Traitor Blade: (Books 1-3)

by Richard Crawford

  Of course there was a difference. He went in search of Angelo.

  He found him fast asleep, comfortable as a cat, with two girls curled around him. Edouard kicked him until he woke.

  "Get up."

  Angelo shook blond hair from his eyes. "Saints of mercy! What's the matter?"

  "Get up!"

  Turning his back as Angelo extricated himself, he opened one of the shutters, trying to judge the hour. He hoped it was still early. If anyone saw them… he pushed the thought aside and turned back. Angelo was still only half dressed. "Hurry, damn you. I'm not waiting, and I'm not leaving without you."

  For a moment, Angelo glared as if he would argue, and then with a shrug to the girls, he pulled on his boots. He walked forward, pulling his shirt over his head. His lazy smile returned, showing unusual good humor. "I thought you would be in a better mood this morning."

  Edouard turned away, slamming his fist against the doors rather than Angelo's head. The doors boomed as they crashed open. He started down the stairs, leaving behind a chorus of groans.

  The place was deserted. In the early morning light, the courtyard was an overgrown maze. He had no idea where they were, but there was always a point of reference. He looked up to the chateau, high above the town, and turned towards home.

  It was raining and he had no jacket, but he hardly noticed. It was as if he was burning from inside. His head was full of sex and treason. Was what he had done a betrayal? What had he said to Innana? What had she wanted from him? None of it made sense.

  As they wound through the narrow streets, Angelo caught up with him. "What in hell is the matter with you?"

  He did not answer, trying to hold off the anger. Angelo could not have known. He would not have done that to him.

  But Angelo did not like to be ignored. "After a night like that, you should be kissing me. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

  He glanced sideways. "Why did you take me there?"

  Angelo laughed; the sound was loud in the empty street. "Sword's blood. If you need to ask, then you are even stupider than I imagined."

  He had a very strong urge to smash his fist into Angelo's face. Instead, he caught him by the shirt and slammed him up against a wall. "You think I'm stupid?" He held on as Angelo struggled. "When you are the one who thinks those women are nothing more than dancers and whores."

  "What else are they?" Angelo snarled.

  "Spies for Micia of Allesarion," he said. "And likely assassins too."

  Angelo stopped struggling. "I thought that was just a tale, to make them more exotic..."

  "You knew?" Edouard could not believe it.

  "No!" Angelo pushed him off. "One of the merchants told me about them. Said they were dancers, and if you could pay a king's ransom sometimes they," he stopped.

  "What?"

  "It was too easy," he admitted. "Now I think about it. I thought they were impressed because you were …"

  Edouard turned away. Angelo was not stupid and, whatever else he might do, he would not lie about this.

  "Edouard, wait. I had no idea." Angelo caught his arm. "What happened?" he asked. "And what happened to your neck?"

  Edouard reached to feel the cut. "It doesn't matter. Nothing happened." He hoped it was true. "We fucked. She gave me greetings from her Queen. Nothing more."

  Angelo shook his head. "Saints, who would've thought it." He was silent for a moment. "But why would she bother with you? Charles I could understand, but you…"

  "I don't know!" Edouard laughed. It felt good; a sudden release of tension. "Micia is not so clever if she thinks I have any influence. I can't even get leave to join the King's muster." He turned to walk on, still laughing.

  "Your father still won't let you? Damn that's not fair." Angelo was being conciliatory, and that was a first. "There are a dozen going from Chamfort with half your skill." He jabbed an elbow sideways. "Not that you're that good."

  Edouard grunted and shoved him back. "He says I am too young."

  "You are of age. You are good enough, what else matters?"

  The words hit home. He was of age. He did not have to listen to his father. Or better, he would make his father listen to what he wanted. The memory of last night returned and he felt the fire stir in his blood. One thing was certain. If he stayed trapped at Chamfort with all the old men watching him, he would go mad.

  "A hound must hunt, a falcon must fly," he muttered.

  "What?"

