by Susan Murray
Vasic sat on the throne where her husband’s place had once been. Alwenna recognised Hames standing off to one side. The petty administrator must have wasted no time making himself useful to his new employer. Vasic tensed, straightening in his seat as she crossed the floor. His fingers gripped the arms of the throne more than necessary. It seemed her first impression had been all she could hope for.
She stopped three paces away from the throne, inclined her head for a moment, then stood tall and straight as before. Drew padded up to take his place beside her and knelt there, his head bowed.
Vasic’s eyes remained fixed on her.
She sensed the handful of advisors in the room hoped to see her make obeisance before Vasic. Doubtless a deal of money was about to change hands on the outcome of this meeting. Courtiers were ever fond of gambling, regardless of who sat on the throne. Alwenna waited as the tension in the room built.
Vasic’s brow furrowed.
She let her lips curl in a hint of a smile, visible to no one in the room but Vasic. A hint of a smile, spiced with a tinge of derision. “Well, cousin. I see you style yourself king of the whole Peninsula these days?”
Vasic’s eyes narrowed. “Curb your insolence, madam, and kneel before your king.”
His words echoed round the chambers. Alwenna was aware of a movement from Hames, at the very edge of her vision.
“You may sit on the throne today, cousin, but you are no king. You are nothing but a usurper. That throne is mine: by right, by law, and by popular support.”
A murmur ran around the room.
Vasic’s lips curled in a sneer. “You were ever headstrong, Alwenna. I was led to believe our cousin taught you the semblance of manners, but it seems reports were exaggerated.”
“Manners, cousin? You dare talk of manners?” Alwenna heard a nervous intake of breath from Drew as she marshalled her anger, combining it by instinct with some eldritch strength she’d scarcely known she possessed until this moment. “You summon me before you with my hands bound like a common thief, without offering water to wash or refreshment of any kind.” She raised her voice so it rang about the chamber. “Like a common thief. I am not the one who presumes to sit on a stolen throne. I am not the one who tortured the rightful king on the rack to learn the whereabouts of his wife. I am not the coward who killed his own kinsman by slipping a knife between his ribs while he was bound there. I am not the one who consigned his body to an unmarked grave with hundreds of his loyal citizens. I am none of those things, cousin, but I am the one who will call you to account for every one of your misdeeds.”
She couldn’t hold the room in silence any longer, and for a moment feared she would lose consciousness as she heard men-at-arms rushing to restrain her from either side. But as soon as they touched her they fell back in fear and she felt her strength return.
Vasic watched her in fascination, as one might study a swaying cobra that blocked the only exit from a room.
Alwenna smiled. “I am sure, cousin, you did not summon me to discuss that. What is your purpose in calling me here?”
Vasic’s eyes never left her. “Hames, clear the room. I want no one left in here but yourself and two men-at-arms. You may wait by the far door.”
“Your highness.” Hames bowed lower than ever and the room emptied. Drew got up from his knees but Alwenna set her hand upon his shoulder. “Stay, Drew. You will be safer here with me, I think.”
Drew gave her a wide-eyed glance, but he nodded. She could tell he thought she was playing an unnecessarily dangerous game.
Vasic glared at the youth. “I ordered the room to be cleared.”
“Cousin, just as you have no wish to be alone in the room with me, I have no wish to be alone with you and your men. And I know you are not without clemency.”
“Then let him stand at the far end of the room.”
Alwenna nodded at Drew and he obeyed, setting himself apart from Vasic’s men who were stationed before the door.
“Well, cousin, here we are, just the two of us. It is quite like old times. Will you unbind my hands now so we may talk like civilised human beings?”
“It may suit my purposes better to keep you tied, Alwenna.” He let his eyes run over her body from head to toe, lingering over her curves with a return of his insolent bravado.
“I had hoped the passage of time might have wrought an improvement in your attitude, cousin. It would seem I was overly optimistic. It is of little import.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Tell me why you have brought me here.”
Vasic’s brows snapped together. “You are my prisoner. I ask the questions.”
