John Gwynne - Malice

Voices and footsteps rang behind them. King Aquilus strode past the court, Deinon and two eagle-guards behind him.

Nathair watched them for a moment, then followed, signalling for Veradis to accompany him. They caught up at the stables, where Deinon was mounting a horse, as were the two eagle-guards. With a brief farewell the Vin Thalun rode away, the scroll-case strapped safely inside a saddlebag. The eagle-guards fell in behind the corsair and rode with him from the fortress.

‘Walk with me,’ Aquilus said to his son. He strode away, Nathair and Veradis following.

They walked in silence a while, Aquilus leading them until they stood upon the battlements, looking out across the lake and plains beyond. Deinon and his escort were pinpricks in the distance, now. ‘Why the warrior escort, Father?’ Nathair asked. ‘It is a simple enough journey to the coast.’

‘They are to make sure he reaches the coast, Nathair, that he does not linger, or take any detours. I do not trust him. I do not trust them .

‘For generations the Vin Thalun have raided our coasts, along with the coasts of our neighbours. And now, suddenly, they want to make peace, form an alliance , and with us only. Why not Tarbesh, or Carnutan? Why Tenebral? Meical thinks the timing of this is more than coincidence. I agree with him.’

Nathair’s face clouded. ‘Counsellor Meical.’ He snorted. ‘I don’t trust the Vin Thalun either, Father. But they are useful, that is beyond doubt. We must be wary, that is all.’

‘Aye, son. You must bait a trap well to catch your prey. I would know what the Vin Thalun seek to achieve. This seems the best way to do that.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You have done well, but these are dangerous times. War is coming, and we must be vigilant. .’

War , Veradis thought. He was still tracking the departing Vin Thalun when he saw a large group of horsemen on the road, riding towards the fortress. ‘Who are they?’ he said.

The three of them stared in silence until the approaching horsemen were almost at the gates. They were a party of forty or fifty warriors, carrying a banner that Veradis had never seen before, a sickle moon in a star-filled sky.

‘So it begins,’ Aquilus said quietly. ‘They carry the banner of Tarbesh. I believe it is Rahim, Tarbesh’s King. The first to answer my call to council.’

CORBAN

‘Where do you think he’s from, Mam?’ Cywen asked. Corban was picking at a bowl of porridge, stirring a spoonful of honey into swirling shapes. Gwenith frowned at Thannon absently as she sat in front of the hearth, toasting bread on a long fork.

Gwenith sighed. ‘I don’t know, though doubtless you don’t believe me, because if you’ve asked me once you’ve asked me five score times.’

‘Someone must know,’ said Cywen despairingly. ‘Da?’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Thannon over a mouthful of honey-cake.

‘A white eagle on the shield. That’s what you said, Ban, wasn’t it.’

‘Aye.’

‘Who’s sign is that?’

‘We’ll eat in the feast-hall tonight. Maybe Brenin will announce who his visitor is over the evening meal,’ said Gwenith, sliding another thick piece of toasted bread onto a plate in front of everybody. Belying his size, Thannon snatched it first, and smiled to himself as he spread a thick scoop of butter on it. Cywen was silent, her nose crinkling in that familiar way when she was thinking.

‘You’re probably right, but that’s ages away.’

‘Patience, lass,’ said Thannon, leaning contentedly back in his chair, rubbing his belly. Corban frowned. That was one phrase that he really found objectionable, as it usually meant shut up , or let’s change the subject . By the look on Cywen’s face she was thinking something similar.

‘C’mon, lad, let’s get the fire lit. More scythes to make today.’

Corban grimaced. His shoulder was aching from yesterday’s hard work, and a particularly painful blister was throbbing in the crease where his thumb met his hand.

‘Oh, I forgot,’ Cywen said, ‘Gar told me he needs to speak to you today, Ban. I’m going straight to his stables — walk with me, eh, go to the forge after? If that is all right with you, Da.’

‘Aye, that’d be fine. I’ll see you after, Ban,’ said Thannon, standing and brushing crumbs from his tunic. He strode from the kitchen, his hound Buddai following. Corban and Cywen left soon after, leaving their mother still sitting by the fire, staring into the crackling flames in the hearth.

‘What does Gar want?’ Corban asked Cywen. He was back on speaking terms with her now. The horror of Dylan’s death had at least caused him to reassess the gravity of Cywen’s impulsive crime.

‘I don’t know. I did ask, but he wouldn’t tell me. He can be very close-mouthed sometimes.’

‘Huh,’ Corban grunted in agreement.

The stables were a massive building of wood and thatch. The giant Benothi had of course not ridden horses, and so had not built stables, thus Ard had had to build his own amongst the stone buildings of the old fortress.

They found stablemaster Gar in the paddocks near the stables with the roan colt that Cywen had bought at the Spring Fair. He had the colt’s foreleg balanced across his knee and was applying some kind of salve, digging it out of a pot with his fingertips, plastering it liberally on the cut where Cywen had removed the thorn. Corban and Cywen stood quietly by while he finished bandaging the hoof, Corban wrinkling his nose at the smell of the salve.

‘He’s doing well,’ Gar said, patting the roan’s neck.

‘Cywen said you wanted to see me.’ Corban said.

‘That’s right.’ Gar looked pointedly at Cywen. She frowned and didn’t look up, picking instead at a burr in the colt’s mane. The silence stretched for long, uncomfortable moments, then a voice called Cywen’s name.

Edana was walking quickly towards them, a smile on her face, a warrior striding close behind her.

‘Hello, Cywen, Gar, Corban.’ The Princess smiled in turn at them. ‘I was hoping to find you here,’ she said to Cywen. ‘If you have the time, I was wondering if you might like to join me on a ride.’

Cywen grinned. ‘I’d like to very much, but Gar has not told me what my morning chores are yet.’ She looked at her feet.

The stablemaster gave a rare smile of his own. ‘Ride with the Princess,’ he said. ‘Please.’

Cywen wrapped her arms around Gar, planting a kiss on his cheek, then she and Edana set off towards the stables, the warrior with Edana taking long strides to keep up with them.

‘How are you, Ban?’ said Gar.

‘Well enough,’ Corban said with a shrug, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, looking at the turf.

There was a long silence. Corban eventually raised his eyes, meeting Gar’s gaze. ‘How am I supposed to be? My friend is dead. Dylan was murdered.’ He sighed. ‘I am many things, Gar: angry, sad. Sometimes I even forget about what has happened and feel happy, for a time. That is the worst.’

‘Have you seen that young bully Rafe since the Spring Fair?’

‘Only from a distance. It doesn’t seem as important now.’

Gar grunted. ‘That is good. But it will not go away. My offer still stands — do you remember?’

‘Yes.’

Cywen, Edana and the warrior rode out of the stable doors.

‘Do you still wish to meet?’ the stablemaster asked, quietly.

In truth Corban had all but forgotten Gar’s offer of teaching him, but memories of Rafe came vividly back.

‘Aye, I do.’

‘Then meet me here, tomorrow morning. If you are not here when the sun touches the peaks of the cliffs I will know you’ve changed your mind. We’ll not speak of it again.’