The Fourth Horseman (32 page)

Willing to listen, especially if it meant
not getting killed, Gareth dropped off his horse and crouched
behind the hedge with the monks, several barely into manhood. They
clustered around him.

“
What’s happening?” Gareth
said.

“
It’s hand-to-hand in the
cloister!” said one monk, his hands tugging at his hood as if
pulling it close around his ears would protect him from the
violence. “Sir Philippe and Sir Amaury are in there with their
men—”

“
They’re fighting each
other?” Gareth looked towards the courtyard, and now that he knew
what to listen for, he could hear the clash of sword against sword.
“Stay here.”

Gareth pulled out his sword, opened the
gate, and went through the garden to the monastery square. Two
monks crossed the cobbles, coming from the stables and supporting a
third who was bleeding heavily from his side. They looked up at his
approach, and the fear in their faces brought Gareth’s heart into
his mouth.

“
Sir Gareth! Over here!”
Dai appeared in front of Gareth and grabbed his free hand. “Come
quickly! He’s hurt!”

Next to the wall outside the cloister, Llelo
crouched in front of Prince Rhun, who was holding his left bicep in
his right hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.

“
A scratch,” said Prince
Rhun as Gareth ran up. “It is no matter.”

“
What happened? Who did
this?” Kneeling in front of Rhun, Gareth forced Rhun’s hand aside
to inspect the wound. He’d taken a sharp stab that went through the
tissue all the way to the bone.

“
Amaury,” Rhun said. “I
couldn’t stop him.”

“
He’s in there with
Philippe!” Dai pointed towards the cloister.

Llelo pulled his shirt over his head and
handed it to Gareth, who tore off a strip at the bottom with his
teeth. “Quick thinking, Llelo.”

“
Is Prince Henry really
dead?” Dai said.

Gareth glanced at Dai’s white face out of
the corner of his eye as he wrapped the cloth around Rhun’s arm.
“No.” Rhun had lost more blood than was good for him, and his face
was pale. “How did you know Amaury was the assassin?”

Rhun gestured towards the body of a woman
lying on the ground near the stables. It was the servant/guard
Gareth had sent to the friary. “She—her name was Clarice—told me
what Amaury had done; I didn’t believe her at first. Stupid of me.
It was only after she confronted Amaury that I realized she was
telling the truth. I was protecting her when he stabbed me, and
then he ran her through.” Rhun choked on the last words.

“
I’m sorry,” Gareth
said.

Rhun’s face twisted in pain. “It was just
like you to send a woman.”

“
If I were Amaury, I would
have been gone long before now.” Gareth tied off the ends of the
bandage, hoping that it would hold until he could get Rhun to the
healer. “Why did he come back to the friary in the first
place?”

“
I imagine he thought he
had the time,” Rhun said, “and that nobody suspected him. By the
time I spoke to him, he’d already sent most of Philippe’s men to
search the countryside for the phantom assassin. In addition, his
wound had reopened, and he needed it bandaged. He was very calm at
first, trying to persuade Clarice and me that all was
well.”

“
If not for Clarice,
everyone here would have believed Amaury’s lies,” Dai
said.

“
At least I prevented him
from taking a horse,” Rhun said.

The sound of clashing swords still came from
the cloister. A man screamed in pain. Rhun pointed towards the door
with his free hand.

Gareth didn’t delay another moment. Picking
up his sword from where he’d left it in order to attend to Rhun, he
vaulted into the cloister and pulled up short in one of the
archways, trying to look everywhere at once and, most importantly,
to sort out the combatants. A half dozen men fought in and around
the friary well, with four others wounded or dead on the
ground.

“
I cannot let you pass!
You’re a traitor!”

Gareth turned at Philippe’s shout. Gareth
had come in through the western door; Philippe and Amaury stood
near the opposite exit that would take Amaury to the friary’s
eastern fields. Philippe held off Amaury with a sword, but even at
this distance Gareth could see Philippe’s wrist waver. Wounded
shoulder or not, Amaury closed in on the old spy and knocked away
his sword.

“
One man’s traitor is
another man’s patriot,” Amaury answered, and Gareth heard glee in
his voice.

