The Scrivener's Tale #1

EIGHTEEN

Darcelle stood before Burrage with a look of incomprehension. ‘She’s gone to see my mother?’
‘Queen Florentyna is paying a visit to the dowager at Rittylworth Monastery, yes, your highness.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’
‘She only left a short while ago with a few men. Forgive me, highness, I cannot say why she did not inform you,’ he lied, knowing the queen expected this of him. ‘I suspect she wants to discuss your upcoming nuptials with the dowager.’
She gave Burrage an open sneer. ‘Now we both know you’re lying,’ she accused him. ‘Florentyna would rather choke on her own spit than have discourse with my mother over my wedding.’
Burrage blinked at the rebuke but maintained his poise. ‘I wouldn’t know, your highness — that is simply a thought that has occurred to me,’ he said.
‘You and Florentyna discuss everything, including me. I’m fairly certain you’d know why my sister took off in the middle of the night and stole away from the palace to see the one person she despises more than any other. And the fact that you’re not telling me, Burrage, confirms my suspicions that Florentyna means my mother harm.’
‘Highness! Please, do not suggest such a thing. The queen would not —’
‘The queen, Burrage, slapped my face only yesterday. I can still feel its sting and I know you heard the blow because as always you were probably eavesdropping.’ Burrage gasped. ‘Is that the action of a balanced person? Is this how we want our sovereign to behave, with her emotions out of control?’
Burrage frowned. ‘What can I say, your highness, to reassure you that the dowager is not in harm’s way?’
‘Nothing you say could reassure me, Burrage, because you’re the queen’s right hand and I wouldn’t trust a word from you, just like I no longer feel I can trust her. My mother said this would happen. My mother assured me that Florentyna wanted her dead and I’ve been the one promising her that my sister would not do any such thing. I was blinded by my own loyalty to Florentyna. But her actions yesterday, her demands that I treat Tamas with contempt, and now, taking a few men with her to Rittylworth, can only mean she is no longer trustworthy.’
‘What can I say to ease your mind, highness?’
Darcelle did not respond. She simply smirked at him and Burrage couldn’t help but note a sense of cunning in her expression.
Rittylworth nestled in a comfortable valley, as though hugged in an affectionate embrace by its surrounding countryside. To its north were hills and beyond that the Razor Mountains. To its less barren south were fertile pastures which gave way to soft woodland flanking the River Tague. It was this river that Queen Florentyna and her men had followed.
She had wanted to travel as quietly and as inconspicuously as possible, choosing to ride, rather than travel in a carriage. But no sovereign and certainly no titular empress could arrive in small hamlets and not be noticed, given that she travelled with a retinue of impressive-looking guards. Florentyna had haggled with Burrage, who was insisting upon an armed guard of thirty men.
She’d laughed at him. ‘Let’s throw in some heralds for good measure, shall we? They can trumpet my arrival through any villages and towns along the way.’
‘Majesty,’ he had begun again patiently.
‘Burrage, I know, I know. But not this time. These are my wishes. Three guards, none in uniform. We will travel without colours — no dragon insignia of Morgravia, no imperial crest, no regal purple. No bowing and no formal greetings or meetings. I am travelling quietly. I will be plainly clothed so as to move as just another noble wife on a journey from south to north. The less attention we draw, the fewer questions are asked.’
Burrage’s mouth had opened and remained open and wordless since she’d insisted on three men only. Now he just stared at her. She smiled as she watched him.
‘Are you in pain, Burrage?’ she’d jested.
‘My heart will surely fail if you persist with this lunacy, your majesty.’
She’d cut him a wry smile. ‘Lunacy, eh?’
‘My queen, please, you must see reason,’ he’d pleaded.
‘There is nothing to see. I am under no immediate threat,’ she’d said, trying to ignore Fynch’s warning. ‘If we do this well and with minimum fuss, then I believe it diminishes potential for any problem.’
She’d seen he knew she was right. Now she would compromise.
‘Burrage, if it makes you feel more at ease, send an extra number of men to escort me home. By then, people may know that I’m in the region and certainly Saria’s demented howls will be heard throughout the realms,’ she’d said smiling. ‘I may need some solid protection by then.’
‘I will do that, your majesty. You can count on there being two dozen of our house guard to escort you home.’
