| |
A week after the Battle of Gleade Hill, people believed the threat of war had passed. Everyone assumed that when the Gemot was called back into session, it would quickly vote for Broderick as king. And even if it didn’t seem like he was in any great hurry to recall the Gemot, no one was particularly worried.
William had even given up watching Princess Elwyn’s rooms for the time being. Sir Robert Tynsdale certainly wasn’t coming back, and the only thing William had uncovered in the last week was a budding friendship between the princess and Miss Serrana. He still wondered if the Immani woman was more than a courtesan, but if she were, he could find no proof of it. So he left them alone to talk about clothes and go riding in the countryside, or whatever else girls that age did.
On Thursday morning, for something to do, he walked around the market, watching the merchants hawking their goods and checking in with the soldiers Colonel Rath had stationed there to keep the peace. And while he was there he heard a potentially alarming report.
“We met a woman who said she saw troops in the field,” one of the guards said.
“Probably the Earl of Hyrne’s men, still running.”
“No, sir. Newshire regiments marching in good order. Several of them by the sound of it.”
He got directions from the men and went to the south side of the square, where a dainty little lady goldsmith from Rawdon had set up her stall. He admired a lovely triple chain while the woman spoke to customers, and he imagined what it would look like on Gwen. Except that Gwen didn’t wear jewelry anymore, at least not since Robby had gotten into a “grabby” phase.
When the woman was free, he asked her about what the guards had said, and she confirmed she had seen several regiments of troops on the move.
“They had the banners of the Duke of Newshire, the Earl of Stansted, and the Earl of Brawley.”
“You’re sure of that?” he asked.
The woman gave him a withering look. “Sir, I am a Newshire girl, born and bred, and I’m a goldsmith by trade. Do you think I don’t know all the banners of our local lords?”
“Fair point. Were they headed this way?”
“No sir. They were on the road to Stansted.”
William bought a small filigree brooch to thank her for her time, and then he hurried to the guardhouse to retrieve his horse. All those nobles belonged to the queen’s party, and to the best of his knowledge, none of them had been seen in the city since the battle. If the troops were going to Stansted, rather than headed for Formacaster, then they were probably marshaling there. Possibly with other troops from Newshire and the west.
Of course, the men could be heading out for their bi-annual training camp. The Newshire troops were the best-disciplined soldiers in the army, and they hadn’t gotten that way by accident. They trained quite a lot more than troops from other shires.
On the other hand, this could be a renewed attempt to build a Sigor army, in which case Baron Broderick needed to know about it immediately.
Up at the castle, his lordship was not in his office at the barracks. Nor was he in his own apartment, which left one other obvious place he might be. William went up to the fifth floor and knocked on the door of Anne’s apartment. A minute passed before the girl appeared, clutching a very small robe closed in front and scowling bleary-eyed into the brighter light of the outer parlor.
“What do you want?” she grumbled. There was a strong scent of wine on her breath.
“Is his lordship in there?” William asked.
“His majesty is sleeping,” the girl said, putting emphasis on each syllable of the title. Broderick wasn’t using the title himself, yet. But some of his more fervent followers were giving it to him, anyway.
“I have news for him.”
Anne pursed her lips. “Really? Is there an enemy army at the gates right now?”
“Well, not at the gates, exactly, but—”
“Then there is time for him to sleep,” she snapped. “Come back later.” Then she shut the door in William’s face.
He went back downstairs and tried Baroness Muriel’s apartment. When the lady’s maid showed him into the parlor, he was met with a very strange sight. Her ladyship sat on the window seat, reading something aloud in Immani. Her legs, bare to the knee except for a silver ankle bracelet, were resting on the lap of Pedr Byrne, who was gently massaging them, while her son sat across the room on a rock-hard couch, sipping coffee and looking anywhere but toward the window.
“Ah, William, how good to see you,” said the baroness. “I discovered yesterday that neither of these young men had ever read De Bello Civli by the Emperor Horatius. I fear it may soon become rather topical. You’re familiar with it, I’m sure, of course.”
William bowed. “I have not had the honor of reading it, either, my lady.” And then, before she could tell him to sit down and learn his lessons, too, he added, “May I speak with your son?”
Back out in the hall, Young Broderick gave a look of sincerest gratitude, like William had pulled him from a burning building. “I’m terrified she’ll find out all the other ‘important’ books that Pedr and I have never read. Now what’s going on?”
In a few brief sentences, William told him what he’d learned from the marketplace guards and the goldsmith. The young man saw instantly what it meant, and he reached the same conclusions William had.
“This could be training, but they could be getting ready to fight again. Go back down to the market and see if you can find out anything else. I’ll stay up here and make sure my father and Uncle Lukas get the news.”
That was a sound idea, so William left the palace and rode back down into town. He barely made one circuit of the outer stalls, however, before a small boy came up to him with a bit of folded scrap parchment.
“Excuse me, sir, but are you William Aitken?” the boy asked.
“Yes, I am,” William admitted.
The boy held out the note. “A man gave me a penny to give you this.” When William took it, the little fellow went sprinting off between stacks of pots and pans.
The message consisted of a single sentence:
You should keep a closer eye on your family.
He didn’t even bother going back for his horse. Shieldworten Street wasn’t that far away, and he could run there faster. He had visions in his mind of death and fire, of a charred bed in a smoking ruin. When he got to his block, though, nothing seemed amiss. Then he heard someone crying, and he bolted through the forge and up the stairs.
Gwen was sitting with Hazel and Philip Rowley, weeping frantically.
“What’s wrong?” William demanded. “What’s happened?” He looked around and his heart dropped in his chest when he didn’t immediately see Robby.
“Your boy is downstairs with our Winnie,” said Hazel Rowley. Winnie was the eldest of their three girls. “Gwen has had a bit of a fright. I think it’s a prank, don’t you, Philip?”
Without a word, Philip handed over a small bit of parchment, folded once, and William didn’t even have to hold it up to the other one to know they had been cut from the same sheet. When he opened it, the handwriting was identical, and the note said:
When we’re done with you and your boy, all that will be left for your husband will be your heads, stuck on a fence in the churchyard of the Leoffamskerke.
“See, it has to be a prank,” said Hazel. “That bit about the Leoffamskerke seems so strangely random. That’s almost a mile from here.”
William thought of how he and the soldiers had beaten up Sir Robert Tynsdale and his squire in that churchyard, and he said softly, “It’s not random at all.”
“Do you know who did this?” said Gwen, looking up, her lip quivering.
“Yes. I think I do. It’s someone I...angered through my work for Lord Broderick.” His first impulse was to go pack their trunks and buy a cabin on the first boat heading south. They could be back in Haydonshire in less than two weeks, back at Gwen’s father’s farm. Taking Philip’s place at Gwen’s side, he held her hand and said, “Would you like to go home?”
He would have done it if she had said, “Yes,” but instead she kissed him and said, “No, dear. You have your work, and the new king needs you.”
“I’ll have one of the apprentices try to keep an eye on the door anytime you’re not home,” said Philip.
“Thank you,” said William. He felt a curious mix of relief and shame. He hadn’t really wanted to leave, and at the same time, he felt a little guilty about not arguing harder for it. He could do more to make her safe, though. “I’m going to get a sword and a crossbow, and Philip and I will teach you how to use them,” he said.
Gwen wiped her eyes and gave a watery laugh. “William, that’s a terrible idea. I’ll kill someone. Or even worse, Robby will find those things and hurt himself.” She patted his hand. “Don’t worry. Philip and the apprentices will look after me. You worry about yourself.”