The White Robe (The Sword and the Spell)

by Clare Smith

  People ran to obey his commands and Istan knelt by Jarrul’s side and took his shaking hands, whilst Jarrul gasped and wheezed as his coughing fit passed. When he finally had enough breath to talk, he sent his helpers away and carried on cleaning himself up as best as he could.

  “What happened? Where’s the Queen?” asked Istan urgently.

  “She came to rescue me all by herself. This beast was holding me prisoner in a cage and she came and took my place. We must go back and rescue her, or she’ll die of the cold and the rain.”

  He broke out into another fit of coughing and Istan waited for it to pass. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, but I don’t think being locked outside in all weathers and then riding day and night for so long has done me much good. What are we going to do, Istan?”

  “I’ve asked Zott to get the council together which will take at least a candle length, so let’s get this dirt off you, and me for that matter, and then see what can be done.”

  Jarrul nodded in agreement. Istan organised servants and helpers to take him to his rooms. By the time the guard came to tell them the council was gathered, they both looked fairly respectable, but tired. Zott had ordered the council room to be reopened and all the councillors, except Malingar, were in place when they arrived. They took their places at the long table and Istan stood to speak.

  “Gentlemen, things seem to have changed somewhat since I was last here, and I fear we have a situation which requires immediate action.”

  “What about Captain Malingar?” asked the guildmaster from the brewer’s guild. “Shouldn’t he be here? It doesn’t seem right to make decisions without him.”

  Istan shook his head and tried to keep his patience. “Master Brewer, I understand your concern, but I believe that Captain Malingar may be part of the problem.” There was a general murmur of disagreement which Istan quelled with a chopping motion of his hand. “I think you should hear what Master Jarrul has to say.”

  He went to indicate that Jarrul should address the council but was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door and a squad leader entering without his permission. “Lord Istan! My Lords! I think you had better come and see this.”

  “See what?”

  “It’s an army, My Lord, about three candle lengths ride away. They should be here by sunset.”

  “Is it Malingar’s men that he’s brought from the north, or Great Lord Andron’s army?”

  “Neither, My Lord. Captain Malingar has deployed half that force in the city and if it is Andron’s army, then it has more than tripled in size.”

  There was instant chaos as the councillors started to panic and it took a bellow from Guildmaster Jobes to silence them so Istan could be heard above the racket. “Gentlemen, until we know where this army has come from and what their intentions are I suggest we close and bar the gates and man the walls with every soldier we can find.” Everyone enthusiastically nodded their agreement. “Good. Squad Leader, if you will see that the order is given and the guard are turned out, and Master Zott, if you will take charge of the fortress, Jarrul and I will go to the walls and see what we’re up against.”

  “I’m coming too,” demanded Jobes. “You aren’t going to leave me out of this!” Istan nodded and everyone moved.

  From the highest point of the city wall, the bastion beside the main gate, they could see the extent of the army which had now stopped and were clearly waiting for something to happen. There were nearly three thousand men and a huge collection of baggage carts which, going by their number and size, contained siege engines. The distance was too far to make out whose banners they carried, but their intention was clear. There was no camp being set up, so whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. They watched as a small group of riders from the west approached the centre of the army where most of the banners were congregated, although they were unable to make out who the new arrivals were. After a short time two of the riders remounted and left the centre, riding towards the city carrying a white flag.

  “Well,” said Istan. “At least we know who that is.”

  Malingar, too, had seen the army arrive and cursed under his breath. What was Borman playing at? They were at least a moon cycle too early, giving him barely enough time to deploy his men in the key positions he had chosen. He had planned to have Tarmin completely in his control by the time his king arrived, so that he could hand it over as if it were his own gift to endow. Instead, he would look like a fool who wasn’t in charge of the situation, or worse still, a traitor and a turncoat who wanted Leersland for himself. As he watched the city gates close and soldiers gather on the walls, he cursed out loud; someone had taken the initiative, and he was certain it was not the dithering council. If he didn’t act quickly, he and his family were in deadly trouble.

  He grabbed Captain Tordray, the nearest dozen guards and his horse and galloped in the direction of the army hoping that they would quickly let him through to where King Borman waited with his honour guard. If he was going to retrieve the situation he needed to get to them urgently before Borman lost his patience and started to act. As he approached the ranks of armsmen they opened up for him to gallop through until he reached the king. He quickly dismounted from his horse and went to one knee.

  “Your Majesty, welcome to Tarmin. I hadn’t expected you to arrive so soon.”

  “That’s clear, Captain Malingar. However I’m pleased to see that you have responded so quickly to my arrival, although it’s a pity that Tarmin isn’t as enthusiastic about me being here as you are.”

