may be dark, Robert, but you didn’t force Selar to arrest McCauly. It’s not your fault.”
“Payne thinks so, not to mention Godfrey. What is Selar playing at?”
Robert’s frown deepened and Finnlay made his decision. “You may not be able to go to Marsay—but I can.”
“What?”
“No one will know. I can be in and out in a few days. I don’t know about you, but I want to know what’s going on. Please don’t forbid me, Robert.”
Robert took a deep breath and shook his head. Calmly, he took the letter back and folded it up. He turned for the door then paused, his back to Finnlay. “I have to say, it was good to have you as an ally for a change but I should have known there’d be a price.”
Chapter 11
The hospice stood on the edge of the market square, in the heart of the village of Fenlock and only half a league from Elita. From the chapel door Jenn could see the golden tower of the castle reach high above the trees surrounding the village. Spring had brought a glorious colour to the hamlet and with it, a market of festive gaiety. With the last of the snows melted away, Jenn felt she could finally breathe.
All through the winter she had made this trip with Bella. Every week after Mass, regardless of the weather, her sister had led her through the village to the hospice. They brought food, fresh baked bread, herbs and vegetables from the castle garden, ale from the brewery. Every week, Jenn had visited the sick and poor, the homeless and destitute—and every week Jenn grew closer to them. She learned their names, their families, their hopes and dreams. And sometimes, when nothing more could be done, she knelt beside her sister and prayed for their souls.
It was good work, and necessary. The Church had lost the legal right to run this hospice, but no Guildesman had yet appeared in Fenlock to take charge. Jacob believed they never would. With such a conspicuous display of noble patronage for the hospice, Jacob was determined to show his contempt and defiance of the King. It was a small thing, but Jenn had seen the fire in his eyes as he had spoken. These small rebellions were all that were left to him now. But rebellion or not, for Bella, these visits had another purpose, to teach Jenn about duty.
Bella talked about it as though Jenn had never heard the word before. But of course, with her innkeeper’s upbringing, Jenn couldn’t possibly know anything about duty! Nevertheless, it had proved, over the entire winter, to be the single most important lesson Bella had tried to instill in her. Oh, the writing and reading and the accounts and the household management and the clothes and the needlework and everything else were very important, but all those were nothing unless Jenn understood her duty!
It had got to the point where Jenn was ready to scream at the very mention of the word. It had developed, in her mind, the shape of a prison. Cold steel bars of Expectation atop walls of stone-carved Duty. The stupid thing was that Jenn was happy to do all this and more, and forget all about the concept of duty: she did it because she loved it.
It had been so difficult to get used to the idea that this was where she belonged. This was her home, her family, her people. This one single place. She had long since stopped waking in the morning wondering where she was today. But she had no time to miss the past, no time for anything other than her lessons. No time to reflect on what she’d done, on how she’d come here—no time even to think about sorcery!
Now that was the really difficult part. Robert had been right, it was so very hard to see those people in the hospice and not help them in some way. Of course, to her knowledge (which, she knew, didn’t amount to much) no sorcerer could actively heal anything with the direct use of power. Nevertheless, she did have Healer’s Sight and could see, without any effort at all, deep into the heart of a wound, or into the fits of a fever. She knew just what was needed to fix it, but she could say nothing, at least for the time being. At least until she’d learnt enough to be taken seriously by the physicians at the hospice. The good brothers welcomed their visits and were always happy to listen to any suggestion Bella might make, but then Bella had been doing this for years and had gained quite a bit of knowledge along the way. Jenn found it very frustrating, especially as she didn’t even know how to do that trick Robert had used, on the old man at the farmstead, to ease someone’s pain.
