The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (13 page)

“What in hellden’s name do you think you’re doing here? Don’t you know there’s an invading army outside Alewinder’s gates? And who’s she?”

Barrin gave his father a broad grin. For an old man he was still strong and formidable. If it had been intruders trying to break into the Soldiers Rest he would have used the club on them and would have broken a few bones with the stout weapon. He took a quick glance around the inn and took note of the changes. The barrels of ale were still in place but the array of fine Vinmore wines that were usually on display behind the bar had gone along with the small barrels which held fine grain spirit and other expensive liquors from across the Great Southern Ocean. He turned back to his father who was tapping his foot impatiently.

“I need to use the cave.”

The inn keeper looked surprised at the request. “You can’t, it’s full of breakables.”

So that’s where the flagons and barrels had gone. “I need to use the cave and I need to use it now.”

His father pulled himself up to his full height, stuck out his chest and took a belligerent step forward. “And who do you think you are, boy, to be giving me orders?”

Barrin thought about it for a moment and then responded in a surprisingly calm voice. “I am the new Swordmaster in command of the Royal Guard, or at least what’s left of it, and this is Queen Daun who is in desperate need of a hiding place. Now will you please open the cave?”

The innkeeper looked stunned. He looked at the struggling queen and the two men who held her and nodded before hurrying to a round table in the centre of the room which he pushed to one side. Beneath the table was a large circular rug, brown with age and spilt wine which he also pushed to one side revealing the stone flagged floor. He stamped hard on one corner of the largest stone and it lifted slightly allowing him to reach underneath and push the stone back. Barrin peered into the hole and caught the reflected light from hundreds of wax-sealed, pottery flagons. His father wasn’t joking when he said it was full of breakables.

“We need to get those out of there and back onto the shelves along with at least a couple of barrels of grain spirit. When Essenland’s army gets here and finds there’s nothing to drink they will tear this place apart and you with it looking for what you have hidden from them. And unbar the door as well, Lias will be returning as soon as he’s hidden the horses.”

“What about her?” asked Redruth, struggling to hold the Queen who was trying to bite the hand he held over her mouth.”

“Tie her up and gag her.” He looked back at his father who looked absolutely horrified. “I’m sorry father; I’m doing my best to save all our lives, the Queen’s included.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “I know, son, but that’s my best wine down there, I’m not going to serve that up to those barbarians!”

Barrin smiled for the first time that day. “We’ll keep as much as we can down there and put the rest in the cellar and bring up the cheap stuff. I know even that’s too good for them but the Queen’s life must come first.” He looked across to where Redruth was just finishing securing the gag around the queen’s mouth. Splattered with blood and tied to a chair with a wad of cloth in her mouth she didn’t look much like a queen. He hoped she would forgive him if she ever took her throne back.

Redruth stood and wiped his hands down his breeches as if he had been dealing with something unpleasant. One finger was bleeding where Daun had sunk her teeth into him. “Are we going to have time to do this?”

Barrin shrugged. “I don’t know but we’re going to try, this is the safest place I know.

They hadn’t quite finished moving flagons around when they heard the first shouts in the street outside. The pot boy, who usually slept beneath the bar but had been set to work as a lookout, slipped through the door to tell them that there were armed men in the square and they were coming their way. Redruth and Tuckin grabbed the Queen’s shoulders and feet and carried her down the steps to the cave. She had stopped struggling some time ago and had just sat and glared at them over the top of her gag. Now she was awake and fighting them again, making their descent of the steep stairs more difficult than it already was. If it weren’t for the fact that she was the Queen they would have just dragged her to the bottom of the stairs on her rear end, but they both thought better of it.

In the common room Barrin dropped the last few flagons of fine Vinmore red down to Lias in the cellar and then helped to haul him out, dropping the trap door behind him. If the place was searched, which it was bound to be, then the cellar would be easy to find and hopefully the search would go no further. It was a pity though that some of the wine they had moved down there was over ten summers old and worth a small fortune. It would break the innkeeper’s heart to see it guzzled by unappreciative soldiers.

