Scrivener's Tale (38 page)

‘Don't think like that,' he said quietly.

‘I have to, Brom. Someone wants me dead. Professional archers were paid to ambush us. They knew precisely where we'd be when only less than a handful of us knew about this.'

‘It could be anyone, majesty.'

‘Yes, but it has to be someone with enough of a gripe and a sufficient purse to be able to pull off something like this.'

Brom conceded this with a slow nod. He turned to check the windows again. ‘Felyx and Erle haven't moved.'

‘Don't look at them.'

Hoolyn was back, this time with an angry dowager trailing up the stairs. She didn't give anyone a chance to speak.

‘You!' she sneered. ‘So you thought you could have me assassinated, did you?'

Florentyna's mouth opened but she didn't respond. The notion hadn't occurred to her that the attackers weren't meant for them. ‘Greetings, Saria,' she began, pleased to see her father's widow looking plumper than she recalled and wheezing slightly from her efforts. ‘We did not bring these men. They were firing directly on us.'

‘Probably because they thought you were me!' she snapped, but a lot of her fire had burned out from the climb up the tower. ‘Why are you here?'

‘I thought we needed to talk … about Darcelle's nuptials. You know, mother to daughter.'

Saria gave a gust of a laugh and there was no warmth in it. ‘Really? Why have you sneaked in, your majesty? Where's your entourage?'

‘Saria, we can have this conversation in private. Right now we have to be sure of our safety.'

‘You're not safe,' Hoolyn interjected before the dowager could stir the queen's emotions any further. ‘The attackers were not the least bit interested in the monks who checked on your men. I deeply regret that they are both dead. We can't tell how many archers there are — at least two, my Brothers think.'

‘Only two,' the queen murmured.

‘At least two, majesty,' Brom cautioned. ‘How do they know this?'

‘They've had a conversation of sorts, yelling back and forth. They've allowed us to bring the dead men into the chapel. They have no gripe with us, apparently … well, not if we give them you, your majesty.'

Florentyna nodded. Her instincts had been right.

‘Are they mad?' Brom asked. ‘They're prepared to kill the sovereign.'

‘They nearly succeeded,' Hoolyn remarked. ‘I think we must be mindful that the dowager is in danger too. They wouldn't know that we have two royals in the monastery.'

Florentyna tried not to show how she bristled at being compared to Saria, but this was not a time to be sensitive. ‘Of course. If they knew, they might use her as bargaining power.'

Saria snorted. ‘All the more reason for you to throw me to the dogs, Florentyna. You can use me to divert their attention.'

‘Oh, do stop, Saria. I'm already tired of your poisonous tone,' Florentyna snapped. It helped to have someone to direct her pain towards.

The men shared an awkward glance.

‘Brother Hoolyn, what did these men actually demand?' she asked, ignoring Saria's glare.

‘They seem to think we'd be prepared to meekly hand you over, your majesty.'

‘Or what?'

‘Well …' he began, and then cleared his throat. ‘They will smoke you out. They're planning a fire for Rittylworth and don't seem to care if anyone else dies.' He gave a low sigh. ‘We've survived that ravage before and will do so again.'

‘That's not going to happen,' Florentyna announced. ‘Brom and I will leave. And Saria, we can't risk them discovering you here or they might use you to bargain with.' She looked back at Brom and Father Hoolyn. “We'll take the dowager and our chances in the hills.'

‘I'm not leaving,' Saria assured her. ‘If you've got a big target painted on your back, I'm not going anywhere near you outside of these walls.'

Florentyna threw a snake-eyed glare at Saria. ‘And there I was thinking you wanted to escape the monastic lifestyle, Saria. All right then, take your chances. You're most welcome to stay if Brother Hoolyn will keep you.'

‘No, wait. She might be behind this!' Brom suddenly boomed.

‘What?' Saria cried. ‘How dare you? I'll have you lashed just for thinking that, and I'll have your tongue cut out for saying it!'

‘Be quiet, Saria. And that's a command!' Florentyna turned to Brom. ‘What do you think?'

‘We can't stay here,' he said.

She agreed. ‘So we run? What about the horses?'