And she’d needed to do that today. Poor Ruth with her tired old body, riddled with evil-smelling polyps and blood encrusted sores. She’d cried out to the gods to take her, to stop the pain, to let her walk willingly into their arms. But instead, she’d lain there for days, in agony, beyond even sobbing for relief. Jenn had sat with her a long time, holding her hand and saying nothing. She’d tried to shut out the things her senses told her, but it was useless. She sat there and suffered along with Ruth in a way she’d never thought possible. If only she could have reached out. If only she could have eased the lines of pain from Ruth’s face. If only she could use her ...
“Are you going to stand there all day or are you coming into the market with me?”
Jenn whirled around to find Bella standing on the steps beside her, hands on hips. It was a common stance for Bella and one which made Jenn cringe. “Sorry. I was thinking about Ruth.”
“Well, she’s with Mineah now and beyond suffering. Come, we should get moving, otherwise Father will wonder what’s happened to us. Look, there’s Lawrence.”
Jenn came down the steps beside Bella just as Lawrence pushed his way through the crowd to meet them. As always, Lawrence’s gentle brown eyes lit up at the sight of his wife, and as always, Bella smiled in response. He was a lovely man, but one of the best things about him was that Bella always softened in his company.
“I left the horses with the innkeeper at the Boar and Oak, my dear. It’s much too crowded here to bring them through. Do you want to leave now or do you want to make some purchases?”
Bella glanced around. “Well, if you’re in no hurry?”
Lawrence bowed with graceful irony. “I’m at your service, my sweet.”
Jenn stifled a giggle as Bella sniffed and moved on. Following behind, Lawrence paused from time to time and pointed things out to Jenn he knew she would be interested in.
“Now this is a beauty!” He picked up an embroidered shawl rich in greens and golds. “By the look of it, it’s true Alusian.”
“Aye, my lord, it is indeed.” The woman behind the stall grinned. “My son did a pilgrimage there last year and brought that back with ‘im. ’E brought these other pretties as well.”
Jenn stood beside Lawrence and glanced over the trinkets displayed before her. There was a whalebone jar carved in the design of Alusia’s shrine to Mineah, several more shawls, and a small grey stone box, plain and square. Curious, Jenn picked it up and turned it over. It felt warm in her hands and instantly she wanted to buy it.
“What do you want a thing like that for?” Bella demanded, peering over her shoulder. “It’s not even pretty.”
Jenn wrapped her hands around it. “I think it is.”
“Hah!” Bella turned away, giving Jenn the brief opportunity to pay for the box. Lawrence gave her a quick smile and they turned to follow Bella through the crowd. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed Jenn’s shoulder.
“It’s you, isn’t it!”
Jenn shrank back from the hideous face that leered down at her. The man was huge. He wore rags which hung loose from his body and his eyes bore the gleam of madness. “It was you, you lying little whore.”
“Let her go!” Lawrence bellowed, launching towards the man. He struggled for a moment before he could finally release the man’s hold on Jenn.
“No!” The man roared, “I’ll kill her! It’s all her fault!” He flailed around with his arms, knocking people aside. By now the crowd had parted around the man as he continued to spit curses. Jenn remained frozen to the spot, with Lawrence standing protectively between them.
He roared again and dived to get past Lawrence, who stood firm against the bigger man. Then the crowd came to their rescue. Strong hands pulled the man back and although he struggled, they kept their hold. He continued raging against them until suddenly Bella moved forward, her voice cool and soothing.
“Stop it, Joseph. That’s enough. You’ve scared her plenty, now leave it alone. You’ve done your job. Go home.”
Joseph stared at her with glazed eyes which abruptly filled with tears. “But my lovely Tali, my lady. She’s dead, you know. She died because of that whore.”
“Enough,” Bella murmured again. “Leave it, Joseph. You can do no good now. Go home.”
With a nod from Bella, the men holding him led him away, but even as he went, Jenn could hear his mutterings. The crowd dispersed and went back to their normal business and immediately Lawrence turned around to Jenn.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, her eyes still on the retreating men. “Who was that? What did he mean? Why did he call me ...”
