Michael Sullivan - The Rose and the Thorn

Barnes landed on the dormer and slid down the steep slope. He cried out when he ran out of roof and dropped on the spire of the Winsome Tower. The roof there was not as steep, but it was angled enough to make him slide. Barnes clawed at the clay tiles trying to stop himself. He failed to grasp anything and Richard and Exeter watched as Barnes slipped off like a raindrop and fell to the courtyard. At that height the sound was slight, only a faint thump, hardly the noise anyone would associate with the death of a man.

“Well, there you have it,” Exeter said. “Conclusive proof that someone would indeed climb out this window.” Exeter focused on Richard’s sword. “You can put that away now.”

Richard wasn’t certain that was such good advice, but under His Lordship’s watchful glare, he sheathed the metal just the same.

“So now that we know the how, all that remains is the why. The only reason anyone would go out that window is if they felt they had absolutely no other choice.” He paused, staring at Richard. “But then I shouldn’t have to tell you that, should I?”

Richard felt his face flush with anger, the only outward expression he allowed.

“Still, in the case of this girl-this new Rose-amusing that they have the same name, isn’t it?”

Richard didn’t find it amusing at all.

“I think we can conclude that she, like Sergeant Barnes, was in fear of her life. But from whom and why?”

Exeter looked out the window again. Below, a handful of figures gathered around the dead body of Barnes. “He almost made it, didn’t he? If he could have caught the ledge, then he could easily have dropped to the terrace. She’s still alive, I think.” His Lordship looked toward the gate. “Probably got out of the castle before anyone knew she was missing. Probably already back at the Medford House.”

“We can ask Kells about a girl. He was on the gate,” Richard said. “But I did check in with him before coming here, and he reported no one has left the keep since sundown.”

Exeter smirked. “No one saw her leave this room either.” The high constable headed for the stairs.

“What should I say in my report about what happened to Barnes?” Richard stopped him.

Exeter spun, his cape whirling. “Exactly what happened. Barnes was demonstrating how the girl escaped and in the process, he slipped, fell, and died.” Exeter tilted his head down again, peering up. “Did you know that I opposed your appointment to the royal guard? Your sword skills are good, but you lack loyalty. If Wylin or Lawrence had been here with Barnes, they would have protested. They would have told him to draw and risked their careers by standing against me to save one of their own. Two against one-I would’ve had to back down. Each of you would have received a harsh reprimand because the king can’t have open displays of insubordination, but he would have secretly agreed with you. Everything would have resolved itself in the end. Instead, Barnes is lying in the courtyard like a shattered bag of glass. So I have to wonder, with such a keen sense of loyalty, when the time comes to defend your king-will you?”

Richard’s jaw stiffened. “I already have.”

“Oh yes, the attack in Pilin.”

“I saved His Majesty when everyone else ran. I stayed and nearly died.”

“But that was long ago, and I have to wonder … would you do so now? Perhaps if the king had shown more gratitude. Active soldiers can’t have wives, can they? I suspect you asked for an exception because Rose Reuben carried your son in her belly. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

It was a question Exeter already knew the answer to, and Richard didn’t bother answering.

“It seems like such a small price to pay, especially after exhibiting such bravery, but your request was denied. The king needs his soldiers in their barracks and ready at all times, and if he makes an exception for one … I’m certain he made all this clear when he turned you down.”

Richard stood straight, doing his best not to show emotion, something he’d developed a skill for over the last sixteen years.

“And when he refused, your loyalty to Rose was tested. You could have resigned your commission and taken her, and your soon-to-be son, somewhere to start a new life. But you cared more about your promotion to sergeant at arms than for Rose and your bastard child. You turned her away.” Exeter adjusted his cape, which had slipped off one shoulder after his abrupt turn. “Of course, what did that leave her? Now that her condition was known, she was released from her position, and with no man to provide for her, what was she to do? I suppose she could have found an old midwife with a twisted twig to relieve her from the burden you planted. But she didn’t do that. Now that’s loyalty. I would’ve advocated Rose Reuben for a position in the royal guard without hesitation. What did you tell her when she returned with the child and pleaded once more for your help? Did you even offer her coin? I suspect you turned her away with nothing. I might have granted you some concession for at least sending the child to your sister after Rose’s death, but then that was more out of guilt and embarrassment, wasn’t it? Pity you didn’t offer that option sooner.

“I judge a man by the decisions he makes, and you proved once again that you value your job over all else. Siding against me would have jeopardized your position-and Barnes paid the price, just like Rose did. So why don’t you attend to your job, and I’ll do the same. Go protect the king and I’ll find the missing Rose from Medford House.”

Exeter left the room, his footfalls fading.

Left alone, Richard stepped to the window and laid a hand on the sill. This room was indeed haunted. He let his fingers slide across the stone and felt the tears come again. Grabbing a cup, Richard walked to the ale barrel and drank.

Buckets were kicked from under the feet of the three men tied by their necks to the scaffolding. The whole structure lurched with the jerk and the crossbeam bowed with their weight.

Royce had seen many hangings and was always surprised by the silence. The cheering and insults stopped. No one spoke-certainly not the dangling men. The only sound they made was the soft flutter of their feet, which could be heard in the sudden quiet. Royce guessed it wasn’t reverence for the passing of life, and certainly not out of respect for the men. The crowd had been throwing rotted vegetables at them moments before. He could not prove it, but he suspected the silence came from the jolting thought that it would happen to them one day. Viewing death, this passage from breathing, thinking people into corpses, struck them dumb. They saw themselves hanging in their place and for the duration of those kicking feet, shuddered.

“Scary little town,” Hadrian whispered across saddles as the three rode on through the rest of the Gentry Quarter.

It had been a year since their first visit to the city of Medford. Arriving as fugitives in the back of a cart, they had wallowed in their own blood. Returning put Royce on edge, like visiting his own grave that bore the epitaph ROYCE MELBORN … ANY MINUTE NOW. But he had to come back. He’d left something important behind.

They avoided the crowd in the square with its fountain, which had a stone statue of a king rearing on his horse. Veering to the left of the castle, they aimed for the Tradesmen’s Arch and the artisan section beyond. A family of ducks splashed among cattails in the moat that ringed the gray walls of Essendon Castle. The water was a murky green with lily pads dotting the surface. Royce took note of the pair of guards who stood at the gate dressed in tabards of burgundy with the stylized image of a gold falcon on them. Two more stood on the far side of the bridge. A dozen more walked the battlements, their metal helms glinting in the morning sun. Just riding by, Royce noticed two blind spots on the walls where they could be scaled out of sight of the guards. Maybe there were more guards at night.