Exile's Return (Book 1) (3 page)

‘And I want to hear no more of your dissension over the King. I don’t care if you do hate him, Gellatly. We still serve Selar, regardless.’

Gellatly stuck out his jaw. ‘I was taught the Guilde’s sacred duty was to serve the gods.’

‘Don’t start arguing semantics with me, man or I’ll flay you myself!’ Osbert snapped, his previous good humour gone. ‘You’re no good to me if you can’t follow my orders.
Whether you hate the King or not, this matter affects the future of Lusara and it would do you good to remember that.’

Nash placed a hand on Gellatly’s shoulder to forestall any further comment. He bowed his head with noble dignity and murmured, ‘We do remember, my lord Governor. It is merely out of concern for Lusara’s security that my friend speaks in this manner. He means no disrespect.’

Osbert’s gaze narrowed as he looked from one man to the other. He knew he could trust Nash, but Gellatly was becoming a problem. Perhaps it was time to replace him. He nodded abruptly. ‘See to it that it stays that way. There is something else I need you to do. Ogiers of Mayenne. He’s to stay at court for the winter. For form’s sake, the King has allowed it. But you must know he would rather Ogiers were anywhere else – and by his own choice. The King cannot send him away.’

Gellatly nodded. ‘What would you have us do?’

‘Use your imagination, if you have one!’ Osbert snapped. ‘Watch him, find out all you can of his real intentions. Report to me in two days. By then I may have worked out how to get rid of him. But use discretion, I warn you. I know Ogiers of old and he’s no fool. If he finds you’re watching him he’s sure to make use of it.’

The two men bowed obedience and Osbert turned for the door. He had an appointment with Vaughn and he didn’t want to be late.

*

Godfrey returned to the Basilica and spent a few minutes putting away the things from the Guilde chapel. He didn’t hurry, there was still some time before the others would arrive and Father John would surely have the dining table set in Hilderic’s study. He could change out of his vestments and be with Hilderic before the first guest.

He placed the plate and chalice inside the sacristy cupboard and locked it with the key hanging from his belt. Taking a taper, he lit two candles against the encroaching dusk and placed them on the robing table. He was about to
remove the embroidered stole from around his neck when there was a brief knock on the door.

‘Come.’ Godfrey turned and waited, but nothing happened. ‘Who’s there?’ he demanded.

Now the door opened and a woman entered, dark cloak drawn dramatically around her face. She came forward only far enough to close the door behind her then stood silent, her hands beneath the folds of her cloak.

His patience wearing thin, Godfrey took a deep breath, ‘How may I help you, daughter?’

The voice beneath the hood was muffled. ‘I am in need of confession, Father.’ The hands reappeared and drew the hood back from her face. As she looked up at him, Godfrey sank to his knees.

‘Your Grace! I had no idea! But why are you …’

‘Forgive me, Father,’ Rosalind whispered, taking an indecisive step towards him. ‘I have very little time before I am missed. You are the only one I can trust.’

‘But surely your Confessor is qualified to help you?’

Rosalind stopped him with a sharp shake of her head. Her eyes went back to the door and in response, Godfrey rose to his feet, moved around her and locked it. Her eyes smiled gratitude but her hands twisted together in agitation. She paced up and down a little then stopped and faced him again. Godfrey didn’t need to be a priest to see she was deeply troubled.

‘I see you wear the stole, Father,’ Rosalind began, her voice hesitant. ‘May I ask … can you hear my confession without it on?’

‘Of course. It merely symbolizes the seal placed on your confession.’

‘And if I do not wish my confession to be sealed?’

Her eyes searched his. What was she asking? Was this some kind of trap set by the King? No, Rosalind was Selar’s prisoner – not his pawn.

Godfrey nodded slowly and crossed the room. He stood before her, his impatience gone. ‘Your confession is as sealed
as you wish it to be. If there is something you wish me to discuss with my brothers then you have only to say so.’

‘Then I do say so, Father,’ Rosalind replied emphatically. ‘I am afraid that …’

She paused and Godfrey took her hands in his, willing her calm. ‘Tell me, daughter. What troubles you?’

‘I … I’m sorry, father, but this is difficult. I do not know if I am doing right coming to you like this. If the King should find out …’ she paused again and took a deep breath. When she spoke this time, her voice was firmer, as though she’d finally made her decision.

