Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

“Le Brun?” the newcomer called out. “It’s me.”

Le Brun let his cloak fall forward again, while the newcomer entered the room.

“Montgomerie,” said le Brun, “Are the others on their way?” His question was answered by another arrival. “Here’s Giffard,” said Le Brun. “We’re just waiting for Mowbray, FitzRou and De Ferrers.”

The other men arrived as one.

“It’s a foul night,” said FitzRou.

“You’re sure you weren’t followed?” asked Le Brun.

“You’d be hard pressed to follow a doxy in a dress in that weather,” said the man.

“Watch your language, De Ferrers,” said Le Brun, darkly. “We’ll swear before anything else. Are you set?”

They nodded, moving to stand in a circle around the table. De Ferrers and FitzRou removed their gloves. As one they each picked up a horseshoe from the table, holding it in their bare fists before them where the others could see it. One by one they swore.

“I am Walter Le Brun, Knight and Templar. I serve God and the King.”

Each stood with the heavy iron in their hands and swore likewise to his name, his God and his King. Only when they were all sworn did they replace the horseshoes on the table.

“Well and good,” said Le Brun. “What news?”

“The ceremony is set,” said Montgomerie, “The venue has been moved again. They’re nervous — after last year…” He let that sentence trail away.

“What about the knives?” said Le Brun.

“De Ferrers and I will ride them in at the last minute,” said FitzRou. “They are well hidden until then.”

“What have we here?”

The voice came from one of the passages. As one, the men turned, drawing back their cloaks and reaching for their swords, but within seconds the passages were thundering with boots, and men with short spears held the knights at bay, gleaming points held ready to run them through. Every exit filled with men. I was forced into the room or else be trodden under by them. I stood unnoticed at the side, while the knights stood with their backs to the table.

A tall man in an expensive embroidered cloak entered behind his men. He stood opposite me, surveying the scene. “What treachery is this?” he asked.

“There is no treachery here, Aimery” said Le Brun. “We serve the King’s peace.”

“And what manner of the King’s peace requires you to meet in secret and count horseshoes? Six shoes and six men; it is a pretty number.”

“Stand by!” came a new voice. “Stand in the name of the King. Make way for King John.” A new man entered the room, pushing aside the soldiers and forcing them into the room. His face was narrow with a deep scar that ran down his cheek into his beard on the left side. He moved with natural authority. He was followed by two other uniformed knights that pushed the soldiers out of the way with little regard, sowing confusion among the men who looked to Aimery for support. The two uniformed knights cleared a space, forcing the men back down the passages. A large, thickset man with a short beard who wore a cloak, black as sable, followed behind them. On his breast were embroidered three gold lions, one above the other. The knights knelt as one, causing a ripple of unrest in the remaining pikemen.

“Order your men to stand down,” said the King in a deep voice.

“But, my Liege,” said Aimery, “they are…”

“At once,” said the King, quietly.

Aimery looked crestfallen. “Stand down,” he ordered. The tips of the spears fell. “My Liege, if I have done wrong I beg your pardon. It was done with the best of…”

“Enough,” said the King. “Clear the room. Get these men out of here and let in some air, for the love of God.”

The two uniformed knights pushed the men back and they reversed with some difficulty back down the passage. It was some time before the noise died away. The King remained silent throughout. No one else dared speak.

When the men had finally gone, the King turned to Aimery. “How did you come here, this night?”

“My Liege, I heard through my own means that these men conspired. I sought only to protect…”

“No, you fool!” said the King. “Did you come by river or road?”

Aimery was taken aback. “I came by river, My Liege.”

“Good,” said the King, “then you’ve done something right. Wait outside with my men. I will speak with you later.” The uniformed knights escorted Aimery down the passage after his men. The King waited until Aimery was well out of earshot before speaking again. He turned to the scarred man that had come into the room before him.

“When does the tide turn?” asked the King.

“Within the hour, Majesty.”

“The river is in flood,” said the King. “A man could go overboard on a night like this and no one would ever see him again.”

“I will see to it, Majesty,” said the man. He bowed and turned to leave.

“And make sure his men understand their fate if word of this should spread,” said the King.

The man nodded and followed the path Aimery had taken down the passage, leaving the King with the knights. “Rise,” he said.

The men got to their feet stiffly having knelt on the cold stone. It was Le Brun who spoke. “We are in your debt, Majesty,” he said.

“You’ve been careless,” said the King. “If Aimery knows of this, then it is possible that others do too.”

“We will be more careful,” said Le Brun.

The King walked slowly around the room, circling the men. None of them moved. He appeared lost in thought. The only sound in the room was the occasional spit and hiss of the flares and the tap of the King’s boots on the stone.

“It’s not enough,” said the King,”

“I beg your pardon, Majesty?” said Le Brun. “We will do everything in our power…”

“It will never be enough. How much do you love your King?”

“Above my life, Majesty,” said Le Brun.

“Above your life…” said the King, continuing to walk around them. “And you?” The King fixed each man with a stare as he circled them. Each man said he would give his life.

“It is the burden of Kings that we must often ask more than those who serve us are prepared to give,” said the King. “It was ever thus.”

“Niall Petersen?” Blackbird’s voice cut across the King, making Niall start where he stood. I looked around nervously wondering whether they too could hear it. But the King continued circling the men.

“It’s time to come home,” her voice insisted.

“I have something I want you to do for me,” said the King to the knights. “It’s more than I’ve asked of you before.” The light was dimming, as if the flares were expiring.

“Come home.” said Blackbird.

“Anything, Majesty,” said Le Brun.

“Come home,” repeated Blackbird.

The light faded until only the scent of burning flares was left.

Niall opened his eyes.

“Dad!” said Alex, and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely.

“What on earth is the matter with you?” said Niall, hugging her back.

There was a sharp rapping on the door. Fionh’s voice came through into the room. “Open up!” she called. “What are you doing in there?”

Blackbird stood and went to the door, opening it wide so that Fionh could see inside the room. “It’s late, Fionh. To what do we owe this honour?”