  "You're right. I'm going to tell him that I won't stay behind while everyone else of age goes off to fight."

  Angelo was silent for a moment. "You need to have a wash and get changed first," he said.

  They had left the town, the bridge and the cliff road to the chateau lay ahead. Edouard laughed and broke into a run. He waved to the men guarding the bridge. He kept running, leaving Angelo behind. He drove himself up the hill, pushing until his legs and lungs burned. Then he stopped and turned back to stare down over the town. He felt free. It felt so good, and now he knew the answer. To feel like this, all he needed was to escape his father and Chamfort.

  Chapter 7

  Mariette smiled as she walked downstairs from seeing the children to bed. She returned to the solar and settled by the fire with her letters, relishing a new feeling of safety. Montmercy was well guarded, there had been no attacks, and with Rupert's knights to protect her, her confidence had returned.

  She turned back to her letters, writing until the shuffle of Theo's step broke her concentration. It was late; as she set her pen aside, she fought to stifle a sudden anxiety. It was strange how, despite all she had achieved, some little thing could still take her courage and bring the fear crashing back. One thing always soothed her. The gilded miniature close by her hand caught Hugo's likeness uncannily. She lifted the tiny painting, staving off a familiar pang of regret. She looked up as Theo entered.

  Lamplight threw strange shadows, accentuating the steward's bent back. One hand trembled as he bowed. The winter had taken the last of his strength, and age weighed heavily on him now. She was sorry for it, and sorry to know that his last years had sadness and too many cares. He would not give up his work and rest, however often she begged him. "What is it, Theo? Is it Caterine, or Francis?" She had told him she was not to be interrupted and knew he would not bother her unless it was important.

  "The children are well, my lady, but we have visitors."

  The fear seethed inside her, mocking her recent sense of security. She kept her voice light. Her knights would not allow danger into the castle. "It's late. Who would come at this hour?"

  He hesitated and then answered her. "Master Jaime, my lady, and a companion."

  Even as Theo spoke, Jai was there, not waiting for her permission. Aware, no doubt, what her reaction would be. Here was a danger her knights could not guard against.

  "Mariette." He came to a halt before her. His tawny hair was tied back and he wore riding leathers. She had seen him only once since she had sent him away, months before. He was thinner, and the angles of his face had changed, hardened.

  She stood up, one hand braced against the desk to steady herself. The sight of him was like a branding iron against her flesh, and it brought all the memories she held at bay rushing down upon her. It was a moment before she realized he was speaking, repeating words already uttered.

  "Mariette, this is Mathieu. He has traveled a long way to meet you."

  The tone of his voice, the hint of an accusation, fuelled her anger. If there had been a dagger to hand, she would have stabbed him. Instead, she walked forward. "Theo, bring wine and food for our guests."

  Jai bridled at this, but she ignored him to concentrate on his companion. He was not a young man; even by lamplight, strands of silver glittered in his dark brown hair, and there were lines etched around his eyes and mouth. He had a steady gaze, though his eyes were bruised with fatigue. Grudgingly, she thought the set of his mouth promised kindness and honesty. Taller than average, he had the look of a fighting man, thou
gh his stance was relaxed, not arrogant or threatening. It was clear they had ridden far and fast, and for a moment she regretted the welcome he had received. She gestured to a chair by the fire and the man settled quietly. Jai she ignored. He retreated to a window seat.

  "I would not intrude on your grief without good reason, my lady." Mathieu spoke softly, understanding somehow that he must take the lead. But there was no sting to the words. "I have information about your husband's killers."

  Another burst of fear. She hated the feeling of weakness it brought. She laced her fingers together to hide the tremor. "I know what I need to know." It was hard to get the words out. She took a breath. Before he could speak again, she continued, "The Duke was not killed by brigands, but by renegade knights. Prince Rupert has visited the villages; he told me the attacks were not the work of brigands. He thinks that Hugo had discovered this." She let a moment's silence grow, daring Jai to speak. "If these dark knights return to the lands of Montmercy or Broudogne, they will be hunted down. I will not fail as others have."