‘And a herald or two, don’t forget,’ she’d said, touching his arm affectionately. ‘Thank you for understanding. Now, not a word to anyone. I will leave the palace quietly. Brief Felyx and ask him to choose his most reliable pair of companions and that will make up our quartet to travel north.’
‘Understood, majesty. What about your maid and —’
‘No, Burrage. I am travelling without servants.’
‘But even a noblewoman would have a maidservant,’ he reasoned and although he’d sounded calm, she’d been able to detect the panic underlying his even tone.
‘Not this one.’
Burrage had sighed worriedly and shaken his head, but he’d hurried away to find Felyx while the queen had moved at a far less frantic pace to her chambers to pack a few essentials, including a single gown in which to meet Saria.
Their trip north had been uneventful. Certainly not boring though. Florentyna had been unable to remember the last time she’d ridden out of the palace grounds on a long trip on horseback. She’d realised with a silent groan that it was as far back as childhood, when her father had indulged her with a ride alongside him to Argorn for talks with the southern noble families. It had been a treat, before Saria had come into their lives and when Darcelle was little more than a cherubic, unbelievably pretty infant princess with only a few words to her repertoire. Her much-improved repertoire continued to burn in Florentyna’s mind.
Now, as she stared at peaceful Rittylworth, she hoped with all of her heart that she could carry off this confrontation with the grace her household believed she possessed.
They had deliberately not hurried their journey, for galloping riders drew attention, but she was eager to get this discussion with Saria over and done with. Felyx ambled up on his horse from where it had been drinking from a small brook.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it, your majesty?’
‘It is indeed. I regret that I’ve taken so long to visit. Burrage mentioned its history is a colourful one.’
The queen’s soldier scratched his head. He looked so different out of the rich colour and heraldry of his uniform. The trio of men were well armed, of course, but they looked like hired mercenaries offering safe escort to a noblewoman. Florentyna looked the least changed because she was not one for rich brocades, silks and flounces and her courtiers were used to seeing her in more neutral colours and plainer-style fabrics. She refused to wear the face ‘paint’ and jewellery that Darcelle used to enhance her features. Now, in her split skirt she looked like the Florentyna they knew from whenever she went riding. She’d taken the precaution of wearing a hooded cloak just in case some wily fellow traveller made any connection, but they’d come to Rittylworth without attracting much more than a second glance, including a night spent at Dryden Vale. Felyx had deliberately chosen that hamlet because it was celebrating its annual well-dressing. All the wells and springs of the region were grandly decorated with plants and flowers, some sites so ornate and picturesque that many years previously people had begun visiting from far and wide to view the spectacle. The gathering crowds and general festivities meant that strangers passing through were not an uncommon sight at this time of year.
They’d had little trouble in gaining refuge for the night in the sprawling home of a friendly noble who was unhappily having to miss the annual fair, but had gladly given permission for one of his cottages on the property to be used by ‘a friend of the queen’. Florentyna and her escort were not greeted by the family — as quietly requested — but the butler was on hand and a maidservant was provided. Florentyna and her escort were gone by dawn and were considered the perfect houseguests as a result, having left the place almost exactly as they found it, with the plentiful wine stores barely touched.
She now shivered slightly in the thin midday sun. Summer was still a couple of moons from warming the land. Their ride this morning had been short. The long haul had been the previous day but Florentyna was feeling every moment of it through her aching body.
‘You should ask Brother Hoolyn; I’m sure he’ll be glad to relate Rittylworth’s stories,’ said Felyx as they gazed at the monastery.
She nodded. She’d paid attention to her history too. ‘Yes, including a blot on our own family’s history.’
‘Not your family, majesty. As I understand it, it is King Celimus who shoulders the responsibility for that tragedy.’
‘How awful it must have been,’ she remarked, remembering the tale that the men of prayer were slaughtered where they stood, their monastery burned, their senior monk crucified and torched, left to smoulder on his cross. It seemed unthinkable that a Morgravian sovereign would perpetrate such suffering upon his own. It was that murky time in the history of her forebears though, where inexplicable events occurred. They included her great-grandmother, Valentyna, marrying King Celimus, who was poisoned — and dead — within hours of the marriage by his own chancellor, who then mysteriously died. Then the new Queen Valentyna had taken everyone by surprise, declaring her love for the rogue King Cailech of the Razors, whom everyone thought had been executed, but she married him and began the new dynasty. No-one understood this clouded past, least of all the historians who had recorded what they knew and what witnesses had seen; events nevertheless remained shrouded in mystery.