Barrin gave his father’s shoulders a squeeze of encouragement and dropped down into the cave and total blackness. Quickly his father pulled the stone slab into place, covered it with the old rug and replaced the table and chairs on top of it. He and the pot boy had barely made it back to behind the bar before the door burst open. The innkeeper gave a brave smile of welcome and prepared for the worst night of his life.

Below him, Barrin and his small squad tried to make themselves as comfortable as they could, which was very difficult in the cramped space. The last time he’d been down here was when Jonderill had been in a fight and was hiding from the Royal Guards. There had been plenty of room then, but of course the cave had been empty and not half full of flagons and barrels being hidden from King Vorgret’s men. The queen took up quite a lot of room too, lying on the same mattress on which Jonderill had lain, but struggling and kicking. The four of them had to squat around the edge so that she didn’t crash into the flagons. Barrin didn’t think they could be heard from above but didn’t want to take the chance.

The other problem was the darkness; it was so black that they couldn’t see each other or how close to the clattering pottery they were. If he could find it he could have lit the small lantern which was kept in the cave but he was afraid that its light might be seen through the cracks in the flagstones above. So they crouched in the darkness and waited and eventually Daun stopped struggling and her breathing changed to the steady rhythm of sleep. Barrin leaned over and released the gag and the bindings so she could sleep more comfortably, and around him, the others moved so they could stretch their cramped legs. He heard the clink of flagons being moved and the rustle of clothing when someone rummaged in their pocket, but it was no louder than the noise a squeaker or gnawer would make.

Staring into the dark hurt his eyes so he closed them and started to drift into sleep until one of his friends nudged him in the ribs and pushed something hard and slightly greasy into his hand. He gave it a sniff and took a bite of the spicy sausage; he should have known that Tuckin would have some food stashed away in his uniform in case he got hungry. Someone, he guessed it must have been Redruth, nudged him again and pushed a flagon of wine into his hand. He took a long pull at the contents and almost sighed with bliss. This, he knew, was something special.

He had tasted wine like this once before as a boy when he had sneaked into the cave and opened one of the forbidden flagons. When his father had found out he had belted him so hard that he hadn’t been able to sit for a seven day, and still had the shadow of the welts on his backside. It had been worth it then and it would be worth it now. He passed the flagon to Lias, closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of boots and scraping chairs coming from above.

Barrin awoke to the sound of stone scraping above his head and light flooding down the stairs into the dark cave. He looked up to see the pale face of the pot boy leaning over the edge and staring down at him. The boy smiled, waved and then disappeared out of sight so Barrin took that as an invitation to follow and stiffly climbed up the stairs which led into the common room. Early morning sunlight streamed through the inn’s windows where the shutters had been ripped off lighting up a scene of destruction worse than the aftermath of any brawl he had ever seen in his father’s inn.

Broken tables and chairs lay in untidy heaps and smashed pots were scattered across the floor in amongst crumpled goblets and empty flagons. One side of the bar had been tipped over and the big barrel which had propped it up had been caved in by someone looking for more ale. All the flagons behind the bar had gone along with the small barrel of grain spirit. At the other end of the room the cellar door had been ripped from its hinges and he didn’t have to look down into the under floor room to guess what state it was in.

His father sat at one of the few tables still standing with his head in his hands, whilst the pot boy disappeared into the back room to fetch him herb tea. Barrin picked his way over the debris, righted a chair and sat next to his father, squeezing the man’s arm in sympathy. The innkeeper looked up and dropped his hands to the table. His eyes were red and a bruise was blossoming on one cheek, but apart from that he looked unharmed. Barrin thought he was going to cry, but instead he banged his fist on the table and looked as if he was going to tear someone apart.

“The bloody grunters took everything, they drank every drop they could get their hands on and didn’t pay me a bloody drac!” He banged his other fist down on the table making it wobble precariously. “Said they would be back tonight for more, and if it wasn’t here they would tear the place apart.” He gave an ironic laugh. “Not that there’s much left to tear.”