  Jaime started up from his seat, but it was Mathieu who spoke, soft, uninflected. "The Prince is right; these attacks are the work of trained and provisioned knights. But there is more. I can tell you if you will hear it." He hesitated. "My lady, this is not an easy thing to hear, you must choose."

  "I know it all," she insisted. "He died alone with his men nearby. He called for Jai but rode alone; together, they would have held the knights off. There would have been time for the men to reach him. He need not have died."

  "No," Jai protested. He left the window seat to prowl between the chairs towards them.

  "Jaime." Mathieu's voice held a note of familiarity and command that surprised her. As did Jai's reaction. He retreated, silent, to the window seat. Mathieu was watching her; a frown creased his forehead as if at the pain he caused her.

  She sank into a chair close by him. Already the fear had grown into a thread of uncertainty, cold along her spine. She had learned to live with the truth. She had taken precautions, made sure Montmercy was protected. Vengeance could be planned, anticipated, through the sleepless nights. The miniature was cold against her palm. She glanced down at Hugo's face.

  The pain she had buried returned and the fear. Caterine and Francis, they were all she had left of him. The dark knights had killed her children's father. She was certain they would return. Even as she dreaded it, she had anticipated the day she could take vengeance and end the fear. Now, Jai had brought this man to turn her world upside down again. Her hatred for him renewed. But it was not something she could turn away from. "Tell me," she said.

  Mathieu's knuckles were white, his voice low and flat. "Your master at arms told you the truth, my lady,but for one thing. The knights did not kill your husband."

  A gasp of laughter escaped her, but it was shock that made her hands tremble. "Do you take me for a fool? He has seen the tracks, followed them. He can tell you how many knights remained behind to attack Hugo, how many rode off before. What direction they rode in, where they crossed from Montmercy land..."

  "My lady, please."

  The pain in his voice stopped her tirade. She held herself rigid, the taste of bile in her mouth.

  "The knights are mere servants, tools." Mathieu hesitated. The firelight carved deep lines around his mouth.

  His hesitation enraged her. "Who do they serve?" she demanded. "Hugo had no enemies." She had spent hours searching for this one answer.

  Mathieu's next words were more hesitant, uncertain. "They serve a phantom, a creature of shadow. What it is, no one knows for sure. Very few have seen this creature and survived." He unlaced his fingers and reached to take her hand. "The truth, my lady, is that even alone the Duke would have held long enough for his men to come to his aid against men. But the shadow creature steals men's will so they are helpless when…"

  Silence. A log fell in the fireplace, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Mathieu's hand still gripped hers. She could feel the tension in him, and how much telling the story cost him. His words raised horror within her, and anger, but much as she longed to deny them, she could not believe he was a liar, or a fool. His emotion was too raw, too real. Jai was silent, a motionless shadow by the window, but still his presence irked her.

  She remembered the autumn afternoon he had come to tell her Hugo was dead. She saw Hugo's body, his features twisted into a mask of horror. "How did he die?"

  "I can't tell you, my lady," Mathieu said.

  For the first time, she thought he might be lying, but the truth lay behind his silence, and she was not eager to face it. She could feel his distress; whatever he had seen it was not something easy to live with. "I'm sorry to make you speak of it," she said.

  He shook his head. "I would not trouble you like this, but Jaime has told me of the work you have done, preparations against the return of the shadow knights. You are not alone in this. There are others who have suffered." He took a quick, unsteady breath between the rushed words. "We have formed a compact to fight this evil. But it is hard to track, even following attacks the shadow knights make, and there are other murders too." He released her hand and stood up, turning to the shadows where Jai sat. "Jaime has met other members of the Compact. He will tell you, there is a scope to this thing that is terrifying. At present, we have no power, no voice. We need your help."

  For a moment, she felt as if she were falling. She reached to grasp the chair, curling her fingers tight around the wood. The fear filled her completely. "There are people enough who need my help," she said. "What is it you want from me – money, patronage, influence at court?"