‘You wouldn’t know it now,’ Felyx continued.
She returned from her thoughts. ‘No, the monastery looks so peaceful and beautiful. Soon it will have the shrieks of the dowager to contend with,’ she said, with an arched eyebrow.
Felyx shrugged. ‘If it pleases your majesty,’ he said and they both shared a quiet chuckle.
‘Lead on,’ she said, and the royal quartet eased its way onto the main path that would lead them into Rittylworth Monastery, where a dowager awaited.
No-one noticed the two riders, with their horses’ hooves bound in linens, steal up onto the rise behind them.
Cassien and Hamelyn departed Orkyld within moments of emerging from Wevyr’s house. Cassien had toyed with the idea of seeing Vivienne once more, but it had been awkward and curiously painful to leave her that morning and it would do neither of them any good to linger on what had occurred between them. If their paths were meant to cross again, they would.
Wevyr’s revelation about the dragon and Ham’s subsequent statement about the ‘Triad’ and then his fainting were baffling. He still had no idea why Fynch had bled into the metal, but it was obviously an important element for what Fynch believed was necessary for Cassien to keep Florentyna safe and to help destroy the demon. All Wevyr had been able to say was that Fynch had insisted, that it was critical to the role of the weapons … but they remained clueless to why it was necessary.
He glanced at the boy riding alongside. Ham appeared fully recovered now and had woken from his stupor full of apology and surprise at his collapse. He couldn’t recall fainting, but he had not forgotten what he’d claimed and remained as baffled as Cassien as to what it all meant.
‘Nothing more has surfaced,’ Ham said, aware of Cassien’s study of him, ‘in case you’re wondering.’
Cassien sighed. ‘I was. You saw three people in your vision. But my confusion is that you said you saw into the crucible. How can that be when you were looking through a peephole in the wall?’
Ham nodded. ‘I know. I’ve been trying to work that out myself. I wasn’t dreaming, I know that much. What I’d seen had been blocked from me until now; now I can remember it vividly. One moment I was staring at Master Fynch and Master Wevyr, the next I was looking into the crucible.’ He shrugged. ‘I know that doesn’t make sense.’
‘It makes it easier if you accept that magic is involved.’
Ham cast Cassien a worried look. ‘I didn’t want to be the one to say it,’ he admitted.
‘There’s no other way of looking at this. As it is, I have had to accept that you can hear my sword talking when no-one else can even hear it moving. It is just the sword?’
Ham nodded. ‘The other blades do make noises but nothing like the sword’s range of sounds.’
Cassien shrugged. ‘So, we’re now both going forward on the strength of a man’s word, that man being impossibly old and familiar with people and ways and events from previous centuries. More magic. He put blood into my sword because he believes I’m going to need whatever magic the blade is imbued with, through the bleeding presumably.’
‘The magic of the dragon?’ Ham cut in. ‘Royalty?’
‘Who are the three?’
Ham shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Cassien, what is your role? You said you’re going forward on the strength of Master Fynch’s word. What has he asked of you? Perhaps that might tell us more about the three.’
It was time. Hamelyn already knew too much, and besides, he was involved — Ham’s vision, his hearing of the sword and his deliberately meeting Cassien were all being orchestrated, but why?
Cassien nodded. ‘I’m going to tell you everything that’s happened to me to this moment and perhaps together we can make some sense of it.’
‘Where are we going by the way?’
‘To Pearlis,’ he replied.
If Ham was surprised he didn’t show it; for someone so young he was impressively composed, Cassien thought.
‘Then we need to make a decision now whether we skirt the woodland and head south to the capital via Rothwell, or we bear east toward Rittylworth, Renkyn and down through the foothills,’ Ham advised.
‘I don’t mind; whichever is fastest. What do you suggest?’
‘There will be more travellers on the easterly route, but via Rothwell is definitely a less direct route. And going east, there’s a monastery at Rittylworth that people talk about as being very good to travellers. We can get food for ourselves and our horses, probably a place for a short rest.’
Cassien nodded. ‘The horses are our priority. How long to Rittylworth?’
‘We often get people in Orkyld travelling up that way. It’s a few hours riding, and Renkyn is not far from Rittylworth. I gather it’s a direct route from Renkyn into the capital. The best part of a day’s ride probably.’