‘We'll be slower, but we'll find it easier to hide and react on foot.' He looked at the dowager. ‘You'll have to change into more suitable clothes to go across rough terrain, er … your highness.'

‘Let me tell you, soldier, I am not going anywhere today in any change of clothes.'

Florentyna leaned in close to the Queen Dowager. ‘Get changed, madam, or I'll have Brom change you himself. You're coming with us. And you'd want to be quiet about it or you'll be the one without the tongue. Is that clear?'

Saria looked at her with such loathing both men stepped back. ‘There'll be a reckoning for this.'

‘You think I'm scared of you, Saria?' She stared so angrily and intently at the dowager that the older woman took a step back. Florentyna cut a look at her companion. ‘Brom, go with her.' At his look of worry, she nodded. ‘I'm fine here for the moment. Keep her on her toes and rip that gown off if you have to — you have my permission.'

Saria glowered at her before giving an indignant growl and turning on her heels. Florentyna looked at Brom and nodded in Saria's direction as if to tell him to hurry up. Clearly angry, he did as he was told and she could hear him clomping down the stairs behind the dowager.

‘Your majesty, I cannot let you leave here without fighting to save you.'

‘You are a man of peace, Brother Hoolyn. I do not want you to fight at all.'

‘You know what I mean. We must at least protect you with our lives.'

‘No. I think we just invite more death. This way we have a chance. We may need a diversion though.'

‘Whatever you need is yours.'

She couldn't believe she smiled. Here she was about to run for her life and she could grin. She wouldn't admit to any sense of excitement because that would be plain madness, but there was a rekindling within her of something that had been mute for a long time. She could feel her spirit returning; all that had once made her the person her father was proud of was reawakening. It had been buried and silent since his death and she had felt like an empty shell. Now her life was threatened and she wanted to fight for it, as well as hunt down these murderers.

‘Do you have livestock here?'

‘Some cows, yes, a few sheep. Some horses too.'

‘The cows. Can you perhaps lead them out to pasture or something?' She gave a shrug, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge of animal husbandry.

‘Yes, of course we can.'

‘The three of us will steal out with the cows, using them for cover as best we can, just until we can reach the higher ground,' she said, casting a glance out of the window that faced north.

‘Better still, your majesty, you lead the cows out wearing our cassocks. It may just buy some extra time, whether they realise the ploy earlier or later.'

‘Excellent idea, Brother Hoolyn. I might leave it to you to let the dowager know about yet another change of clothes.'

Cassien and Ham emerged from the hills that overlooked Rittylworth Monastery from the north.

‘It's beautiful,' Ham sighed. ‘I never thought I'd see the famous monastery.'

‘I'm glad we came this way,' Cassien admitted, ‘I've read about Rittylworth in the history books but to see it is worthwhile, especially …' His voice trailed off as his sharp gaze picked out a scene that looked altogether wrong. ‘Ham, something's odd.'

‘What?' he said, following Cassien's gaze into the distance.

Cassien squinted. ‘Shar! Those are bodies,' he exclaimed.

Ham focused. ‘Two men.'

Cassien concentrated, trying to make sense of the scene from this distance. ‘Killed with arrows.'

Ham looked at him. ‘What can that mean?'

‘Search me.' They both stared again. ‘Monks are walking out.'

They watched in silence now as the dead men were half-dragged, half-carried back into the building.

‘What is going on here?' Cassien wondered aloud.

‘What do we do?'

‘We wait.'

‘For what?'

‘For more to be revealed,' Cassien decided. ‘We need to get off this rise, though, in case we're spotted. Come on.' He jumped off his horse and Ham did the same. ‘Follow me,' Cassien said, leading them down toward the wooded area that rose up behind Rittylworth. Once beneath the safety of the tree canopy, they tied their horses up. ‘Right, we watch from here. We have a good vantage point,' he said.

They waited, neither talking. There was no sign of who had shot the arrows. Finally, they watched several monks re-emerge from the compound, their hands held out before them in a show of surrender. Moments later, another group of monks at the back of the monastery complex let some cattle out of a pen; three of the monks moved with the animals, walking slowly out into the pastures. Behind them, two monks lifted their hands in farewell; one held his fist and shook it earnestly. Cassien frowned. That was a sign of wishing someone good luck.

