‘Evanlyn? Why should she go?’ Halt asked. He saw the girl shrink back from the young Skandian. Maybe she had some premonition of what was to come.
‘The council’s about her,’ Hodak said awkwardly. ‘Slagor has invoked Ragnak’s Vallasvow. He says the girl is really Princess Cassandra, daughter of King Duncan.’
There was a low mutter of interest from the assembled crowd as the five companions followed Hodak into the Main Hall. At the head of the room, Ragnak sat on his massive, carved chair. Beside, and slightly behind him, Will recognised the slightly stooped form of Slagor, as the treacherous Jarl leant down to whisper something to Ragnak. The Oberjarl angrily waved him away, then gestured towards Evanlyn, who was trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible behind Erak.
‘Bring her forward!’ Ragnak’s massive voice, used to dominating the howling gales of the Stormwhite, boomed painfully in the low-ceilinged Hall. Evanlyn shrank back, instinctively, then recovered as Halt touched her arm and met her eyes with a reassuring smile. She straightened her shoulders and drew herself up to full height. Will watched in admiration as she walked down the cleared space in the centre of the Hall. Halt, Erak and the two apprentices followed close behind her. Horace, Will noticed, was continually easing his sword in its scabbard, lifting it to free the blade, then allowing it to drop back again. As he noticed, Will’s own hand strayed to the hilt of his throwing knife. If things went as badly as they all feared, he decided that knife was for Slagor. Once before, on Skorghijl, Will had demonstrated his skill with the knife to Erak’s and Slagor’s crews, throwing across the room and skewering a small wooden keg next to Slagor’s hand. This time, there would be no keg.
The room watched in utter silence as Evanlyn stopped before Ragnak’s raised dais.
She met the Oberjarl’s glower with a calm, composed expression on her face. Again, Will found himself almost overwhelmed by her courage and her composure. Slagor signed to a pair of attendants by a side door.
‘Bring in the slave,’ he called. His voice was soft and silky, totally unlike Ragnak’s forceful bellow. He sounded very pleased with the current turn of events, Will thought. The two men, rowers from Slagor’s crew, opened the door and dragged in a protesting, weeping figure. She was a middle-aged woman, her hair greying and her face lined before its time with the strain of unending labour, poor food and the threat of constant punishment that was the lot of a slave in Hallasholm. The sailors dragged her forward and cast her down on the floor in front of Evanlyn. She crouched there miserably, her eyes down.
‘Look up, slave,’ Slagor told her in that same quiet voice. Her sobbing continued and she shook her head, her eyes still cast down at the floor. Slagor moved quickly, stepping down from the platform and drawing his saxe knife in one smooth movement. He held the razor-sharp blade below the woman’s chin, pressing into the flesh of her neck with not quite sufficient force to break the skin.
‘I said, “look up”,’ he repeated, and applied pressure to the knife to raise her eyes until she was gazing at Evanlyn. As she saw the girl, the woman began sobbing even louder.
‘Shut up,’ Slagor told her. ‘Shut up that noise and tell the Oberjarl what you told me.’
There were angry weals across the woman’s face. Obviously, she had been beaten recently. Her ragged shift was torn in several spots as well, and more red marks were visible on her body through the gaps. In some places, blood had soaked through the thin material. Her tear-filled eyes pleaded with Evanlyn.
‘I’m sorry, my lady,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘They beat me until I told.’
Evanlyn took an involuntary step towards her. But Slagor’s knife swung up and round to confront her and stop her coming closer. Beside him, Will heard Horace’s quick intake of breath and saw his hand fall to the sword hilt once more. He placed his own hand over Horace’s, stopping him from drawing the sword. The heavily built apprentice looked round at him, surprised. Will shook his head slightly. He realised that Horace’s movement had been a reflex reaction and he knew that in this tinderbox atmosphere, if his friend ever drew that sword it could mean the end of all of them.
‘Not yet.’ He mouthed the words. If the time came, he was willing to join Horace in an attack on Slagor and Ragnak. But first, he thought, they should see if Halt couldn’t talk their way out of this situation.
‘Leave the talking to me,’ the Ranger had told them before they left his apartment. ‘And don’t do anything until I tell you. Clear?’