  Mathieu was staring at her, his face blank with surprise. "I don't understand…" He looked to Jai. "My lady, we want you to join us, to stand with us against the shadow."

  "Against your shadow creature? There is nothing I can do." She rose from the chair and started for the door.

  Quick as a cat, Jai sprang up and followed her. He caught her arm, his fingers pinching her skin. He stared at the miniature in her hand. "If you truly cared about him, you would listen."

  She spun and slapped his face as hard as she could. "You dare to say that to me, when you left him alone to die."

  He released her arm and retreated, the mark of her fingers plain on his face, the mark of her words visible in his bruised and haunted gaze. She did not care; he had earned whatever pain he carried. It was nothing to the pain she lived with, would always live with. "Better you had died," she said.

  "My lady." Mathieu moved to stand between her and Jai, breaking the moment. Without looking at him, he said, "Jaime, wait for me outside."

  Jai's retreating footsteps echoed loud in the silence. Gently, Mathieu led her to a chair. He left her for a moment and returned with a glass of brandy. He handed it to her. "I'm sorry," he said and retreated a step.

  Lightheaded, she cradled the glass carefully in one hand, but did not drink. The miniature was in her other palm, Hugo's face strangely unfamiliar. Her rigidly ordered world seemed to be shifting beneath her feet. Again, she felt as if she was falling. "What do you want from me?" The words ended in a sob, a horrible, wrenching noise. She set the glass aside and pressed a hand across her mouth, but she could not make the noise stop.

  When she managed to halt the sobs, Mathieu lifted the glass, encouraging her to sip the brandy. Between gulping breaths, she did so.

  "Shall I leave you, would you like me to call someone, my lady?"

  She shook her head. "Stay. And tell me what you want, so I can understand." It was a plea. He had shaken her safe world apart. He had loosed the fear, but she knew it had been there waiting for her all along.

  Mathieu paused for a moment. "We have come to believe this shadow evil has some plan, that it seeks something more than death and suffering. It spreads fear and unrest, and we wonder if there is method to this. The people are afraid. They suffer at the hands of the shadow knights. That fear and doubt is turned towards their overlords. And the murders…" Another pause. "Th
e men who have died are men who make a difference. Men like Duke Hugo. I do not think it was chance he died that day, my lady. They sought him out."

  It was too much. She spoke before he could say more. "What do you want from me?"

  "Jaime will not go to Fourges, to court." He stated it baldly, as if the conversation tired him too. "If this is about power, and I think it must be, then the answers will be found at King Ferdinand's court."

  She could think of several reasons why Jai would not go to court. It brought her a dark pleasure to hear he lacked courage. Feeling that pleasure, she wondered if Mathieu was trying to manipulate her. "You want me to go to court and spy for you? To leave my daughter and son…" She had never been apart from Caterine.

  He nodded once. "It is for them. Jaime told me that you would want to help."

  It was not manipulation; he was not such a man. She raised a hand to silence him. Her head ached and she felt weak. The thought of leaving Montmercy, returning to court, filled her with dread. The realization that she had been hiding from life filled her with self-loathing. She should have returned long since. She had long known that the shadow knights pillaged beyond Montmercy. Hiding here, she neglected her duties.

  But to return to court, to face the speculation, the politics, the interest her wealth and position would bring. Worse to leave Caterine and Francis, the idea filled her with terror. But she could not remain at Montmercy forever; she could not continue to hide. She glanced down. Hugo had never shirked any responsibility, however unpleasant. Duty and honor. How she had hated those words, but they meant something more now.

  Mathieu rose and stood waiting, his face tight with concern. She felt sorry for him; all he had done was lance a festering wound.

  "I want to hear about this creature. If what you say is true then I have a duty…" A sob rose, choking her.

  He came to her side at once, and she was surprised by the glimmer of matching tears in his eyes. "My lady, it is a burden we can share."