  “I’m sorry, My Lord. If you had arrived as expected, I would have had the appropriate reception planned.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you would, which is why I decided to arrive early. Come, get off the floor. I have a surprise for you.” Borman waved his hand in the direction of the nearby coach and a guard drew back the curtains at the windows. The girl inside smiled and the two small boys waved at their brother.

  Malingar scowled in annoyance. It seemed the harder he tried to please his king, the less Borman trusted him. “You shouldn’t have brought them here, Your Majesty; an invading army is no place for children.”

  “Nonsense, they were eager to see their older brother, and I was certain you would want to know that they were safe and well. Now, Captain Malingar, let’s see if you are as good at putting your rightful king on the throne of Leersland as you were the Lady Tarraquin. If you are successful and I’m pleased with the outcome of our little adventure, then you will stand at my right hand at my coronation, and your brothers and sister will be proud of you. If, on the other hand, you fail me, I’ll take it as proof of your disloyalty and Rastor will stand at my right hand after having spent the night with your sister and, if he’s in the mood, your brothers too.” Rastor gave an evil grin of anticipation. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “If it would speed things up you may take as many of my men as you want with you when you ride back to Tarmin”

  Malingar thought about how he was going to manage this mess and then shook his head. “No, Your Majesty, that won’t be necessary, but if I could use the services of your white robe and borrow a white flag for a while, that would be helpful.”

  Borman raised an eyebrow in surprise at the modest requests and waved for Callabris to join him. Jonderill followed behind, not sure if he should go with Callabris or wait where he was, so he stood to one side waiting to be called if he was needed. Malingar stood close to Callabris and spoke quietly for a short while so only they could hear what was being said. When they had finished, they walked to where Jonderill stood.

  “Master Jonderill,” began Malingar. “Lord Callabris has told me that you’ve taken an interest in the welfare of my brothers and sister on the journey here for which I’m most grateful. I have need to call on your kindness again if you wouldn’t mind. I fear for my family’s safety in a camp which might soon be turned into a battlefield and would ask you to provide them with what protection you can u
ntil I’m in a position to protect them myself. Lord Callabris has agreed to ask his master that they be moved to the rear of the army under your protection if you are agreeable.”

  Jonderill looked questioningly at Callabris who nodded his agreement. Babysitting wasn’t what he really wanted to do, but if Callabris had suggested it then he could hardly refuse. “I would be pleased to give them my protection.”

  “Good. Please excuse me, I must return to Tarmin with all speed.” Malingar bowed briefly to them both and then walked briskly away to where Captain Tordray was mounted and waiting, holding the white flag and his horse.

  Callabris touched Jonderill lightly on his arm to get his attention. “Come on, Jonderill; let’s talk to the king about your new duty. The sooner those children are moved to safety the better.”

  Jonderill nodded in agreement but couldn’t help thinking that something was going on, although he wasn’t sure what.

  From the top of the city wall by the main gate, Jarrul watched as Malingar rode towards Tarmin, the white flag flapping behind him. He had never trusted the man and seeing him riding back from the enemy’s camp confirmed his feelings. If it had been up to him he would have had one of the guards bring him down with his bolt bow, but Istan had already given the order to open the gate and let the captain in. Below him Istan and the Guildmaster were waiting for Malingar to arrive, surrounded by the city’s guard just in case of treachery.

  As he was still exhausted from his long journey he had been left to command the walls, a job he could do sitting down on a stone block which gave him a good view of the ramparts. He looked along the raised walkway and was pleased to see that most of the guards were from Leersland and were not those who owed their allegiance to Malingar. His thoughts were interrupted by the clatter of horses entering the guard area below, and he turned his attention back to what was going on below him, whilst fighting off waves of tiredness.

  One of the disadvantages of being in charge of the defenders on the walls was that he couldn’t hear what was being said. All he could do was watch as Malingar talked to Istan and the Guildmaster. It was obvious that an argument was going on by the raised hands and pointing and at one stage, Istan had to step in between Malingar and the Guildmaster before they came to blows. After that the discussion was less heated, and a decision must have been reached as Captain Tordray trotted off and returned a short while later with horses for Istan and the Guildmaster and a dozen or so guards from the fortress. When they were all mounted, the gates reopened and they trotted out with Malingar in the lead carrying the white flag as though it was his own, personal banner.

  Jarrul fought off a fit of coughing as he watched them leave, unable to believe that they would just move out without telling him what was going on. So shocked was he that he didn’t hear Captain Tordray come up behind him until the captain snapped to attention and called his name. Jarrul jumped like a startled long-eared hopper.

  “My apologies, Master Jarrul. I have a message and instructions for you which Lord Istan has left.”

  “Well, that’s a relief; I thought he’d forgotten I was still here.”

  “Not at all, sir. He begs me to tell you that it’s King Borman and his retinue who waits yonder requesting permission to enter Tarmin. He came to offer his respects to the Queen but on hearing that her majesty was absent he would like to pay his respects to the council instead.”