‘I have discovered something you must know, Father, but the conclusions I have drawn fill me with fear. I hope I am mistaken. Yesterday I overheard a conversation which directly concerns the Church.’

‘Who was speaking?’

‘Vaughn and … the King.’

Godfrey felt the breath sucked out of him. It was treason for her to be telling him – and treason for him to listen. But he didn’t stop her. It had cost her a lot to come here. ‘And what did you hear?’

‘In return for some favour, the King has agreed to support Vaughn in a new enterprise. He … intends to take hospice work away from the Church. He says that such science belongs to the Guilde and has no place among the holy. Vaughn is quite determined, Father and it scares me. If they …’

‘If the Guilde takes on this work, they will deny it to the poor for they would be unable to pay, yes, I know. They would also take away great amounts of Church land in the process.’ Godfrey turned away, his mind reeling. Where had the traditional brotherhood gone between Church and Guilde? For a thousand years, the two had worked together, side by side for the common good. Now it seemed Vaughn was willing to sacrifice that ancient bond for his own ends. This was terrible!

‘Do you know what the favour is? What did the King want in return for this support?’

‘I was unable to hear clearly, but I fear it has something to do with the embassy from Mayenne. You know the Duke is to stay the winter in Marsay? I am unable to believe this is innocent, Father. It is not widely known but the King has always secretly desired to take back the throne he was cheated out of – that of Mayenne. I … believe his decision to embrace Ogiers is purely to put Tirone at ease over their relationship in order that he might better prepare himself for war.’

Godfrey met her gaze. She was serious. She believed it with all her heart. The worst part was, it made sense – too much sense. If Selar intended war against Mayenne then taking Ogiers in and treating him with all honour would be a natural first step. Lull Tirone into a deeply false sense of security. Then, when the moment came, Selar could strike …

‘But the King must know that the people of Lusara would never go to war for him,’ Godfrey objected, clinging on to the first thread of logic that came to him. ‘And certainly not to invade Mayenne.’

Slowly, Rosalind nodded, ‘Yes, you must be right. I have misunderstood. He would not make so grave an error as that when there is so much at stake. But still, Vaughn is determined to succeed with the healing work. I beg you to tell Bishop Domnhall. He is the only one who can stop it.’

‘And I will keep your name out of it, Your Grace. You have already risked much to tell me this. Now you must go, before you are missed.’

Rosalind actually smiled and for a moment, she was a young girl once again, untroubled by her fate and her future. Then it was gone, the hood replaced about her face. Godfrey opened the door for her and checked that the corridor was empty. In a second she was gone, leaving nothing but her scent.

Minutes later Godfrey was on his way to Hilderic’s study.

He was late and the old man favoured him with a frown as he slipped into the room. The others were already present: McGlashen, Payne and the stalwart abbess of Saint Hilary’s,
Eluned. Mumbling apologies, Godfrey drew the archdeacon into a corner and, in a few moments, apprised him of what Rosalind had said.

Hilderic’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You can’t be serious! Dammit, Godfrey, if this is one of your jokes …’

‘It is no joke, Brother,’ Godfrey whispered, his eyes darting back to the others. Eluned could be trusted – but the lords? Did they already know? Would they help? ‘At least my friend’s conclusion about war is misplaced. We are to be spared that.’

‘Really?’ Hilderic murmured, attaching his formidable mind to the problem. ‘McGlashen was just telling me about the problem with these nomadic raiders stirring up trouble in the west. They’re moving east and no one knows anything about them. It is said they come from Mayenne but there’s no proof. If Selar wanted a war with his brother then this would be a useful way to gather support from the people.’

Godfrey considered that for a moment then shook his head. ‘This is nothing more than speculation, Brother. We could be completely wrong. We’ve no evidence at all …’

‘No? Think about it, Godfrey. There was only ever one man who was a good influence on Selar, but he’s gone now and never likely to come back. If Selar wanted war, who better to help him than Vaughn? He’s ambitious, greedy and entirely self-serving. He’s completely capable of arranging these raids as a deliberate reminder of those during the Troubles. From what McGlashen says, these raids are very similar to those fifteen years ago. Back then there was barely a House in Lusara which didn’t suffer as a consequence. Raids and those evil abductions. Children of the great Houses taken and never seen again. McGlashen’s cousin Peter was one such – taken when he was only four years old. The child’s father died in the battle of Nanmoor fighting Selar, and his mother in childbirth only months later. Don’t tell me Selar can’t be behind this.’