“Pay no attention to him, Jennifer,” Bella replied crisply. “He’s quite mad. I doubt he’ll bother you again.”
“But who is he? I want to know.”
Bella sighed. “You wouldn’t remember him; you were too young. Still, I suppose you should know. His name is Joseph Yates. His wife Tali was your nurse. When you disappeared by the river you were in her care.”
“And everybody blamed her for my death?”
“Everybody shunned her, no one would take her in, nor even speak to her. Then one day she was found dead in the forest. Joseph has been a little unbalanced ever since. I suppose now that he knows you’ve returned, it just makes it so much harder for him.”
Jenn closed her eyes. A weight like stone sat on her chest and she breathed deep to ease it. She’d never thought of the wider consequences of her abduction, or the effects it had had on other people. If only she could help Joseph in some way, but she couldn’t. He was beyond her help. She couldn’t even tell him why she’d been taken.
“Come,” Lawrence murmured, putting his arm around her shoulders, “I think it’s time we were getting home.”
Jenn nodded, then looked down at the little stone box in her hands. Lawrence followed her gaze. “Oh no! It’s broken!”
It was true. Somewhere in the scuffle with Joseph, Jenn had gripped the box so hard in her hands that its delicate stone sides had cracked in two. She held one in each hand then, with a shrug, put them into her pocket. “This is becoming a habit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Let’s go.”
They made their way through the crowd to the Boar and Oak where Lawrence retrieved their horses. He held Jenn’s as she mounted, but the moment she got up on to the horse, a strange feeling washed over her, like cold water.
Someone was watching her.
Instantly she looked around at the passing villagers and at first she saw nothing. Then—
There, a face in the crowd—but as soon as she saw it, the face disappeared. All Jenn was left with was the memory of a pair of hazel eyes and a deep feeling of disquiet.
Jacob sat in the long walled garden in the shade of a yew tree his great-grandfather had planted. It had been a symbol of peace between two brothers who had fought for years. On the day the eldest had ascended the throne, the younger had planted this tree and had sworn from that day on allegiance to the crown of the Earls of Elita. The tree had flourished and grown, tall and proud. Such could not be said, however, f
or the House it sheltered. Fate or the gods themselves had decreed that the Ross family should fade and perhaps even die. Without a son to take his name forward, Jacob had only his daughters to follow him, and one of those had been married for seven years without issue. As for the other?
Despite his sombre mood, Jacob still could not help smiling when he thought of his Jennifer. After so many years, so much pain and anguish ... If only Elaine had lived to see it. If she could only have known her child still lived, she might have had the strength to live herself. But it was not to be. Jennifer was back, that was the important thing. All the rest were only memories of things he could not change.
But it was the past and its memories which kept him in the garden today. Jacob glanced across the grass. Latham Campbell had travelled a long way to see Jacob, and all because of the past. Old and worn, Campbell was still a man to be reckoned with. And he’d seen a lot of tragedy in his life, not the least of which was the loss of his son and heir in the final battle against Selar, at Nanmoor. The very same battle in which Jacob had almost died.
Campbell sat on a bench, his lean legs stretched out before him. With almost forced patience, he kept his hands together and gazed up at the yew branches high above. There, celebrating the first weeks of spring, a pair of finches prepared to nest. In a musing voice, Campbell finally spoke. “You’re not telling me what an old fool I am, Jacob. Is it because you feel pity for me?”
Jacob shook his head slowly. “No. You’re no fool, Latham—unless you’ve changed a lot over the years. You follow your heart just as you should.”
“Even now? After all these years?”
“Even now.”
Campbell nodded and threw Jacob a wry glance. “But you do feel pity for me?”
“I feel you are a man searching for some small ray of hope. If that is pity...” Jacob shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.
Abruptly Campbell stood and began pacing up and down the path in front of Jacob. The rose border at his feet had yet to bloom, but the tiny green leaves trembled with his every step. “Where are they? What can be keeping them?”