Cassien gave him a smile of gratitude. ‘Whatever magic pushed you into my path, Ham, I’m glad we met. Your wealth of knowledge never fails to astonish.’
‘One more thing I should probably mention,’ the boy said, frowning. ‘It’s only just occurred to me as I’ve been prodding at that memory of the vision.’
Cassien looked at him expectantly.
Ham gave a crooked grin. ‘The Triad. It’s definitely three males.’
‘Is that important?’ Cassien queried, his mind racing to what it might mean.
‘I can’t say,’ Ham replied, ‘but what is interesting is that I think one of them in that crucible vision was a boy.’
Cassien’s reins went slack when he turned to regard Ham with a look of surprise.
The boy shrugged. ‘I’m just telling you what I saw.’
‘Before you passed out you said the Triad was forming.’
‘Yes, but I don’t know what I meant by it.’
Cassien stared into the distance as his thoughts gathered some solidity. ‘You were sent to find me. We were strangers yet here we are travelling together.’
Ham nodded, frowning. ‘Perhaps what you tell me about your life will prompt something more for me. It’s this way,’ he said, pointing, ‘to Rittylworth.’
‘Let’s go. My tale will help pass the journey,’ Cassien said and they veered east toward the monastery just as their queen was leaving the hamlet of Dryden Vale for the same destination.
The monks tending the fields nearby waved to the quartet as they rode their horses slowly up the road leading to the main courtyard of the monastery. Florentyna smiled as she lifted her hand, enjoying the anonymity and admiring the monks’ toil on the hard earth, still untilled from the winter gone; with thaw almost finished they were preparing to nourish the soil.
‘What do they grow here?’ she asked absently.
‘What don’t they grow, majesty, is more to the point,’ Felyx replied. ‘Rittylworth is self-sufficient and it also provides generously for the less fortunate in the surrounding hamlets. Brother Hoolyn is a firm believer in the high monastic way, whereas some leaders of the monastery in the recent past had allowed the old rules to slacken.’
‘Don’t expect rich pickings for a midday meal, you mean?’ Florentyna jested.
‘A broth if you’re fortunate, majesty, especially as they have no idea that the most important guest they could imagine is strolling her horse up their path.’
‘I haven’t felt such freedom in many moons.’ The senior soldier laughed. ‘You know, Felyx,’ Florentyna mused, ‘I’m really enjoying seeing you so relaxed as well. I can’t remember when I last saw you laugh.’
He shifted in his saddle to regard her sheepishly. ‘Yes, majesty, forgive me. I have certainly been a grouchy soul of late. Being out here amongst the real life of Morgravia has —’
Felyx never finished his sentence. The arrow took him through the back of the neck. Florentyna watched with horror as the arrowhead exploded through Felyx’s throat, felling him as he grinned at her. The remaining soldiers reacted swiftly, flinging themselves from their horses towards her. She felt herself being thrown back as the sound of another arrow whizzed from afar to land harmlessly in the field just beyond.
Yells erupted and monks came running as a third arrow sang its horrible song through the air.
One of the guards held her down. ‘Don’t move!’ he growled, forgetting all protocol. ‘Erle? Erle?’
Erle lay dead with an arrow in his back, they soon realised.
Without further discussion, the remaining soldier dragged Florentyna back to her feet but kept his huge frame covering her. Monks had arrived, looking at them aghast.
‘What has happened here?’ one of them said uselessly.
‘Behind the horse,’ the soldier growled to the queen, ignoring those clustering around them. ‘Use it for cover.’
‘I understand,’ she said, not sure where her calm was coming from.
‘Right, on my mark, we move. Carefully.’ She nodded, knowing she looked fearful but he gave her a reassuring nod. ‘I shall get you there safely, your majesty, even if it means taking a full quiver of arrows in my body.’ And with little pause, he said, ‘Now.’
With monks’ cassocks fluttering around the horse, which also hid Florentyna, the soldier she knew to be called Brom led her slowly but steadily up the path. No more arrows landed, but two good men lay in their wake.
Brother Hoolyn had come to see what the commotion was about.
‘Men are dead, these people are being attacked,’ one of the elder monks exclaimed.
Others nodded mutely, pointing to the bodies. Hoolyn, shocked, but acting quickly and decisively, ushered them into the cover of the cloisters. Without tarrying for questions, he hurried them swiftly through corridors, up stairways and along tiny passages until they were high in the gods of the new bell tower of Rittylworth Monastery.
