The Scrivener's Tale #1

TWENTY-EIGHT

Ham held his breath as he watched King Tamas meet Princess Darcelle emerging from her bedchamber. She looked flushed from her bath — or was it excitement? Over the top of a pale-blue knitted shift, she wore a cream lace dress, studded with pearls. The attire was ‘fussy’ in Ham’s opinion but it certainly showed off Darcelle’s exquisite shape as though it had been painted on her.
She reached out her hands to the king. Ham was impressed that Tamas didn’t hesitate but grasped them warmly and held them against his cheeks.
‘You’ve never looked more desirable,’ he said.
‘Tamas,’ she exclaimed in a more breathy voice than he was used to hearing. ‘You took your time, you had me worried.’
‘You must never worry about me, my love.’
Ham watched her cut him a glance.
‘Why is the boy here?’
‘There’s a lot going on, Darcelle — my retinue is understandably concerned for me, for both of us. This is Hamelyn. He’s been appointed my personal messenger and I’ve given my word to my guard that he will rarely leave my side. I cannot linger either, my dear. Forgive me, but there is much to do. Obviously all the formalities have been cancelled and we must make arrangements to return to Cipres.’
Hamelyn watched the queen’s sister shift her attention fully to him and he realised all of their suspicions were surely confirmed. Cyricus had not seen him previously, and thus could not know him. If Darcelle had still been present perhaps he would have seen a flare of recognition in her eyes; instead, he fancied he could see the evil spirit lurking behind the cold gaze that felt like winter on his skin.
‘You are obviously seeing more of my betrothed than I, Hamelyn of Cipres.’
‘Your highness,’ Ham muttered deliberately, lowering his gaze to show deference, but really not wishing to look upon the cruel eyes.
‘Tell me why a visiting merchant’s death is so important to our proceedings, Tamas. The man was barely known in the court so his absence is not going to create any large disturbance.’ Ham watched her observing the king’s surprised reaction to her words and noted the way she covered her callous response. ‘What I mean is, Tentrell dropped dead. It could have happened to him at any time and anywhere. It was inconvenient that his heart chose that moment to give out but we shouldn’t let his demise disrupt our nuptials … surely.’
‘It’s far more serious, though, Darcelle, and it’s not only Tentrell. Have you already forgotten that your chamberlain died through the night, not to mention so many other inexplicable deaths around the palace? I believe there is danger for all of us.’
Darcelle adopted a peeved expression. ‘I haven’t forgotten, Tamas — don’t talk to me as though I’m a child.’
‘Oh, forgive me, my love,’ Tamas said and pulled her close. Darcelle moved to receive his kiss, but Ham noticed that the king cleverly avoided contact on the lips, making soothing sounds and hugging her, ‘but you are as precious as a child to me and thus too valuable to risk.’
Ham moved cautiously and slowly into the shadows in order that Darcelle could forget his presence and he could observe her without being too obvious.
She appeared comforted by this. ‘Where is Florentyna?’
The king shrugged. ‘I left her at the chapel. She’d gone to pay her respects to Burrage. Quite a shock for her, I gather.’
Darcelle lifted a shoulder, gave a careless smirk.
‘Do you remember that beautiful river journey we took together when you visited Cipres?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, smiling lazily. ‘Why do you mention it?’
‘Well, there was a tiny island with that chapel I showed you?’
She nodded encouragingly. ‘Go on …’ Darcelle said, turning away to stare out the window.
‘It was built by my great-great-grandmother for the burial of her daughter, who died suddenly, far too young.’
‘Yes, I recall it. It was a beautiful spot.’
‘High on a cliff,’ he said.
‘That’s right.’
‘And you saw the eagle, said it reminded you of me.’
She giggled. ‘I can be fanciful at times, my king. And what did you want to tell me about this chapel?’
‘I thought it might make the perfect place to take our vows. It’s just that Florentyna mentioned in her distress that so much has ruined our nuptials —’
‘And she’s suggested we sail for Cipres as soon as possible and get married in your realm for expediency?’