“As you wish, cousin.” She stood before him, tall, proud, unconcerned. She would show him no weakness.
Vasic glanced beyond her to the silent onlookers at the far end of the room. “Hames, bring me the letter from Vorrahan.” Hames hurried up the hall and passed him a sheet of parchment. Vasic re-read the letter while Hames, now somewhat breathless, hastened back to his place.
“You may be interested to learn news of your escapades has already reached us here at Highkell.” Vasic glanced at Alwenna; she took care not to react. “I fear Father Garrad lays some serious charges at your door.” He frowned. “This does not surprise you?”
“Father Garrad promised me sanctuary, then betrayed me. I doubt I could be surprised by any lies he might concoct now.”
“Indeed? He reports that while at Vorrahan you lived under the same roof as a common soldier, without servant or chaperone to preserve decency.”
“I was obliged to live in the lodgings Father Garrad provided. He claimed it was safer, being within the precinct walls.”
“I have only your word for that.” Vasic shrugged. “He further informs me that not content with the attentions of a common soldier, you turned the head of a young novice, name of Brother Drew, and seduced him from his vows of abstention.” He let his eyes flick across the room to where the youth stood.
“Brother Drew was as sickened by Father Garrad’s treachery as I was myself.”
“Father Garrad is a loyal subject – you ought not speak against him in that way. Further, you stole two horses, one grey and one bay, both in care of the precinct at Vorrahan. And further still, you caused a fire to be started to cover your escape, destroying precinct property and endangering lives.”
“We did no such thing. We came upon two brothers in the stable intent on breaking their vows. They had brought a candle with them and set it down in the straw.”
“The community at Vorrahan has long been famed for its piety. Your influence there was baleful.”
“And the charges Garrad levels against me are laughable.” She forced her voice to remain perfectly even, perfectly calm. “Come to the point, cousin. I weary of your conversation as fast as ever I did in my youth.”
“I see you are determined to make light of these matters. Your arrogance has brought you low, Lady Alwenna.” He leaned forward, gripping the arms of the throne until his knuckles whitened. This, then, was to be the crux of the matter. “I am prepared to be lenient. I am prepared to overlook your past mistakes and grant you a pardon for these crimes. I am prepared to allow you to take the place you wrongfully claim is yours by right. All this I am prepared to grant, on the single condition that you become my wife.”
There it was, out in the open at last. “A generous offer indeed, cousin, but one I cannot accept – not while honest men who served my late husband remain immured in the dungeons here. My conscience will not permit me to take my place here in luxury while they suffer.”
“Madam!” Vasic rose to his feet. “You are in no position to bargain with me.”
“As you wish, cousin. But your impassioned entreaties leave me unmoved.” She doubted he would even notice her sarcasm. “I cannot accept the terms you offer.”
“Damn it, you witch, you’ll do as you’re told.”
“No. As long as the people who served me and my late husband suffer the consequences of their loyalty, I shall n
ot accept your terms.”
Vasic sank back onto his throne, speaking through gritted teeth in a low voice that only she could hear. “You forget your place here, madam. I am prepared to tolerate your presence, despite your arrogance. I am prepared to overlook your whoring. I am prepared to deal graciously with you. You are in no position to bargain with me – this letter details complaints of such severity I could have you executed for the heresies you committed at Vorrahan.”
“Such are the decisions a man must take if he would be king. I wish you and your conscience joy of them, cousin.” She smiled then, certain of what she must do. “Have your men lead me to the deepest dungeon. Let the people speak my name only in whispers lest they conspire against you. Spill my blood and see how it earns you their fear. You will never earn their respect, nor their loyalty. Harm me and you will inspire nothing but contempt in the people you would call your own. Take the throne on those terms and see what accursed blessings rain down upon you.”
“Enough!” Vasic jumped to his feet. “Hames, secure the Lady Alwenna in her former quarters. Put a double guard at the door and ensure she has no means of escape. Whatever vile lies she may utter against the crown, let it be seen that I am merciful. I do not seek to silence her permanently, even though that lies entirely within my power as king of this realm. I understand the grief of a widow for her husband. I can see it has driven her wits from her to speak so; let us hope time brings a return to reason for the poor, afflicted creature. As for her lapdog of a monk, toss him in the dungeon. I’ll deal with him later.”