The older man looked at them both with incomprehension, but as they were breathing hard, he waited a moment or two for each of them to catch their breath.
Finally, he asked the inevitable. ‘Now tell me, who has brought these deaths to a peaceful house of Shar?’
They both shook their heads mutely. Brom spoke first. ‘Brother, we have no idea who has attacked. We are as shocked as you. Those were my fellow soldiers killed. My friends.’
‘Soldiers? Shar’s breath. Who are you?’
Florentyna pulled her hood down. ‘Brother Hoolyn, forgive us bringing fear to the monastery. Brom tells you the truth. We have no idea who has attacked us. But to answer your question, I am Florentyna.’ She gave a sad shrug. ‘The queen.’
He stared at her in astonishment. ‘Queen Florentyna,’ he repeated as if he hadn’t heard right. ‘Of Morgravia?’ he qualified.
‘I’m afraid so, Brother,’ she admitted with a wan half-smile.
He put a hand against his chest, as though his heart had skipped a beat. ‘And we weren’t told?’
‘I have come to see the dowager.’
‘Why the secrecy?’ he demanded, forgetting himself.
‘It had to be so. Again, forgive me,’ Florentyna said, ignoring his improper tone.
‘Wait, how can I be sure you are her majesty?’ Hoolyn queried, looking between them cautiously.
Brom seemed as though he was ready to knock the man senseless, but Florentyna gave him a glance of caution. ‘Of course.’ She reached beneath her cloak and drew out the chain she wore around her neck, from which hung her father’s ring. It bore the dragon insignia of the royal crest of Morgravia. She was supposed to wear the ring, but it was an entirely impractical size and shape for a woman’s hand; the chain had been cast in matching gold and she could still wear it at all times.
Hoolyn leaned in to stare at the ring and gave a gasp of fresh fear as he bowed low. ‘Your majesty, please forgive me. I don’t know that you are safe, however. We must assess the situation.’ He kept staring at her as though he wanted to pinch himself.
She touched his arm and smiled as she looked back to her companion. ‘Brom, we must see to our friends immediately. What if they appear dead, but perhaps are only wounded? Felyx …’ She gave a sound of soft anguish. ‘We were laughing …’ She gathered her wits, knowing she mustn’t lose any control now. Florentyna took a deep breath and looked at the head monk. ‘We have travelled in complete secret, Brother Hoolyn, so someone has clearly been following us, or has been told where to find us.’
‘Who knew you were coming?’ he asked.
‘Brom, anyone else other than Felyx and Erle from your side?’
He shook his head. ‘No, majesty. Felyx swore us to secrecy. We weren’t even allowed to give any clue that we were leaving the barracks. He gave orders for us to do some chores that took us away from the palace. Others think we’ve gone to check on some new horses that the royal stables have purchased.’
‘Yes, I knew he’d be careful. So that leaves only my side. The only person who knows I was departing the palace was Burrage and I trust him with my life.’
‘Felyx wouldn’t —’ Brom began.
‘No, absolutely, he wouldn’t. I have complete faith in him.’
‘Your majesty,’ Hoolyn interrupted, ‘if I may, right now I’d suggest we worry about keeping you safe rather than who is behind this. Brom, is it?’ he said to her companion.
‘It is,’ Brom replied.
‘Well, none of us can protect our queen as well as you can. This tower is hard to reach and arguably the safest spot.’
‘We have good vision from here too,’ Brom agreed, prowling around the four window openings.
Hoolyn nodded. ‘Please, if you would, stay here with her majesty, and I will go to assess the situation.’
They waited impatiently as he sped off.
‘Brom?’
‘They’re both dead, majesty. Don’t hold any hope.’
She swallowed. Poor Felyx. ‘How many do you think?’
‘It felt like an army at the time but it would only take a couple of men with the vantage of high ground.’
‘Were they just highwaymen, do you think, a random attack on a noble party?’
His mouth twisted as he thought about this, but not for very long. ‘I doubt it. They were too accurate. Good archers. Well trained. No doubt excellent weapons for that range.’
She knew he was right, but not for any of those reasons. ‘The arrow that killed Felyx was meant for me. If he’d not leaned forward in his saddle at that moment, the arrowhead would have been in my eye, not his throat.’
‘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.’