by Dave Duncan
Such problems were not in the regular day’s work for a civilian courier, and Iden frowned for a while as he thought it over.
“No, Sage. Too many witnesses there. Just past Brayford Pool, I’d suspect.”
Gratified because I had already come to the same conclusion, I said, “Excellent. So Eadig and I are going to perform a little magic here to disguise ourselves. We may look blurred or fuzzy, but the main thing is that we shan’t look like ourselves, and if we keep moving fast, we should not be recognized. I hope this won’t alarm the horses. Eadig first. Fac sicut dico!”
The horses barely flicked an ear, even Peregrine, although the genuine Maur must be a lot heavier than Eadig. Iden went so white I feared he would fall out of his saddle in a swoon.
“All right?” I asked. He licked his lips and nodded.
The spell was far from perfect. No one who knew Maur would mistake that facsimile for him, although there was certainly a likeness. That did not matter, because it was even less likely that anyone would see Eadig son of Edwin there either. It was good enough! Then he bespelled me with the same command. Ruffian did sense the change, and shied, but I brought him under control before he alarmed the other two or did any damage. I wondered if I even smelled wrong.
So we went on our way, out of the square and down the hill. Very few people were around yet, just a few humble souls making an early start on their way to the cathedral or one of the other churches. I was busily calculating how I would set up my trap if I were Vernon. I decided I would post some men out of sight somewhere just inside or outside the gate, and the rest some distance along the road, most likely just beyond the Bray-ford Pool, as Iden had suggested. Plus a watcher to identify the quarry as we left town. Then the watcher could rally the first group to follow us and signal to the second group—with a flag or a horn—to block us. We would be trapped with the lake on one side, fences and buildings on the other. So everything rested on whether or not the watcher recognized us.
Even before we reached the town gate, I saw a horse standing there, and a youth behind it leaning against a wall. Soon I was almost certain that he was one of the squires who had ridden with us from Helmdon to Nottingham. If he was, then Vernon might have made a mistake. It should be Vernon himself waiting to make the call in the moments it took us to ride past, for he knew me. Almost all the time during our journey together, Eadig and I had ridden at the rear, and the rest of the troop had not needed to pay us any heed.
Then I realized that I was riding Ruffian and a smart young squire would not have failed to notice so splendid a stallion. To him, my horse would have been far more memorable than my face. I discarded a few delirious thoughts of enchanting Ruffian to look like a mule. I also resisted the urge to turn my head away as we went past the spy—I must trust the magic and leave him in no doubt that I was not the man he was looking for.
Twenty yards along the road I said, “Is that lad with the horse following us?”
Iden glanced back and said, “No.”
We weren’t quite out of the woods yet—or into the woods, which might be a better metaphor. At the far end of Brayford Pool I saw Vernon himself, sitting with another man at the roadside and eating something. He looked at us, but did not react.
“I think we’ve made it,” I said. “Saints be praised!”
It was a fine morning for a ride through a quiet, sleepy England. We pushed the horses as hard as we dared, but Iden was an expert and knew how to get the best out of them. The race was joined at last, but the killers had a three-day start. My sense of urgency ate at me like a canker.
After a couple of hours, our disguises wore off and we were our own handsome selves again.
About then Iden asked cheerfully, “London or Winchester, Your Wisdom?”
“Beaumont Palace. You know it?”
“Aye. Got a good friend lives near there!” He would probably have been happy to lead me to Jerusalem, had I asked him to. When a man performs his labors well, he usually enjoys doing so.
“A female friend, of course?” Eadig demanded.
Iden smiled as smugly as I ever did see. “That’s the only type that interests me.”
“And one in London? Another in Winchester?”
“Can I help it if I’m so lovable?”
“No, but you can give me some lessons on the way.”
I was sure that Iden was bragging, but he certainly had Eadig thinking wistfully.