Alwenna twisted round in time to see two men-at-arms enclose Drew in their grip and drag him from the room. She turned her attention back to Vasic as more soldiers advanced up the room.
“As you wish, cousin. Let the people see which one of us is a stranger to reason. Continue as you are and history will be left in no doubt.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Weaver was still awake when Curtis opened the door to the dungeon and sent Drew into the chamber. Curtis nudged the former novice as he released his bonds and nodded his head towards Weaver. “You’ll know yon fella, from the tales I’ve heard.”
Drew blinked, disorientated in the dim light.
Curtis lowered his voice to a murmur. “He’ll see you right, lad.” He laid a reassuring hand on Drew’s shoulder, causing the youth to flinch. As the door closed behind Curtis a deeper darkness enfolded the prisoners until their eyes adjusted.
Drew picked his way across the chamber, stumbling as he caught his foot on something – or someone. He was breathing hard by the time he joined Weaver and hunkered down against the wall at his side. “Goddess, this place gives me the chills. How fare you, Weaver?”
“I’ve been worse, brother. What of you? I’m sorry you have to join us in our filth.”
“Brother no more. I’ve forsaken those vows. The precinct is tainted by corruption and I want none of it.” He paused, easing his wrists where the bonds had cut into his flesh on the journey there. “She knew you’d been captured. The night after you left.”
No need to ask who “she” was. “You travelled with her from Vorrahan?”
“Aye. We took a boat from the beach.”
“There are some you should know here.” Weaver indicated the wiry man sitting on his right. “This is Lyall, who served with me in The Marches, long before I joined the King’s Men.”
“I warned him no good would come of befriending a king, but he was too wooden-headed to listen.” Lyall’s voice carried the accent of the Outer Isles. “You’ll have noticed that, I daresay.”
Drew smiled. “Aye. That, and the hollow legs to keep his balance.”
Weaver snorted. “And now you’re done maligning me, young Drew, you should also know Blaine. He did some handy work with his battle axe at Vorland Pass. He has more tales to tell about that than I have.”
Blaine was tall and raw-boned; if he’d been better fed of late he’d be a huge man. He grinned, his teeth disconcertingly bright in the dim room. “If there’s free drink to be had, I have the tales to tell.”
“An honour.” The lad sounded overwhelmed.
“What news from outside, Drew? We’ve heard nothing but rumours.” Weaver wasn’t sure yet whether to trust the lad or treat him as a potential traitor.
“Father Garrad betrayed you both.” The youth’s voice shook on the last word – anger or fear? It was hard to be sure. “I overheard him speaking to Brother Irwyn – I was keeping an ear open like you said – saying Vasic’s men were on the way. We didn’t reckon on meeting them on the road. It was as if they knew where we’d be.” He gazed into the middle distance, sounding defeated. “And now it was all for nothing.”
Weaver leaned forward, so his voice might not be overheard by the room at large. “Not so. By escaping you’ve discredited Garrad.”
“We were called before Vasic. He questioned the Lady Alwenna about our escape, but he already knew everything. He had a letter from Father Garrad. I saw his signature, I’d know it anywhere.” Drew fell silent for a moment. “Garrad claimed we set fire to the stables, but it wasn’t us. Two of the brethren had taken a candle into the stables with them. But that’s by the by. He accused Alwenna of stealing horses – that was my doing. One was yours – it’s here at Highkell now, in Vasic’s stables.”
“It can’t be helped now, lad.”
“That’s not the worst of it. Garrad has accused the lady of base conduct – with you, and with me. He claims she caused me to forsake my vows. And he made much of the fact you shared the same roof at the precinct.”
Weaver cursed inwardly. “And no doubt it’ll suit Vasic to accept Father Garrad’s version of events?”
“Aye, he seemed well pleased with what was written in that letter. Lies, all of it. Except for the horses,” he added, scrupulously honest.