Ham watched the king’s eyes narrow. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite so bluntly — as though it is a devious move — but yes, in essence that’s precisely what she’s suggesting. We could leave tomorrow. I will ready my men, the ships. We can be prepared by tonight if I push hard.’
‘Tamas, don’t you see this is playing directly into her hands? She wants me gone. I’m a thorn in her side and —’
‘I have never got that impression, dear one,’ Tamas cut in. Ham could see he didn’t want to allow Darcelle to get worked up. ‘She simply made the offer. Look, humour me. I will ready the Ciprean retinue for departure and we shall take a few days to consider our position. If you wish to remain, so be it. We can reorganise the festivities. But if you choose to sail, we can slip our moorings in a blink … if that’s your choice.’
‘So … it’s up to me?’ she flirted.
‘It will always be up to you, my love,’ he responded in kind. ‘Now,’ he put a finger in the air and then touched his lips, with a grin, as if correcting himself, ‘Ham, hunt down a man called Menster, and also Captain Wentzl. Tell Wentzl to meet me in the bailey.’
Ham frowned. He didn’t know Menster or where to find him. ‘Yes, your majesty,’ he said gravely, and bowed before making for the door. Obviously the king wanted him to leave, but Ham didn’t want to walk out of the door without Tamas in tow.
‘And Ham?’
He looked back. ‘Tell Menster that the homing pigeons need to be sent. He’ll know what to do.’
‘Yes, my king.’ Ham had absolutely no idea what it all meant but he turned sombrely and bowed to the princess. ‘Your highness.’ She barely spared him a glance, but Ham felt he had to do something to help the king extricate himself. ‘Er, your majesty?’ Tamas turned his way. ‘You asked for a reminder that you had to give some instructions directly to Felder Goring. I gather it was urgent. Forgive me for presuming,’ he said, lowering his eyes.
‘Felder Goring?’ Tamas repeated looking at Ham. ‘Ah yes, of course. Well done, boy. Off you go now.’ Ham deliberately turned, but moved slowly. He heard Tamas make a soft groan of suffering. ‘Forgive me, my dear one. I must beg your leave. I am going directly to make provisions for our departure and once I have set that in motion, I intend to find us two horses and we are going to ride away from this nonsense and have some quiet time together.’
Ham could hear the excitement in Darcelle’s voice. ‘Truly?’
Ham opened the door.
‘Truly. Give me until next bell and be ready. I shall come for you. And I plan to banish my bodyguards,’ he teased. ‘I want time genuinely alone with you,’ he chuckled.
Ham heard Darcelle give a pleasurable tinkle of laughter. The sound was chilling and he imagined Cyricus thinking that time alone with Tamas would provide the opportunity for transference into the king’s body.
‘Don’t make me wait too long, my …’ Ham lost the last few words as he closed the door, praying that Tamas would get out of there fast. The king had managed to get Ham out of the room and Ham figured Tamas would not want to find him still lurking, so he began to trot away from the palatial quarters of Princess Darcelle, hoping to hear the sound of her chamber door opening.
Tamas was upon him before he knew. ‘What are you still doing here, Ham? Run! Run now for the stables. Look like you can’t spare a moment for anyone, but to deliver my message and I want two nondescript horses saddled immediately.’
‘What about you, majesty?’ Ham spluttered, still shocked at the speed with which Tamas had caught up with him.
‘Don’t worry about me. Just get there and be ready.’
Ham ran, taking the grand steps two at a time even though he knew he should be using the back stairs of Stoneheart. This was the quickest way and anyone would struggle to keep up with him if they wanted to catch and punish him. He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw Tamas moving swiftly, but toward the wing where his chambers were.
‘Hurry, King Tamas, hurry,’ he breathed, swerving to avoid two guards passing by at the bottom of the stairs and then he was hurtling into the bailey, running as fast as he could toward the stables, his mind reeling with the memory of Fynch’s voice in his head, a wolf talking to him, the concept of the Triad and an odd notion about himself, Cassien and Gabe that he wasn’t yet prepared to explore.