Iden on a horse was a joy to watch—he fitted there like the top half of a centaur, and the prospect of an exhausting three-day ride obviously inspired him as much as it depressed me. I had thought I knew everything there was to know about horses, but just watching him during our journey together was to teach me a lot about long distance travel.
“Must we take three days?” I asked him soon after we had passed Vernon. “Could we do it in two?”
He studied me for a few minutes as if assessing both me and my horse. “Aye,” he said at last. “I could get you there in two, Sage, but you’ll be no good at all for two days after you arrive. I’ve gone that far in one, but it damned near killed me, and I needed four fresh horses on the way.”
At first we headed south along Ermine Street, the old Roman road that runs past the turnoff to Newark and goes all the way to London, but around noon Iden lead us off on a series of lesser trails that he knew would be passable in this weather. I would never have traveled so fast without his guidance, for I should have had to ask my way at every hamlet and village. He never did. He laughed when I asked if there was a tree in England that he didn’t know.
“Not many, Your Wisdom, but the bushes keep changing.”
Travelers usually overnight at monasteries or with friends, but Iden could do better than that. The first night he led us to an isolated manor owned by Lord Richard, not far from Leicester. There we were made welcome by the steward, fed, wined, and bedded. By then even Ruffian was willing to be grateful.
The second night Iden did almost as well at an estate where he was known. The owners ran a hostelry as a profitable sideline, and we changed our mounts there, on the understanding that we would be coming back the same road in a few days. The country thereabouts had a familiar look, so I asked how far we were from Pipewell. The answer was just, “An easy ride,” and I was sorely tempted to demand a detour, so that I might visit with my mother for the first time since I was fourteen, but to delay for even an hour would have felt like treason by then.
The sun was in the west on the third day when we came in sight of a group of spires, a sure indication of a sizable town ahead. Iden reined in at a junction.
“Oxford, Your Wisdom. And that way leads to Beaumont Palace. You and the adept want to put your capes on now, sir?”
I was weary, sore, and as dusty as a threshing floor, but the sudden prospect of unexpectedly dropping in on the queen of England concentrated my mind. I agreed that capes would be a good idea.
Iden was as grimy as I was, but he showed a perfect set of teeth in a smile. “Then if I call on you in the morning for orders, that would be agreeable?” Judging by the lecherous gleam in his eyes, he had not been bragging about at least one of his girlfriends.
“Certainly.” I hoped that I would not have to do any hard riding for several days.
“Give her my love, too,” Eadig said.
“Never. Mine is as all she can possible want.” Laughing, Iden rode off along the town road, looking as fresh as he had at dawn. Eadig and I headed for the palace.
chapter 26
beaumont Palace, known locally as the King’s House, is not a castle, but any royal palace will be surrounded by a high wall and have guards on duty at the gatehouse. Important visitors, having sent harbingers ahead to arrange a reception fitting their station, will arrive with an armed escort. Thus the guards could hardly be expected to extend a warm welcome to two unknown young strangers turning up unexpectedly close to sunset. I was well aware that there must be a servants’ entrance somewhere else with a doorstep we cou
ld sleep upon until morning.
Asking whether the queen was in residence was not likely to elicit a straight answer, and few men-at-arms can read, so I simply held up Lord Richard’s letter with the seal dangling on its ribbon, and demanded urgent audience with Her Grace. We might have been in serious trouble if my enchantment had deceived me and Queen Eleanor was somewhere far away. To my relief, the seal worked its own magic and a gate was opened for us.
Back then Beaumont Palace comprised several buildings of various sizes and ages, some of stone, some of wood. The grounds were shaded by giant beeches and patrolled by conceited peacocks, although they had much less to show off with than they would have had a few months earlier. Hostlers came running to take charge of Ruffian and Peregrine; porters followed, to carry our baggage. It was all very efficient. An elegant young man in grandiose livery solidified out of nowhere to bow and inquire my name and station.
“Sage Durwin of Helmdon, to see Her Grace on a matter of great urgency.” I proffered Lord Richard’s letter.