‘Then what do we do?’

‘For the moment, nothing – and not a word to these others here. We don’t dare compromise McGlashen and
Payne. Their presence on the council is too important. The people have already lost their most beloved champion, we cannot afford to lose more. After we’ve finished here, I’ll go and see Domnhall. After that …’ With a shrug, Hilderic turned back to his supper guests and ushered them to their seats around the table.

Godfrey moved to the sideboard and poured himself some wine. As he brought it to his lips, there was an urgent knock on the door. Hilderic’s secretary, Father John, entered breathless, his eyes casting about the room.

‘Archdeacon,’ he gasped, bowing quickly to the others. ‘The doctor asked me to send for you. Bishop Domnhall has collapsed.’

*

Nash waited across the courtyard, wrapped in a old wool cloak. In the darkness he knew he was almost invisible unless someone looked directly at him. Not that anyone was about. It was a cold night and for the last hour light drifts of slushy snow had fallen from the sky, making the night altogether too miserable to contemplate. This was the first snow Marsay had had this autumn and it boded ill for the coming winter. With his eyes on the small ornate door opposite his sheltered corner, Nash let his mind wander for a moment. Inevitably, his thoughts returned to Gellatly – and Osbert.

He had a problem. It was not insurmountable – but it was a problem, nonetheless, one which required delicate handling and very careful timing. Gellatly had that afternoon once again drawn Osbert’s wrath on the subject of the King. The governor’s attitude had been stern but even so, was more generous than the official Guilde position. However, Gellatly had obstinately stuck to his strict moral code, endangering his position with Osbert – and handing Nash a singular opportunity.

To further his ambitions, Nash needed to rise. Not quickly – at least, not too quickly. In order to get close to Osbert, and therefore Vaughn, he had to remove Gellatly. A small step in his schemes, perhaps – but a necessary one. But there were difficulties. For one, Nash could not afford to involve
himself in the eyes of the Guilde, and so his actions needed to be subtle. Then, of course, he had to ensure there was no real danger to the King. It would not do after all these years of work for Nash to remove the one person he needed most – especially by accident. Especially if …

Nash paused – then a slow smile spread across his face. There was a chance here for him to take more than a single step forward. In all his plans he had avoided the temptation to jump too far ahead of himself. He’d made that mistake before and suffered for it. He’d lost too many years by acting precipitously. But this time, there was the distinct possibility that he could do so without genuine risk. As long as his methods remained subtle, there was every chance he would succeed. Of course, it all depended on Gellatly. It all depended on how much he really hated Selar – and on how much he trusted Nash. And in the process, he could give Osbert and Selar exactly what they wanted. Yes!

As though on cue, the big man chose that moment to slip through the ornate door opposite. He paused long enough to pull his hood up against the snow, then made his way across to Nash.

‘Well?’ Nash enquired quietly.

‘Hah!’ Gellatly frowned and glanced around at the empty courtyard. ‘The monsters would annihilate us all if we gave them the chance.’

‘Ogiers?’

‘Not just him or his puffed-up advisors,’ Gellatly growled, ‘but all of those heathens from Mayenne. You can’t get away from them. They’ve worked their way not only into the court, but the Church and even our beloved Guilde. Pretty soon, we’ll have nothing left. All the things that made our country great are now riddled with them, like maggots on a dead dog. And the carrion of Sadlan and Tusina hover over our borders waiting to pick over the corpse!’

Nash kept his voice soothing. ‘That’s dangerous talk, my friend. But come, let me buy you an ale before you get yourself all agitated. There’s a new tavern opened up down in the town. I hear their ale is the best in Marsay.’

He put an arm around Gellatly’s shoulder and drew him away. ‘Come. You can tell me all about it.’

*

The great hall was packed with courtiers, merchants, clergy and Guildesmen for the first official presentation of the envoy from Mayenne. He had gifts to give, good wishes to impart and there was hardly a soul at court who did not desire to be present for this historic occasion.