Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (21 page)

Robert looked up again.

‘My father.’ Durrill shrugged, as though the act of indifference was holding him together. ‘There was some stubborn mark in him that wouldn’t allow it, no matter what you did. He said you didn’t have it in you to be ruthless enough. He said you didn’t deserve forgiveness. Micah always said that it was not for my father to judge, either way.’ Robert looked away from the truth in those words.

The younger man stood in silence for a moment, then spoke again, words flowing from him in what sounded like a prepared speech. ‘When you move, Your Grace, we … my brothers and I, we would like to go with you. To help in what way we can. There are only five of us and though we’ve fought no battles, we are trained well enough.’

Robert’s eyes widened, turning on the man before him. ‘With your father not a week in his grave? He hated me! And you would fight alongside me?’

Durrill raised his eyebrows, an easy and relieved smile belying his age. ‘It is not our place to judge you.’

That simple-voiced faith ran through Robert like cold water. ‘Thank you.’

Durrill took a step back. ‘We will be ready to leave whenever you send word.’ He gave Robert a slight bow, then turned to walk away. Robert didn’t allow him more than two steps.

‘Have you sent word to …’

‘Micah?’ Durrill faced him once more, his smile gone, replaced by the shadows of mourning. ‘Aye, we have.’ He paused, as though preparing his next words. ‘My lord, we know nothing of why he left your side. However, we … we would all welcome whatever reconciliation might be achieved in time.’

Each word landed hard inside Robert and he felt the blackness seethe and bubble for a moment, soaking up that sentiment. The demon took what nourishment it could get.

Reconciliation? With Micah?

Yet this man watched him with hope in his eyes, as much as Micah had ever done. ‘Please pass on my best wishes to your mother.’

Durrill smiled, turned and walked away. Soon even the sounds of his footsteps were gone and Robert was alone with the ghost of David Maclean.

‘They told us the land didn’t belong to us any more and that it was best that we leave. Papa didn’t want to go and Mama wanted to stay and fight them. But Papa and me, we’d seen them, how many there were. We saw the swords and the lances and the looks in their eyes. They just marched into the house and started throwing our things out onto the snow. They only let us take one horse and a cart. When Papa tried to take the other horse, they put a knife against his throat. Then … when one of the soldiers … got Mama, my brother ran to help her. They … they killed him and his blood went all in the snow.
Mama cried. They laughed at us. We filled the cart with things they let us keep and then we left but we stopped when we got to the woods because Mama was crying and Papa had some cuts that needed binding. Mama was angry with the soldiers and the King. She wanted to kill them. I think Papa did too, but he didn’t say anything. He just had this horrible look in his eyes when he looked out of the woods, back at the house. I … was scared.

‘Then Papa said he’d rather burn the house down than let the King have it, that a man was better dead than disowned. Then this … man came out of the woods towards us. He was riding this big roan horse and he carried a huge sword. Papa was ready to fight but the man he … he …’

Aiden sat forward, reaching out with a gentle hand to the boy’s shoulder. Soothingly, he stroked until the wide eyes looked up again. ‘Go on.’

The boy continued, ‘The man said that Papa shouldn’t throw his life away when the King wouldn’t even notice. He said we should leave and go with him. He said the soldiers would look after our farm because the King wanted money from it. The man said that we should go with him, to where it was safe, and then he promised we could go back home soon. Please, Father, are we safe now?’

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Aiden glanced from the boy to the young girl sitting silently beside him, perched on the wooden bench as though she’d just been placed there. She hadn’t said a word, but watched him and her brother with enormous haunted eyes.

‘Yes, you’re safe now.’ Aiden wanted to promise them that everything would be all right, but the words stuck inside him.

Looking down at his sister, the boy asked, ‘What will happen to us now?’

Aiden sat back in his chair. This was the inevitable question that was always so difficult to answer – especially for a child who understood nothing of politics and for whom a power struggle was limited to seeing his mother in full flight against a man he knew nothing about. Gathering himself, Aiden forced a smile onto his face, making sure it was genuine. ‘You and your
family can stay here and rest as long as you like. The monks will look after you. Then, when your parents have recovered, you can find a new home for a while, until it’s safe to go back to Lusara.’