He unrolled it and read it through in a fast mumble. Then he regarded me with spine-chilling suspicion. “This says that you were sent to the Earl of Leicester.”
“If his lordship is also present to hear my news, then even better. I asked first for Queen Eleanor because she knows me personally. In the past she has commissioned me to cast horoscopes for her sons.” Specifically one, count them, one sons, one horoscopes.
That claim produced a frosty stare, but my steadfast innocence under it eventually thawed the ice. “Then if you would be so good as to step this way, Your Wisdom.”
After three days in the saddle I could barely stagger, let alone prance as he did, but we followed along him a paved path to the largest building in sight. We mounted three steps of marble and entered a high-arched hall, where two young pages were lighting scented candles set in tall and ornamented candelabras. This was my first view of the interior of a palace, a world of high ceilings, tapestried walls, tiled floors, and glazed windows. It amazed me, and left Eadig literally wide-eyed. Somewhere in the distance, a man was singing. Our guide excused himself and a lesser servant showed us into a cloakroom, where visitors could make themselves presentable.
A few cloaks hung on pegs, indicating that guests were present. There were also stools and a table with basins and towels. Eadig sank gingerly onto a seat and sighed.
“This is how kings live?”
“When they must. I expect they usually find better lodgings.”
“Why is it that after three days on my ass, sitting’s the first thing I want to do?”
I settled beside him. “Please yourself. Personally I’d rather go for a horn or two of beer, a hearty snack, and eight hours on a soft mattress. But the hard part may still be ahead of us.”
“You really think we’re really going to meet with Queen Eleanor?” Eadig’s eyes were permanently as big as horseshoes.
I did not have to answer that, because then pages brought hot water and towels so we could wash our hands and faces. I combed my hair in front of the largest mirror I had ever seen and wished my stubble did not grow so quickly.
I had barely finished adjusting my cap when the doorway was filled by a large man, with a chest like a water barrel and an unforgettable battering ram of a nose. He was elderly, with a silver beard and a slight hump that made his great head thrust forward. His robes were a splendid scarlet color, trimmed in ermine despite the summer heat, and he sported a gold chain around his neck to indicate that he held some important office. In a massive hand sporting a gold signet ring, he clutched my letter of introduction as if trying to crush it to death. His fierce warrior eyes looked me up and down. I did not recall seeing that nose at Barton.
“Durwin? Leicester. What’s this urgent message you want to give me?”
“It concerns a Satanic plot to kill the king, my lord.”
I expected to see the droopy-eyelid, stretched-mouth signs of disbelief, as if I had told him that King Arthur had just arrived back from Avalon and was recruiting knights for his round table, but his reaction was the exact opposite—alarm. “Wait here!” the regent snapped, and was gone.
I returned to my seat. I said, “Yes,” to Eadig’s question of a moment before. “If she weren’t here, he would have taken us with him.”
Our liveried flunky soon returned. “Her Grace will receive you now, Your Wisdom.” He looked down askance at my companion coming forward with me.
“Adept Eadig son of Edwin is a witness to some of the dread events I must disclose to Her Grace.”
Faced with having to make a decision, Glorious chewed his lip for a moment and then nodded. I got the impression that this unscheduled business was all highly irregular and improper and we should be ashamed of ourselves for interrupting the royal leisure. He led the way out to the hallway, and along a corridor. The singing had stopped. At the end he announced us.
“Lady Queen, by your grace, I present Sage Durwin of Helmdon and Adept Eadig son of Edwin.”
The chamber was large and still bright, with sunset shining through high glazed windows overlooking a small park. The walls were hung with colorful tapestries, the floor tiled with variegated slate. I saw at once that we had interrupted a social evening. Only the queen and the earl were present, but they sat amid a group of eight or ten empty chairs, arranged to face the other side of the room, so we had interrupted a musical soirée. A side table held wine and many goblets.