Tamas was moving as quickly as he dared too, relief flooding through him that he’d got Hamelyn out of harm’s way for the time being and that he’d also made it out of Darcelle’s chambers without having to kiss her. His promise about their sharing some private time later, without minders, was a barefaced lie concocted on the spot.
The ruse had appeared to work, appeasing her for the time being, but he knew two things for sure, and the first was that Darcelle, the young woman he’d chosen to be his queen, was dead. At no time during their brief conversation was there so much as a flash of the Darcelle he knew, only mimicry of who she’d been. It still looked like Darcelle, had her voice, moved in her graceful manner, showed glimpses of her petulance and self-absorption, and it even laughed in that particularly gleeful tone of hers. But he was grateful that he’d taken the risk, for now he understood that his beautiful wife-to-be was dead; her soul fled to a safer place with her god … for there had never been a trip on the river together, there was no chapel on a cliff built by his great-great-grandmother for anyone. He’d fabricated a memory and the demon walking in Darcelle had gone along with it. If he possessed her memories, he hadn’t bothered to refer to them.
Beyond having to accept now that Darcelle was dead he was also sure that the monster using Darcelle’s body would not trust him. Darcelle may have been smart, cunning even, and more than capable of intrigue, but what he knew they’d also shared from their first meeting was a mutual trust. For the moment, the demon would give Tamas the benefit of the doubt so the King of Cipres had given himself a slight head start to get away from the Morgravian palace and hopefully the capital.
Sending his young sidekick off to find Menster was a ruse. Menster didn’t exist and Tamas was sure Hamelyn would work it out and head, as asked, for the stables. He burst into his rooms and found Captain Wentzl awaiting him, worry deeply etched in his face as he swung around at the king’s arrival.
‘Majesty!’ he said, relief now smoothing out his expression.
‘I know. Wentzl, hear me now,’ Tamas said, peeling off clothes and rapidly moving around his chamber as he spoke, gathering up items into a sack. ‘We are leaving. All our men are to assemble in the bailey and I want you to get them galloping hard for the western harbour and our ship. Send word ahead to the men we left behind to ready her sails.’
Wentzl frowned, watching the king, now almost naked.
‘We’re leaving, your majesty?’
‘Indeed.’
His captain baulked. ‘King Tamas —’
Tamas shook his head, pulling on his favourite leathers and riding garb, instantly transforming him from king to noble. ‘I wish I had something even less obvious,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll find it along the way.’
‘Along the way?’ Wentzl repeated. ‘Your majesty, please, what is happening?’
‘It’s too long in the explanation, other than to say that we are in danger here and if you value your king’s life, you will not fight me on this and you will carry out my instructions without querying me further. I know it flies in the face of everything you know you should be doing for me, but I am attempting to save our lives. If we do this any other way, I will surely die and so will a lot of Cipreans.’
Wentzl looked at his king, baffled, as Tamas pulled on his old worn and much loved boots. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ he said, thrilled to be out of the regalia of royalty. ‘Now where is that prized bow of mine?’
‘It was put in this chest, your majesty,’ his companion said. He fetched it for the king. ‘I’m afraid there are only two arrows. We were going to have more fletched for the hunt when we got here.’
‘One is all I’ll need.’
Wentzl frowned, unsure of what his king was referring to but he waited, appreciating that Tamas was on a mission and clearly had a plan.
‘Wentzl, you and the men are to set sail for Cipres as fast as your horses can get you to the ship. Is that clear?’ Wentzl nodded, wanting to speak but clearly too confused to form the questions exploding in his mind. ‘Here, take these clothes,’ he said, gathering up his discarded finery and reaching for his sword. ‘Run with me, I’ll explain as we go. Do you know how to get out of this part of Stoneheart through a back or side entrance?’
Wentzl, still too confounded to speak, nodded. Then he cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me. Yes, of course, your majesty. Follow me.’
‘Bring everyone. Leave no-one here,’ Tamas said, pointing to the door where he’d passed guards as he’d entered.
‘But your belongings …’ Wentzl queried, looking around the suite.