“
Amaury!” Trying to
distract him from Philippe, Gareth raced down the covered walkway
towards the pair.

Amaury swung around, spied Gareth coming
towards him, and turned back to Philippe. Amaury then leapt towards
the old spy and caught him around the shoulder with his wounded
arm, which was already bleeding through his new bandage.

“
So.” Amaury pointed his
sword at Gareth. “You know me now.” With Philippe between them, all
Amaury had to do was turn and run through the door behind him to
reach freedom.

“
Let him go, Amaury.”
Gareth advanced two more steps.

“
You’re too clever by
half,” Amaury said. Then, as Gareth took another step towards him,
he flicked the point of his sword. “Tut! No closer or the old man
dies.”

“
I’m dying anyway, Sir
Gareth,” Philippe said. “Better quickly here than slowly in my
bed.”

The sound of fighting still came from behind
Gareth, but he didn’t dare turn around to see how it was
progressing or which side was winning, if he could even tell which
side was which. Amaury’s men and Philippe’s looked just alike.
“Your men fight for you, and yet you abandon them?”

“
They were paid well and
knew the risks.” Amaury backed with Philippe closer to the
doorway.

Philippe gritted his teeth. “I loved you
like a son.”

“
And taught me everything I
needed to know,” Amaury said. “The weaker you became, the more you
relied on me.”

“
Why would you do any of
this?” Gareth said.

Amaury scoffed. “Why? Two years ago William
of Ypres made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“
What about Ranulf?” Gareth
would have asked anything if it meant he could to prevent Amaury
from leaving, but this he actually wanted to know. He had been
keeping track of the time that had passed. Earl Robert’s men should
have been here by now. “Did you lie about his loyalty, too, to
protect him? He is your master, isn’t he?”

If anything, Amaury’s sneer deepened. “He
thinks he is clever, playing Stephen and Maud off each other,
switching sides so often even they don’t know which of them he
serves at any given time. I used him as I saw fit.” Amaury lifted
one shoulder. “He does serve the empress currently, not that it
matters. He’ll change sides again soon enough.”

“
But the crown—” Philippe
tried to speak.

“
This isn’t about the
crown, you imbecile. Let those fools tear the country apart between
them. It matters not to me. This is about money, in my case, and
power, in Ranulf’s.”

“
Why did you help me when I
came to Chester?” Gareth said.

“
It suited me,” Amaury
said. “I knew Ranulf was negotiating with Cadwaladr. I thought it
might be useful to have maintained good relations with King Owain
through other means if things between those two went
sour.”

“
Which they did,” Gareth
said.

Amaury’s eyes narrowed at Gareth. “I would
have thought your prince would be thanking me for what I’ve done,
fostering chaos and killing Prince Henry, instead of hunting me
down. Gwynedd can only benefit from war in England. As it is, you
should know that I’ve had to take steps, for my own safety, to
ensure that you won’t harm me now.”

“
What steps?” Gareth wanted
to close the distance between them, but the edge of Amaury’s sword
was a hair’s-breadth from Philippe’s neck.

Amaury smirked. “I knew as soon as Alard
dropped that body at your feet that I needed a new plan. I knew you
would follow this investigation wherever it led until you found the
answers or died. Why couldn’t you just go home? For Christ’s sake,
my man hurt your woman! No—” Amaury shook his head. “I needed
leverage, just in case I found myself in this exact position. I
always had the most to fear from you, as you are an honorable man.”
Amaury wasn’t complimenting Gareth.

“
Leverage?” Gareth took
another step but froze as Amaury broke Philippe’s skin with the
edge of his sword. “What leverage?”

“
If I don’t send word to my
man who guards Prince Hywel, by sundown he will be dead, and the
girl with him. Their bodies will rot in their hiding place until
the return of Arthur.”

Gareth’s hand clenched
around the hilt of his sword. He wanted to ram the point right
through Amaury’s gullet. He’d
liked
the man. “Where are they?”