Eleanor looked no older than she had two years earlier, at Barton. As then, she wore a heavily embroidered robe, whose skirt fell in pleats to the floor. This time it was of forest green, but she could wear any color in the rainbow. Her hair was concealed by a French hood and her neck by a linen wimple. From the cursory glance that was all I dared give her, I could not have told by looking at her that she was again with child, as the Wyrds had told me. At forty-four she was unlikely to be, but she looked years younger than most women of her age.
I bowed to the queen first and then again to Earl Robert of Leicester.
“You are welcome, Your Wisdom,” the queen said as I straightened up, “but your news may not be, if it is so urgent. You have come poste haste from Lincoln?”
For a moment I thought she must be aware of why I had been sent to Lincoln, and then I remembered who had signed my credentials. “I have, Lady Queen.”
“In three days?”
“Aye. We left at Sunday’s dawn.”
“That is hard riding,” the justiciar said. “You went there with Sir Neil d’Airelle?” So the king must have informed him of the Courtney affair.
“I did, my lord, and it is of him that I bring most terrible news.”
Queen and earl exchanged cautious glances.
“He is dead?” she asked, frowning.
“Worse, my lady. He and his squire, Piers d’Airelle, have both been ensorcelled by the blackest of Satanic magic. They left Lincoln last Thursday morning, intent on heading to France to find the Lord King and kill him.”
I had expected a strong reaction to that over-dramatic announcement. Instead, they showed no reaction at all. I had never considered the possibility that even the queen would not believe my warnings. Sudden thoughts of dungeons and thumbscrews filled my mind.
“You must be weary,” she said calmly. “Sit down, both of you. Tell us your story, Sage.”
For two days I had been planning just how I would do that, but for a moment my mind went as blank as a snowdrift. I said, “Um,” twice, and then it all came out in a rush. I did not mention that I had foreseen Sir Neil’s arrival at Helmdon, nor that the Wyrds had later predicted high treason, for that would have sounded like bragging, while the rest of my tale was to be a confession of failure. I did mention that I had not taken my most powerful spells with me, but I blamed myself, barely hinting at Sir Neil’s failure to take me into his confidence.
That brought me to Nottingham, at which point the earl rose and went to the table, returning with goblets of wine, first for the queen,
then for both me and Eadig. Never before had I been served by an earl, and it hasn’t happened often since.
It was at Nottingham that I had persuaded Neil to continue to Lincoln without his armed escort. Would things have turned out differently if he had ignored my advice? I didn’t know and still don’t, but on the whole I think it made no difference. Corneille would have planned some way to enslave him without his followers’ knowledge.
I described the situation we found at Lincoln—the sheriff and bishop both away, and the constable stricken. That provoked the first interruption and, surprisingly, it came from the queen.
“Did either you or Sir Neil speak with the old knight who wrote the letter, Sir Courtney?”
“Sir Courtney died on the day that letter was written, Lady Queen. Which happened first I do not know.”
She frowned. “Continue.”
“From what I have been told of that letter, my lady, I believe that it was carefully designed to be sufficiently incredible that His Grace would not send an army, but alarming enough to justify investigation by one of his trusted familiares, someone who would later be admitted to report to him privily. The purpose was always to set up an opportunity for assassination.”
Then I had Eadig tell how he saw Neil and Piers captured, and how he witnessed their torture in the dungeon. I picked up the story with Harald Larson, and the replacement of all the town healers by strangers. It was when I named them that I received the biggest surprise of the day so far—although there was worse to come. My audience had been watching me intently, but suddenly their attention shifted to something behind me.
“Describe this Corneille Boterel!” roared the king.
chapter 27
there was another doorway, on the far side of the room, normally concealed by a tapestry. Henry must have been standing there all the time, with the man now following him out—Master Aubrey de Fours, the enchanter general.
Eadig and I leaped off our seats so we could kneel. Leicester rose. The queen smiled at the drama. Eadig had spilled his wine over his britches.