The two boys had nodded. Then Halt had added: ‘This puts an altogether different slant on our accusing Slagor, of course.’
‘But surely you’re still going to tell Ragnak?’ Will had burst out. Halt shook his head doubtfully.
‘The problem is, he’s got in first. If we make a counter accusation now, it will look as if we’re simply doing it to save Evanlyn. Chances are, Ragnak will ignore it altogether.’
‘But you can’t let him get away with …’ Will began, but Halt held up a hand to silence him.
‘I’m not letting him get away with anything,’ he reassured them. ‘We’ll just have to pick the right time to bring the matter up, that’s all.’
Now, Slagor turned back to the woman on the floor. ‘Tell the Oberjarl,’ he repeated.
The woman said nothing and Slagor turned to Ragnak in exasperation. ‘My head slave overheard her talking to some of the others,’ he explained. ‘She’s Araluan originally and she said she recognised this girl here …’ He jerked a thumb in Evanlyn’s direction. ‘As the Princess Cassandra – Duncan’s daughter.’
Ragnak’s eyes narrowed and he turned slightly to inspect Evanlyn. Her chin went up and she stood a little taller under his gaze.
‘She does have something of the look of Duncan about her,’ he said suspiciously.
‘No! No! I was mistaken!’ the slave burst out suddenly. On her knees, she stretched her hands out to Slagor in supplication. ‘Now I see her close to, I realise I was wrong, Lord Slagor. I was mistaken!’
‘You called her “my lady”,’ Slagor reminded her.
‘It was a mistake, that was all. A mistake. Now I see her properly, I can tell it’s not her,’ the woman insisted. Slagor regarded her with a pained expression on his face. He turned to Ragnak again. ‘She’s lying, Oberjarl,’ he said. ‘I’ll have my men beat the truth out of her.’
He made a signal to the two men again and one of them came forward, uncoiling a short, thick whip as he came. The woman cringed away from him.
‘No! Please, my lord, please!’ Her voice was shrill with fear as she tried to crawl away. Slagor’s man grabbed a handful of her hair to stop her and she cried out again, in pain as well as fear. He raised the vicious-looking whip over his head, ready to bring it down.
‘Leave her alone!’ Evanlyn cried, and her voice froze the sailor where he stood. He looked uncertainly to Slagor for direction, but the wolfship captain was watching Evanlyn, waiting for her to say more.
‘All right,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m Cassandra. There’s no need to torture her further.’
The silence in the room was almost a physical force. Then an excited buzz broke out among the assembled crowd. Will distinctly heard the words ‘Vallasvow’ from several different sources.
‘Silence!’ roared Ragnak and instantly the noise ceased. He rose and moved forward to confront Evanlyn, glaring down at her. ‘You are Duncan’s daughter?’
She hesitated, then replied.
‘I am King Duncan’s daughter,’ she said, with a slight emphasis on his title. ‘Cassandra, Princess of Araluen.’
‘Then you are my enemy,’ he said, spitting the words out. ‘And I’ve sworn that you should die.’
Erak stepped forward. ‘And I’ve sworn that she will be safe here, Oberjarl,’ he said. ‘I gave my word when I asked the Ranger to help us.’
Ragnak looked up angrily. Again there was a buzz of conversation through the room. Erak was a popular jarl among the Skandians and Ragnak hadn’t reckoned on h
aving to contend with him over this matter. With an invading army only days away from his stronghold, he knew he couldn’t afford a split with his senior war leader.
‘I am Oberjarl,’ he said. ‘My vow is of greater importance.’
Erak folded his arms across his chest. ‘Not to me it isn’t,’ he said, and there was a chorus of agreement from the crowd.
‘Erak cannot defy you like this! You are Oberjarl!’ Slagor suddenly interjected. ‘Have him imprisoned! He is defying your vow to the Vallas!’
‘Shut up, Slagor,’ Erak told him, in an ominously calm voice. Then he re-addressed himself to Ragnak. ‘I didn’t ask you to take your death vow, Ragnak,’ he said. ‘But if you want to carry it out, I’m afraid you’ll have to go through me to do it.’
Now Ragnak stepped down from his podium, and walked closer to where Erak stood. They were of equal height, both massively built. He faced his old companion, the anger burning in his eyes.