Weaver rested his head back against the wall. There was nothing he could do about any of it. “If I ever win free of this place I’ll find Garrad and make him pay for every word of it.”
Blaine laughed, deep and low. “You’ve changed your tune, Weaver. As I recall you were sick of kicking your heels at court while the king bedded his spoilt new wife.”
Weaver shrugged, glad for the poor light at that moment. “I misjudged her. She’s not the spoilt child I once thought.”
“Really? High praise from you.” Blaine hesitated. “And the witchery?”
“She has it, sure enough, though I don’t know the half of it.”
“Old Gwydion told me…’ Drew hesitated.
“Well?” Weaver prompted.
“He told me he’d seen none with such power as she has. He meant to spend time teaching her… but he became too ill. He’d chosen me to receive his legacy, if the Lady Alwenna had not reached Vorrahan in time. After that day in the cavern I was thankful it wasn’t me.”
“You knew what he was about to do?” Weaver failed to make the question sound casual.
“Not that day, no. I swear it.” Drew shifted nervously. “He spoke so often of the need to prepare for it.”
“And you can still set store by that crazy old man’s ramblings?”
“I see now Father Garrad did much to discredit Gwydion during his time at Vorrahan – he was subtle, with his cheery manner. And it must have been easy, for Gwydion was always uneasy in company. He knew so much of everyone’s thoughts, you see…”
Did that mean Alwenna could do the same? Weaver didn’t ask that question. If she’d been able to read his thoughts all this time he was better not knowing.
CHAPTER FORTY
Alwenna soaked in the tub of warm water in her chamber. This was the one luxury of Highkell she’d truly missed. Set before a roaring fire and filled almost to the brim, it was a far cry from the shallow tub provided at Vorrahan by servants always pressed for time. The water eased her aches and pains, soothing wrists rubbed raw by the dirty leather straps she’d been bound with, dissolving away the grime from the journey until nothing remained but her anger
against Vasic. That anger still burned, but slowly now, contained despite her frustration at having travelled full circle at such great cost.
She’d learned much at Vorrahan – things far beyond Vasic’s comprehension. Unfortunately, her own understanding of them as yet might not greatly outstrip her cousin’s. But she sensed this confrontation with Vasic had been bound to come. Perhaps it was better now, while Tresilian’s child still remained hidden within her womb. Safe, where none would think to seek – not yet, while she did not show. The sickness was passing, just as Wynne had predicted. Poor Wynne. Gone, as was Tresilian. Vasic had to be brought to account. She shivered. The water in the tub had cooled as she was lost in thought.
Alwenna stood up and stepped out of the tub. Still shivering, she dried herself quickly and threw on the shift a silent servant girl had left ready. Alwenna huddled beneath the bedcovers until the girl had cleared away the bathtub. As soon as the door closed behind the servant Alwenna hurried across the chamber to lock the door, only to discover she had no key. She opened the door and called after the girl.
“Where is the key to this door? There should be one.”
The girl looked round, startled, then shook her head. “I don’t know, my lady. I haven’t seen one. Will that be all, my lady?”
“Yes, that’s all.” The girl wasn’t one of the previous staff at Highkell. She seemed to be hard-working, but went about her duties with little joy. Vasic would have surrounded himself with people who were beholden to him, so Alwenna was disinclined to trust any of the servants. As she closed the door once more, she realised that line of thought raised interesting questions about the steward, Hames, who’d been a minor clerk during Tresilian’s reign. Had he been Vasic’s man all that time?
Before Alwenna climbed back into her bed she tied the door latch down with a belt, and slid a chair against it for good measure. She went over to snuff the candle that stood on the wooden kist next to the door, and noticed the wall-hanging above it: a small hunting scene she’d worked herself. How many hours had she spent bent over that? Tresilian’s father had still been alive then and had pronounced it an accomplished piece. She ran a hand over the stitching, her fingertips tracing the irregularities where she’d unpicked a detail so often that the canvas had stretched, or finished a figure clumsily. How long since she’d completed it? Two years, or three? It might as well have been a lifetime ago.