Both children looked at him then, still a little wary, but the boy offered a slight grin and that was enough. Then their gazes shifted as the door behind him opened. Aiden turned in his chair and gave a smile of welcome to the man who entered the infirmary, though he looked uncomfortable, as he always did when walking around inside a house of the gods, as though he had sins to be forgiven that he could keep from them if he tried.

Aiden got to his feet and the man came towards him. ‘Good afternoon, Father. I see you’re working hard as always.’

Everard Payne, Earl of Cannockburke, exuded charm, bestowing it on the children before him while looking around at the effects of last night’s arrival. ‘Deverin told me Robert had brought in another batch of refugees. Have they settled in?’

‘They appear to be comfortable, given the circumstances. There are a couple of injuries and a bad fever between them, but nothing dangerous.’

‘Excellent.’ Payne said as he caught Aiden’s elbow. ‘Could I speak to you for a moment?’

‘Of course.’ Aiden took his leave of the children and allowed the Earl to usher him outside. The air was cold and damp, the sky still heavy and grey, as though St Julian’s had been cut off from the rest of the world.

Payne began quietly, keeping his voice low from the others working or passing through the courtyard, ‘Do you know where Robert has gone?’

‘He just said that he had to go out.’

Payne ran his hands through his short fair hair, then put them on his hips, a gesture of impatience and some irritation. ‘You know David Maclean is dead?’

A wash of something flew over Aiden then. ‘Sweet Mineah!’ he breathed. This was not something Robert needed right now – and poor Micah …

‘So Robert said nothing about it?’

‘No.’ But there was little doubt in him that Robert had gone to see the Maclean family.

Payne pursed his lips, his gaze penetrating. ‘This can’t go on much longer. We need to get moving, damn it!’

‘Please,’ Aiden whispered, ‘keep your voice down!’

‘Father,’ Payne moved closer, dropping his own voice. ‘We need to make Robert see what’s really going on here. He used to have so much support, but he’s taken so long to move against Kenrick, there are men who think he’s past it, or that he’s become too involved with the sorcery issue – or worse, that he’s become unhinged in some way. One of the major reasons Robert held so much support was because he was trusted to only ever do the right thing, but you must agree that eight years is too long for any man! The things I’ve heard are …’

‘What?’

‘You know what they call this, Father? The Silent Rebellion, because nobody’s talking about it. And nobody’s talking about it, because there’s nothing to talk about! What is Robert waiting for?’

Aiden wished all Payne’s concerns were unfounded – but he’d heard the same things from others, here and there. Had Robert? He received so many letters while he was away. Surely there would be some mention, some word of the danger further delays would bring.

But he’d called a meeting. Because of Osbert?

‘I don’t think we’ll be waiting too much longer,’ he murmured, sending up a prayer that he wouldn’t be made a liar with that statement.

Payne took it in his stride. ‘No? Good. Well, Deverin, Daniel and Owen are waiting in your study. Now all we need is—’

His words were cut off by the clatter of hooves entering the courtyard. They turned to find Robert riding in, his dark hair flowing behind him. He gave Payne a nod, then met Aiden’s gaze with only a hint that not everything was as it seemed.

Aiden silenced his thoughts, his questions. Yes, he would
soon have some answers, but now he wasn’t sure he was going to like what Robert had to say.

*

The cold hemmed him in on all sides. Though the ride was over, though this room was lit with torches and firelight, though the stone walls were strong and stout, the cold still penetrated, accompanying him wherever he went, a shadow even the brightest summer could not chase away.

Robert stood before the fire, his eyes closed long enough to ease the sting of the night air. He sipped again from the small bottle he carried with him, hoping the drug would keep the pain at bay as long as he needed it to.

Only two things would make a difference to this future. Either Patric would finally return, bearing news of the Prophecy. Or – and this was the most useful but the least likely – Robert could try finding the Calyx.

He was certain the Calyx held a lot more information than previously believed. If he could just find the damned thing, he might be able to find the real Prophecy, or at least get a context for this one. He could learn if there was text missing from it. And, of course, it was Salti legend that the Calyx held the way for them to live outside their prison, though how they could ever manage that in the present climate, he couldn’t begin to guess.