‘Erak, did you know? Did you know who she was when you brought her here?’
Erak shook his head.
Slagor snorted in disgust. ‘Of course he knew!’ he cried, then stopped suddenly as the point of Erak’s dagger appeared under his nose.
‘I’ll allow that once,’ Erak told him. ‘Say it again and you’re a dead man.’
Wordlessly, Slagor backed away from the bigger man, putting a safe distance between himself and the point of the knife. Erak sheathed the dagger and turned back to Ragnak. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I would never have brought her here, knowing of your vow. But the fact remains, I vouched for her safety and my word is all-important to me – as is yours to you.’
‘Damn and blast it, Erak!’ Ragnak shouted. ‘The Temujai are only three or four days’ march from here! We can’t afford to be fighting amongst ourselves now!’
‘It would be a shame if you had to face the Temujai with at least one, and possibly both, of your best leaders dead,’ Halt put in mildly and the Oberjarl rounded on him in a fury.
‘Shut up, Ranger! I’m of half a mind to believe that this is all your doing! No good ever came of dealing with your kind!’
Halt shrugged, unimpressed by the Skandian’s fury. ‘Be that as it may,’ he said, ‘it occurs to me that there might be a solution to your problem – for the time being, at least.’
The buzz of conversation through the room was cut short as Ragnak swung his gaze around angrily. He watched Halt with narrowed eyes, expecting some trick or some kind of subterfuge.
‘What are you talking about? My vow is binding upon me,’ he said and Halt nodded agreement.
‘I understand that. But is there any time factor involved?’ he asked. Now Ragnak looked puzzled as well as suspicious.
‘Time factor? How do you mean?’
‘If we accept that you plan to do your best to kill Evanlyn, knowing that Erak will try to stop you when you do – not to mention the fact that if he doesn’t, I most certainly will – have you vowed that you’ll do it at any particular time?’ Halt continued.
The puzzled expression on Ragnak’s face grew more intense.
‘No. I didn’t specify any time. I just made the vow,’ he said finally and Halt nodded several times.
‘Good. So, as far as these Vallas are concerned, they don’t care whether you try to fulfil your vow today or if you choose to wait until, say, after we’ve sent the Temujai packing?’
Understanding was beginning to dawn on the Oberjarl’s face. ‘That’s right,’ he said slowly. ‘As long as the intent is there, the Vallas will be satisfied.’
‘No!’ a shrill voice cut across them. It was Slagor, the silky, self-satisfied tones gone from his voice now. ‘Can’t you see, Oberjarl, he’s trying to trick you? He has something in mind. The girl must die and she must die now! Otherwise your sworn word is worthless!’ Slagor’s anger, and his long-held desire for revenge on Evanlyn for the events that had occurred on Skorghijl had caused him to go too far. Ragnak turned on him now, a flame of anger burning in his eyes.
‘Slagor, I would advise you to get rid of this reckless habit of telling your peers that they are liars,’ he said and instantly the wolfship captain retracted his accusation.
‘Of course, Oberjarl. I didn’t mean –’
Ragnak cut him off before he could go further.
‘My first concern is for the safety of Skandia. With these Temujai on our doorstep, Erak and I cannot afford to be fighting. If he’ll agree to postpone our differences until after we’ve settled with them, then I will too.’
Erak nodded agreement instantly. ‘It sounds like a good compromise to me.’
There was still one thread of suspicion in Ragnak’s mind. He turned back to Halt, his heavy brows knitted together in a frown.
‘I can’t help wondering what’s in it for you, Ranger. All you’ve done is win a postponement.’
Halt inclined his head slightly to one side as he considered the matter. ‘True,’ he replied. ‘But a lot can happen in the next few days. You might be killed in the battle. Or Erak. Or me. Or all three of us. Beside that, my immediate priority is the same as yours: to see these Temujai driven back. After all, if they win here, it won’t be long before they’re invading Araluen as well. I have a sworn duty to try to prevent that.’ He smiled grimly. ‘That’s another of those vows that we all seem to rush around taking. Damned nuisances, aren’t they?’
Ragnak turned and stepped back up on the dais to his massive council chair.
‘We’re agreed then,’ he said. ‘We’ll settle the Temujai question first. Then we’ll come back to this problem.’