Tamas knew the man was in shock, but couldn’t help smiling. ‘Forget about them, Captain Wentzl. I’m sure my life is worth more than some formal wear. This is all I need,’ he said, grabbing his distinctive fur-lined coat. Tamas finished buckling on his sword and reached for his riding gloves and bow. ‘Let’s go,’ he said, physically pulling the stunned captain with him. ‘Lead the way and pay attention because I’ll only have time to explain my plan once.’
Hamelyn had never run faster. Menster was surely a ruse to get him out of Darcelle’s clutches. He ignored it and made for the stables. His mind was scattering in various directions. Was he being pursued, or more likely was King Tamas being pursued? In his mind’s eye he saw Darcelle suddenly develop fangs and fly, swooping after the king to kiss him or kill him, but either way to claim him. He was worried for Cassien too — could he keep the queen safe and smuggle her out of Stoneheart? He had no idea how that was going to be achieved but he felt that if anyone could, it was Cassien. And Gabe. Coming back to life as he had! It was terrifying, but thrilling, because it meant Gabriel was alive and the Triad, whatever it was, was complete.
‘Where will we all meet?’ he murmured to himself as he slid into the stable and the new problem of how he was to access horses arose.
‘Hey, you boy, what’s your name?’ a deep voice yelled.
‘Er, Ham.’
‘You don’t belong in here,’ the voice arrived. It belonged to a youngish man, who towered over him. Nevertheless, he wasn’t that much older, Ham reckoned; definitely less than a decade between them.
‘Not usually, no,’ he said, rallying his confidence. ‘I’m with Master Cassien, who is the queen’s newly appointed champion.’
‘Ah, I’d heard rumours this morning. A little bird said he was sleeping with the queen.’
Ham eyed the man and decided he was slightly simple-minded rather than disrespectful. ‘Not sleeping with her, just sleeping outside her chambers for the time being. You know odd things have been happening around the palace, right?’
The man nodded. ‘Aye. Animals have died. Broke the stable master’s heart this morning when he found them. Cook wanted to butcher them for the meat, but Master Cole won’t hear of it. They were fine horses, those. He’s having them put on a pyre. It’s where he is now.’
‘I see.’ Ham seized his chance. ‘I’ve come to get our pair of horses,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know where they are?’ he asked, looking down the length of the impressively large stables.
‘Of course I do,’ his companion said. ‘Master Cole insists on a detailed inventory of every animal we keep and it’s listed against its owner.’
‘Perfect. Can you get me our horses and saddles, then?’
‘I could if I could read the list,’ he said and grinned innocently at Ham.
Ham smiled back. ‘Or better still, I can point them out.’
‘No, that means I’d have to take your word for it,’ the man said, taking off his cap to scratch his head slowly. ‘You need your mounts urgently?’
‘I’m afraid I do. Master Cassien won’t be pleased if I keep him waiting.’
‘I know every horse here. I know the visiting animals, but we have a lot of them at present because of the king’s arrival.’
Time was moving on and Ham could feel his fears gathering and sounding a distant alarm in his head. He had to be ready; that’s what Tamas had conveyed. Tamas was clever with his ruse, but it would all come to naught if he didn’t have horses at the ready.
Ham closed his eyes and pictured himself riding with Cassien on their way to Rittylworth. He knew he could do this, knew his mind absorbed every detail of the landscape around him at any given moment. At the next bell, if he were asked to describe this stable in detail he knew he could, even though he’d barely given it more than a cursory glance. It was simply how his mind worked.
‘What is your name?’
‘It’s Clef.’
‘Clef, perhaps they’ll be stabled nearby to each other?’ Ham suggested, hoping he could lead the stableman where he needed.
Clef nodded obligingly. ‘They may even share a stall, as we’re crowded right now.’
‘Good. Then shall I describe Master Cassien’s horse?’
His companion laughed but not unkindly. He scratched his head again. ‘You could try. Horses are horses,’ he said, not sounding helpful.
‘I can be accurate in my description and then, if you recognise the one I tell you about, mine will logically be the one with it or next to its left or right and I’m sure you’ll know which.’