He took in a breath and held it, summoning up the power easily. Out he went, sending his Senses along the road, Seeking west, turning to avoid a hill. Further and further he travelled, over the border, back into his beautiful Lusara, picking up faint traces here and there of living things, people, animals, birds and others. He knew them all, ignored each one and moved on further again, travelling north now, into more darkness, until he found what he was looking for.

So different to the aura of any other sorcerer, and so familiar, after all these years. Unscarred, and yet strong, very strong.

He couldn’t stop the smile creasing his face. At least this felt good, in its own way.

With a sigh, he let out the breath he’d been holding,
withdrew carefully and opened his eyes again, peering out into a night filled with evil weather. It would be hard travelling tomorrow, but it would get even worse if he left it much longer.

A door behind him opened, letting in other noises, voices, footsteps, the unmistakable sounds of men moving into the room. Only when silence fell did he turn around and face those who had gathered here.

At the table sat one of his oldest friends, Lord Daniel Courtenay. As boys, they had fought with sticks under the watchful eye of their fathers. With his fair hair thinning on top, his girth expanding a little more each year, Daniel’s appearance belied his fighting ability – but like so many of his kind, Daniel had a carefully buried streak of toughness deep inside him.

The next man would see none of the fighting, unless from a safe distance. Deverin had served Robert’s father faithfully for many years, had fought Selar on Seluth Common and at Nanmoor, had taken up his sword again at Shan Moss and now walked with a limp from a wound that had healed badly. Beside him sat Owen Fitzallan, the patch over one eye testament to his efforts at the Battle of Shan Moss. Like Deverin, he had spent most of his life in the service of the Douglas family and now, in his later years, he still strived to serve as he could.

Opposite, his hands laced neatly together as though he were not impatient, but calm and composed, sat Aiden McCauly, rightful Bishop of Lusara, a man whose loyalty to his own people had never once been in doubt. Despite imprisonment and exile, Aiden had refused to move too far from the border, not wanting to be more than a day’s ride from the soil he wished one day to be buried in.

The last man at the table looked out of place with these would-be rebels, even though, deep down inside, he was as much of their ilk as anyone. Everard Payne had been handsome as a youth and as a young man. Now almost forty, he still carried his looks well. Perhaps not as rich as he’d once been, his clothing maintained his customary air of casual elegance; he looked under no illusions as to what was to be discussed here, nor of the costs involved.

A serving boy entered the room, placing a tray of wine and cups onto the table before Robert. Another boy followed, bringing food: sweet yellow bread and cold sliced bacon, onions and radishes and fruit tarts that left a lemon scent drifting in the air. Robert waited until they were done, then shut the door behind them. He waved his hand over the lock, setting a warning.

Slowly, he walked back to the end of the table, his gaze drifting to the heavy chest he’d brought up from its hiding place downstairs. He came to his chair and placed his hands on the back, before looking up into the first pair of eyes which met his: Aiden’s.

‘I’m sorry,’ he began evenly. ‘You’ve all had to wait a long time for this. Still, you’re here now and for that, I thank you.’ Robert could hear something in his own voice that sounded terribly final. ‘Before I go any further, I want you to be clear on something. I won’t have any of you travelling across the border to help. This time, there won’t be an army, no battle and no war. At least, there won’t be if I can help it. There’s already been too much bloodshed in the name of this cause. However, I do need your help.’

‘You know you have it, Robert,’ Payne replied firmly, echoed around the table.

‘Aye, I do know. And for that, you have my thanks, poor though they might be.’ This was greeted with smiles he matched by habit. Being around these men had never been difficult and seeing the hope in their eyes did something to him.

Gathering his thoughts, he swallowed and gestured behind him to the heavy wooden box he’d brought up from downstairs. Then he said, to no one in particular, ‘In this chest, you will find all the documents, letters, maps and everything else you will need. I’m the only one who can open the lock. However, if I’m gone, go ahead and break the thing apart.’ Robert took another mouthful of ale and wandered towards the fireplace. His eyes on the floor, he continued, ‘If I don’t survive, you must work together to ensure that my plans come to fruition. Everything you need to know is in that chest.’