Erak and Halt exchanged glances, then both men nodded. Only Slagor seemed to be in disagreement with the compromise. He muttered a curse under his breath. Halt took Evanlyn’s arm and began to guide her from the Great Hall, followed by the two apprentices and Erak. They hadn’t gone half a dozen paces when Halt turned back to Ragnak.
‘Of course, there is one more question that I’d like to hear Slagor answer,’ he said. As he hoped, at the mention of his name, everyone in the room involuntarily glanced at Slagor. Then, when all eyes were on him, Halt continued.
‘Perhaps he could tell us what his ships are doing at Fallkork Island?’
Everyone was watching him, so everyone saw Slagor’s guilty start of surprise when Halt mentioned the name of the island. Slagor recovered quickly, but the moment had been there and it had been witnessed.
‘I’m not here to answer to you, Ranger!’ he blustered angrily. ‘You have no authority in this Council!’
Erak stepped forward, rocking on his heels, his face only centimetres from Slagor’s.
‘But I have,’ he told the other man. ‘And I’d like to hear your answer too.’
‘What’s this about, Erak?’ Ragnak interrupted, before Slagor could reply. Erak kept his gaze fixed on Slagor.
‘Two of Slagor’s ships are currently at Fallkork Island,’ he replied. ‘In another day, he plans to rendezvous with them and sail down the coast to Sand Creek Bay.’
Erak saw the colour draining from Slagor’s face as he realised that his plans had been discovered. He continued inexorably, his voice rising in volume as Slagor attempted to speak, drowning the other man out. ‘There, he plans to embark one hundred and fifty Temujai warriors, and land them behind our lines to attack us from the rear.’
The room erupted as people began to shout, all at once. In vain, Slagor spat abuse at Erak and protested his innocence. His followers in the Hall, and there were more than a few, roared their protests, while those who favoured Erak roared back, calling for Slagor’s head. The bedlam continued for a full minute until Ragnak rose from his seat.
‘Silence!’ he bellowed.
In the ensuing quiet, you could almost hear a pin drop.
‘How do you know this?’ the Oberjarl asked. He disliked Slagor. Many of the Skandians did. But the concept of such treachery was so absolutely abhorrent to the simple Skandian code of conduct that Ragnak found it impossi
ble to believe it of anyone, even Slagor.
‘His plans were overheard, Ragnak,’ Erak told him.
Instantly Slagor was screaming his innocence. ‘This is lies! It’s a pack of filthy lies! Who heard me? Who claims I’m a traitor? Let them face me now!’
‘As a matter of fact, Ragnak,’ said Halt, raising his voice so that he was heard clearly in every corner of the room, ‘the informant is here with us.’
That piece of news stilled Slagor’s protests immediately. Ragnak eyed the Ranger with distaste. Since he had arrived in Hallasholm, the comfortable, established order of things had been continually disturbed.
‘Then let’s hear from him,’ the Oberjarl said.
‘Not him, Ragnak. Her. The informant is Evanlyn. Perhaps that’s why Slagor is so keen to have her discredited and killed.’
Uproar once again filled the room and Will realised how cleverly Halt had played this hand. In the confusion of the moment, nobody asked the obvious question: how could Slagor have known that Evanlyn had discovered his plan? For if he didn’t know, he would have no reason to try to discredit the girl. But now that Halt had planted the seed, the Skandians would all half believe that Slagor’s actions were intended to forestall Evanlyn, rather than the other way around. In that light, her accusation could not be dismissed out of hand. It had to be investigated.
‘Proof!’ Slagor was shouting now, and some of his followers, realising their own necks were close to the headsman’s axe, were shouting it too. ‘Anyone can accuse me! But where’s the proof?’
Ragnak silenced the shouting with a gesture. ‘Well, Ranger,’ he asked Halt, ‘can you offer us proof of these accusations?’
Erak hurriedly stepped into the breach, before Halt had to answer. ‘Svengal is bringing in the two ships from Fallkork,’ he said. ‘He should be in port by tomorrow.’
But now Slagor saw the way out, saw there was no concrete evidence of the plan. ‘So two of my ships are waiting at Fallkork?’ he cried, his voice shrill once more. ‘What does that prove? How does that make me a traitor? It doesn’t, does it, Erak?’
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