  “He came to pay his respects with an army behind him?”

  “Captain Malingar has explained to the council that King Borman always travels with a large escort.”

  Jarrul raised his eyes in disbelief. “Go on.”

  “Lord Istan and the Guildmaster have gone to the camp to discuss the terms under which King Borman may enter Tarmin, after which they’ll return. Lord Istan makes two requests of you, sir. Firstly, that the freshest and most experienced soldiers are manning the walls in case of trouble and he’s asked me to assist you with this. Secondly, that should any harm come to himself or the Guildmaster, then the city gates should remain firmly shut and you should resist the entry of King Borman into the city with whatever force you can muster.”

  Jarrul thought about it for a moment and then nodded his head in approval. “I suppose that’s a reasonable way to proceed.” He broke out into another coughing fit which left him white and gasping for breath. “Please proceed with reinforcing the wall.”

  Tordray looked concerned and offered his arm in support. “Sir, you look exhausted. Would it be for the best if you took a brief rest so that you’ll have the strength to command if there’s trouble. I will keep watch and let you know if anything changes. If there’s a problem the city is going to need you.”

  Jarrul went to refuse but a wave of tiredness made him stagger. “You’re probably right. I’ll be in the guard post below. Wake me in one candle length, or less if anything happens.”

  He made his way shakily down the steep battlement stairs, shivering slightly, and across the guard area in front of the gates. There were beds and a fire in the guard post and it was warm and comfortable. He lay down on one of the two bunks for off duty guardsmen and was asleep in moments.

  Master Zott was more used to counting coins than soldiers, but the moment he stepped out into the fortress’s courtyard he knew there was something wrong. Usually, at that time of day, there would be two guards at each gate and at least a dozen on the walls, but today there were just the two guards at the main gate looking worriedly across at him. He knew that extra guards had been taken to defend the city walls, but to leave the fortress defenceless was not acceptable. He hurried over to the two guards who looked relieved to see him, and when asked, confirmed his suspicion that they had all been taken to accompany Lord Istan, or for the defence of the city wall.

  Zott was reluctant to take the last two guards from the fortress but he needed an escort through the crowds to the city gates, and in any case, two guards were not going to make a lot of difference if an invading army made it as far as the fortress. He set out across the city with the two guards following but he needn’t have bothered about needing them to clear a path for him; the city was deserted. Instead of the usual mid-day bustle as workers bought hot and cold food from roadside stalls for their lunch, the roads were empty and the stalls were missing. In the market square the stalls, which were put up each morning and taken down at night, were deserted, and all the shops, which at this time of day should have been doing a lively trade, were boarded up. Even the inns were closed, although the noise from behind the shuttered windows as he passed suggested that this was where the market stall holders had taken refuge.

  He reached the city gates with his two guards still following him and took the steep stairs to the battlements, two at a time, arriving at the top of the city wall out of breath. Zott took a quick look along the wall and was pleased to see it was well manned, although he didn’t recognise many of the men who stood there. That wasn’t a great surprise to him; he had little to do with the military except to make sure there was sufficient coin in the treasury to pay them. He joined Captain Tordray at the edge of the bastion and looked out, feeling a sudden alarm at what he saw.

  “Where’s Lord Istan?”

  “He’s out there, sir, with the royal party riding towards us.”

  Zott peered out and blinked several times trying to refocus his eyes on the approaching riders. “What’s going on, Captain? Why are they all coming this way?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  Zott blinked again and stepped back in alarm. “There’s something wrong! Captain Tordray, can’t you see that something is wrong with Istan and the Guildmaster, they are all blurred.” The captain said nothing but waited whilst Zott stared at him in confusion. “Where is Master Jarrul?”

  “He’s asleep, sir.”

  “Quick! Sound the alarm! Order the bow men to fire!”

  “Sorry, sir, I can’t do that,” Tordray stepped forward smartly and Zott gave a loud grunt of pain collapsing with a knife caught between his
ribs.

  Behind him the two guards went down with their throats cut and all along the wall the city and fortress guards died, many without drawing their weapons, as men loyal to Malingar and Northshield took their cue from captain Tordray. He watched in satisfaction and then returned his attention back to the riders approaching the main gate. Zott had been right; Istan and the Guildmaster did look blurred. He laughed to himself and called down for the gates to be opened.

  *

  Jonderill stormed into the room without knocking, his eyes dark with anger and his fists clenched. “Out! I need to speak to your master in private.”

  Allowyn bristled, his sword already half drawn, but Callabris shook his head. “It’s all right Allowyn; despite Jonderill’s rudeness, I don’t think he means to do me any harm.” Allowyn reluctantly sheathed his sword and left, giving Jonderill a warning look before quietly closing the door behind him.

  “What did you do to them?” demanded Jonderill.