He blinked. It didn't make sense that while an attack was underway the monks would carry on normal activities like taking care of animals. But it was Ham who put into words what was nagging most on the rim of his thoughts.

‘Those monks aren't very good with the cows, are they? The one on the right — the short one — looks scared of them.'

‘He does, I agree. And the tallest of them keeps looking around, as though he's worried at being followed.' He chewed the inside of his lip. ‘Ham, those aren't monks. Two of them are tripping over their cassocks. They have small hands, and one has long hair if I'm not mistaken. I think we have two women being pursued.' He squinted a little, couldn't see any more action at the front of the monastery. ‘It looks as though we're going to get involved whether we like it or not, because they're headed our way.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘Nothing until I can hear what they're saying.'

Saria pushed at a cow with a repulsed groan. Any moment she was sure it would tread on her foot or touch her with that huge wet nose.

‘I have to get you away from this open pasture, majesty,' Brom said looking over his shoulder. ‘You're too vulnerable.'

‘You only care about her,' Saria accused. ‘Why did you ever bring me?' she spat.

‘So that I could strap you to the queen's back and let you take the arrows,' the man growled.

‘Brom, don't,' the hooded figure in the middle admonished. ‘We're going to be safer once we reach that ridge.'

‘Brom. I won't forget that name,' Saria assured him. ‘Between now and when you're arrested, I'm going to dream up ways to punish you long before I have you killed.'

‘Be quiet both of you,' Florentyna, said, her hand resting on the back of one of the animals. ‘Right now the cows are peaceful, but if you scare them our pursuers will notice.'

But their attackers were not to be fooled and were already upon them.

‘Your majesty!' they yelled as one in singsong, derogatory tones.

The three cassocked fugitives halted and Saria let out a shriek of fear. The cows scattered.

Brom pushed both women behind him and pulled off the constraining cassock. In a fluid movement, he drew his sword. ‘Get back, you bastards,' he warned the three men.

Their pursuers laughed behind masks as they sauntered up quietly on horseback. ‘You're so terrifying, Brom. I'm sorry I didn't get to watch the light die in Felyx's eyes. I'm glad that I'll have that pleasure with you.'

Brom blinked uncomprehendingly. His shoulders slumped. ‘Hubbard?'

The man who'd spoken gave an ironic shrug. ‘You see, I told you masks were irrelevant,' he said to his two companions. He pulled off the helmet and visor and Florentyna judged him as having seen thirty-five summers. His face was one of those arranged with features that were neither dark nor light, neither handsome nor plain, and was lightly bearded, with hair of a nondescript colour. Even his voice had no defining timbre. Nevertheless, he looked strong and he possessed an innate arrogance, with an ironic tone that could cut to the bone. ‘Greetings, Brom. Majesty.' He inclined his head. ‘And whoever this shrieking haridelle is.'

‘I have absolutely nothing to do with these people,' Saria announced to him.

The man regarded her with no amusement. ‘Then why are you with them?'

‘They captured me. Forced me. He said he'd use me as a shield for the queen.'

At this their pursuer laughed. ‘Clever, Brom. You were always the creative one.'

‘Who is this?' Florentyna asked, ignoring the man taunting them, allowing Saria's words to wash over her unheeded, as she addressed Brom.

‘His name is Hubbard, your majesty. One of our best, clearly turned mercenary,' Brom answered, his head lowered. ‘Forgive me, my queen,' he whispered.

‘For what?' she said mournfully. ‘We nearly made it.'

‘Tell our queen all of it, Brom,' Hubbard urged slyly.

Still she refused their captor eye contact and held Brom with her stare.

‘Hubbard is my younger brother and brings my family the worst shame of all. I'll at least try and kill him before he —'

‘Too late, brother,' Hubbard said. The blade was expertly thrown and it sank into Brom's throat a heartbeat later.

Florentyna gasped as Brom sank to his knees, dropping his sword. She reached for him, helpless tears rolling down her cheeks, not in fear but for the senseless waste of another good man.