“
Drop your sword and let me
go,” Amaury said, “after which I will tell you.” When Gareth still
hesitated, Amaury added, “Even if you refuse, even if you capture
me and try to force the truth from me, I’ll take their location to
my grave.”

“
You wouldn’t,” Gareth
said.

“
I would out of
spite.”

Gareth had no choice. He bent his knees and
slowly lowered his sword to the ground.

“
No!” Philippe
said.

Amaury’s eyes lit, clearly delighted at the
combination of Gareth’s capitulation and Philippe’s despair. Gareth
hated to see that expression on Amaury’s face, but Gareth’s first
duty was to his prince, not to justice.

“
Your man could have killed
Gwen—or Prior Rhys—when you sent men to take David’s body. Why
didn’t he?” Gareth said.

“
I don’t hurt women. My man
was overzealous. Besides, I couldn’t have Gwen killed because you
would have been like a rabid dog at a bone until you uncovered
every secret in Newcastle. I couldn’t risk it.”

“
Rosalind wasn’t a woman?”
Gareth said.

Amaury’s lips twisted in distaste. “What is
necessary isn’t always what we might wish.”

“
Why didn’t you just
kill
me
, then?
We’ve been alone a dozen times.”

“
By God, I wish I had.” And
with that, Amaury shoved Philippe towards Gareth and
fled.

“
Damn it.” Gareth held
Philippe, staggering under the sudden weight. Amaury had caught him
off guard, but once Gareth recovered, he found that Philippe
weighed hardly more than Gwen. “I misjudged. I didn’t mean to make
him angry. He didn’t tell me where Prince Hywel and Mari are being
kept.”

“
It isn’t your fault, and
you guessed right—about everything,” Philippe said. “It’s good to
know the truth. I should have listened to you sooner.”

As Gareth lowered him onto a bench against
the wall, Philippe grasped Gareth’s shoulder and shook him. “Leave
me. He mustn’t get away.” While Philippe’s voice was weak, it was
also urgent.

Gareth couldn’t agree more and wasn’t going
to deny a dying man his last wish. He picked up his sword and ran
out the door after Amaury. Neither man had a horse, but Gareth had
a strong will and a sound body, unlike Amaury, whose shoulder was
bleeding heavily. Gareth raced into the friary’s cemetery, dodging
tombstones that had been placed haphazardly rather than in rows,
almost slipping twice on the wet grass. He was saved the second
time only by hanging onto a tombstone with a tall cross at the top.
Amaury appeared to be aiming for a shed that sat on higher ground
on the far side of the cemetery, beyond which lay a thick wood.

Gareth huffed up the hill and had just come
around the shed when he pulled up. Hywel, Prior Rhys, and Alard
stood in a half-circle on the other side of Amaury, whose back was
to Gareth. Mari peered down at the scene from one of the lower
branches of a nearby oak tree while her father stood sentry beneath
it.

“
Going somewhere, my
friend?” Alard said.

Amaury flicked the tip of
his sword at Alard and let out a laugh that was disconcerting,
nearly maniacal. “I don’t fear you.” Amaury’s laughter brought to
Gareth’s mind a vision of one of King Owain’s companions whom
they’d cornered in his treachery last winter. The man had killed
himself rather than face the wrath of those he’d wronged.
That
wasn’t going to
happen again if Gareth had any say in the matter.

Only fifty feet separated Amaury from
Gareth, and Gareth could see, even from the back, that Amaury’s
wound nagged him. He was hunching his left side, instinctively
trying to protect himself against the pain. Gareth started forward
at a run, his boots pounding on the turf. He was sure that Amaury
could hear him, but the traitor didn’t turn to look until Gareth
was only a few paces away, at which point Gareth launched himself
forward, catching Amaury around the shoulders and wrapping him up
in a tight embrace.

Amaury screamed as they hit the soft grass
of the churchyard. Gareth rolled off him and sat up, unhurt, but
Amaury writhed in pain, holding his shoulder and unable to rise.
The other men closed in. Amaury’s sword had fallen from his hand at
the impact, and Prior Rhys kicked it away. Amaury glared up at his
captors, his face a rictus of hate and pain.

“Shall we try this again from the
beginning?” Alard said.