Barrin looked around the inn and went to say something sympathetic when there was a shriek from below his feet and the sound of breaking pottery followed by a shout of pain and anger. He jumped to his feet and ran for the entrance to the cave whilst Daun’s screams and curses echoed loudly around the common room. The noise stopped before he reached the second step but only because Tuckin was holding Daun down with his considerable weight and Lias had covered the queen’s head with his cloak which was smothering her cries. If he didn’t do something about it quickly it would smother her too. He ran down the stairs past Redruth who was clutching his bleeding arm and knelt by Daun’s head.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, you need to be quiet or you will bring our enemies down upon us and then we will all be dead.” Next to him the queen’s struggles were becoming weaker as the cloak smothered her breathing. “Your Majesty, I am going to remove the cloak from your head and let you up but you must be quiet.”

Daun stopped struggling and lay still so Barrin nodded to Lias and Tuckin to release her. They both moved back and the queen pulled the cloak from her face and sat up glaring at the four men around her. She rose slowly to her feet, took an unsteady step forward and slapped Barrin on the cheek as hard as she could making him stagger backwards.

“You stupid idiot, how dare you touch me!” she screamed at the top of her voice. “I’m the Queen of Vinmore and I will have you strung up by your ankles and your balls cut off for this!” She pointed a long finger at Lias and prodded him in the chest. “You will lose more than your balls, I’ll take your bloody head!” She turned to Tuckin and started screaming at him but suddenly stopped with a look of surprise on her face, her eyes rolled upwards and she collapsed into a heap.

Redruth stood behind her with a flagon in his hand and gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t want to hear what it was she was going to do to me.”

Barrin shook his head. “She’s been through a lot these last few days.”

“I think it’s unhinged her,” said Tuckin and then wished he hadn’t said it as Barrin scowled at him. “Anyway, what are we going to do about her? We can’t keep her tied and gagged all the time and we can’t leave her here to scream her head off or we will all be dead.”

“It’s a pity we can’t disguise her or change her into a pot girl or something so she would blend in with the rest of the people, but I guess she’s too well known for that to work.”

Tuckin gave an ironic laugh. “Don’t be daft, Lias. Can you see the Queen washing dishes, serving ale and having her tits fondled? Then she would really have something to scream about.”

They all laughed except Barrin who studied the unconscious woman. Everyone knew the story about the Princess Daun and how she had been kidnapped and held prisoner for four years before she escaped, but very few knew the truth of what had really happened. He knew the truth because he had been there and that gave him an idea. “Lias, Tuckin, stay with her, and when she starts to come round bind and gag her. Whatever you do, don’t let her make a sound. Redruth, come with me and get your arm bound and then we have work to do, I think I have a plan.”

*

Barrin stood by the horse’s head, his leather cap pulled as far over his eyes as he could without it making him look as if he had something to hide. The old sack which was wrapped around his shoulders was dirty and smelled of mould and did nothing to keep off the drizzle which fell relentlessly from a sullen sky. As old and as smelly as the sack was, it was in better condition than the tattered, half length breaches he wore which were soaked through and dripping water down his bare legs into his cracked sandals. He had seen people as poor as this earning a few dracs for a day’s work when he had been on patrol and had never given them a thought. If he ever had the chance to patrol Alewinder’s warehouse district again he would be more mindful of their needs.

Behind him his father sat on the wagon seat with the reins held loosely in his hands. Unlike his son he had a heavy, leather cloak with a deep hood wrapped around him and looked exactly what he was; a wealthy innkeeper. Next to him sat one of Essenland’s soldiers with a sword across his knees and a wet woollen cloak around his shoulders. He hadn’t been part of the plan, but as soon as they had led the dray horse and flat wagon into the square, the soldier had been assigned to accompany them to the warehouse and back again. Before they had left the square his father had pulled out a skin of grain spirit from beneath the driver’s seat, and had passed it to the soldier who, every now and then, took a swig when no one was watching. So far he was showing no signs that the spirit was affecting him, which was unfortunate.