Clef frowned, clearly not grasping such obvious reasoning. Ham didn’t pause to explain but drew on his skill. ‘It’s a mare. She stands this high,’ he said, gesturing with a hand. ‘She’s a grey, but her tail is a lovely soft golden colour,’ he began, glad the horse’s light colouring would set her apart quickly from the predominantly chestnut horses.
From the window of her chambers, the gaze of Princess Darcelle absently wandered over the bailey while Cyricus and Aphra plotted.
‘We should stay together,’ Aphra argued.
‘No. I need the body of a male. I regret losing Gabriel. I was too hasty.’
‘But in Darcelle you have the power you need,’ she pressed.
‘Not entirely, Aphra. As the princess we have some power to command, but at the queen’s word, everyone bows, including Darcelle.’
‘Stick to your plan, my beloved,’ she cooed. ‘I’ll be your Darcelle and you be my Tamas. Then we have power.’
He yawned as Darcelle. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, although you seem very trusting of the king.’
‘He has no reason to mistrust his bride-to-be. I thought he was very tender toward her just now,’ she soothed.
‘Did you?’ She didn’t reply. ‘I was sure I detected a false note in his words.’
‘No,’ she said, firmly.
‘You didn’t get the impression that he was eager to be away from Darcelle?’
‘I didn’t,’ she admitted. ‘Besides, what possible reason could he have for being suspicious of her? He was distracted if anything, by his concern when they found Gabe’s body … or what they thought was Tentrell’s body.’
‘Yes, I do have to agree with you. Tamas was shocked and profoundly concerned for Darcelle in that courtyard. I also agree that unless Gabe sat up and spoke,’ he jested, sounding amused now, ‘I see no possibility that Tamas could know about any other threat.’
‘That’s right. And Gabe was very dead, my love. We got rid of him long ago,’ she assured him.
He hesitated, allowing Darcelle’s eyes to scan the bailey, where there seemed to be an inordinate amount of activity. He knew Darcelle’s pretty face was frowning while he absently pondered Tamas and what he was looking at.
‘And yet, still I had this sense that the king was being careful.’
‘In what way?’
‘Do you not think that a man would at least wish to kiss the woman he intended to marry when he had her alone in a room?’
‘I suspect he is being highly respectful of the Morgravian Crown’s as its guest.’
‘He’s a man, Aphra! Men have needs.’
She giggled. ‘So do you, my love. I can’t wait to service them when you are flesh again.’ She sighed. ‘He wouldn’t have been intimate in front of the boy.’
‘The boy … yes, indeed, the quiet child with the steady focus and all-seeing gaze,’ Cyricus mused.
‘He was a servant, nothing more,’ she said dismissively.
‘But I sensed a lot more. I sensed scrutiny from the shadows. I sensed knowing. I sensed …’
‘What?’
Cyricus gave a soft groan. ‘Ah, it was the child … the child! I had all my concentration on Tamas.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about that stealthy, quietly spoken, bowing boy, who said the right things in the right places but he was gathering information. He knows!’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. It’s his knowledge that my instincts were sensing. Nothing to do with Tamas!’
‘I don’t understand,’ Aphra bleated.
‘No, I know you don’t, which is why you are my slave and I your lord. And why, if I decide to move out of Darcelle’s body, I will not need your permission. The boy knows, believe me in this. Oh, I can’t imagine why I was so slow to realise it. I’ve been duped into feeling safe. Who is he? How can he know anything about me?’
‘Cyricus, I think Tamas is —’
‘Don’t, Aphra! Don’t placate me. I follow my own intuition and it is growling that the child who came with Tamas was far more than a simple messenger boy.’
‘But, the king —’
‘I said, don’t,’ he murmured so quietly it was definitely a threat. ‘Don’t even speak just now.’
He made a low, growling noise of frustration — which issued as a mewl from Darcelle — as he gave his attention in a more focused way to the bailey. To his astonishment he saw Tamas, sitting in the saddle of the beautiful pearl-coloured horse that Florentyna had donated from her personal stable for the king’s use. Although Cyricus could ride, he barely knew a smattering about horse husbandry, but even he could appreciate the glowing beauty of the pale horse, whose coat shimmered with two colours beneath the sunlight. And though he knew so little, there was no doubting that horse, and certainly no doubting that glorious fur-lined cloak of King Tamas, brightly flashing azure blue in its silken lining against the gold of the horse’s flank.
For a couple of Darcelle’s heartbeats he was struck silent and still as a statue. And then he moved, his voice emerging as Darcelle’s shriek. ‘No!’ he cried, forming the lips of the princess into a helpless snarl. ‘No!’
‘Cyricus, it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The king is leaving!’ Aphra said, stating the obvious and enraging her demon companion.
‘Ride!’ Wentzl roared to his men. ‘As fast as the wind. Protect our king!’ he yelled, standing up in the saddle as his horse, leading the charge from Stoneheart, reacted to the knee dug into its side.
The men of Cipres rode, kicking up dust, scaring the women servants who happened to be crossing the bailey, scattering chickens and dogs in their wake. They didn’t leave by the road either. Wentzl led them cross-country, determined to cut many hours from the journey by going over the rougher terrain. He would not spare the horses that way, but clearly that was not his intention, Stoneheart’s gatekeepers mused between themselves as they watched the fast-flowing column of men disappearing, the king in their midst.
Those same gatekeepers heard shattering glass, and when they looked up they saw Princess Darcelle with fists bloodstained from battering at the windows and, like her, they had wondered why King Tamas was riding away from Stoneheart in such frenzy.
Darcelle spun on her heel, flushed, furious and heedless of the blood spattering her fresh gown. Servants rushed in, having heard her cries. They gasped and wanted to fetch water and bandages, but she swatted them away like gnats. Darcelle ran, heedless of who she bumped into or offended in her hasty passage to the stables.
She arrived, breathless, her unpainted lips pale and thin. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded of the man who approached, doing his best to effect a bow but managing to achieve only an awkward stoop. He looked awestruck by her presence. ‘I said …’ she screamed at him.
‘Cl— Clef, your highness. I am the stableman.’
‘Where’s the stable master?’
‘Burning two horses,’ he replied baldly. ‘Er … your highness.’ He pulled his cap off, realising too late he’d forgotten his manners. He lowered his eyes, but Darcelle barely registered him.
‘The king just rode out,’ she said, her breath ragged and angry. ‘Did he say to where?’
‘They said to the harbour, your highness. That’s what I was told,’ Clef replied.
‘Harbour?’
‘Where the ships are,’ he said uselessly.
Darcelle let out a groan of despair. ‘Get away from me, you simpleton. Fetch me a horse!’
‘A horse?’
‘Are you deaf as well as dumb?’
‘No, your highness.’
‘Then saddle my horse this moment or I will have your ears cut off and your tongue cut out so you might never offend me again.’
Clef looked ready to weep. He began to stammer but somehow rallied his nerve. ‘Please, your highness. If you’d wait out there,’ he gestured to the hitching rail, where a step was positioned for riders to mount their horses easily. ‘I’ll bring your Gold immediately.’
Darcelle stomped from the stable entrance, her resident’s rage making him careless. Consequently, Cyricus didn’t notice the hooded rider ease a grey from the side and emerge into the sunlight leading a second horse — a chestnut — toward the gate. At the gate, he raised a hand to the gatekeepers, who barely paid him more than a glance, their attention still riveted on the cloud of dust the Ciprean party was kicking up as they disappeared over another hill, heading to the west of the realm.
The hooded rider walked both horses onto the main road, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the endless human traffic, carts, animals that flowed into and out of Stoneheart’s great bailey. Once he’d cleared the bottleneck and had taken the bend that would lead him north, he leaned down to mutter to the lad who sat in front of him hiding beneath the old, dun hooded cloak that the rider had pulled around him.
‘Ready, Ham?’
‘I am, your majesty,’ he said, clambering down to take the reins of the second beast. ‘Nicely done.’
‘It may buy us some time,’ Tamas said. ‘On your horse, then. We must ride until our backsides are numb,’ he said and winked at his young companion.