Robert Carter - Whitemantle

‘Good for them,’ Will said.

But Willow was not so sure. ‘It doesn’t seem all that brave of the townsfolk in hindsight. They must have been thinking about their own skins, and what Lord Sarum and Lord Warrewyk would do to the City if its people sided with the queen.’

Gwydion examined the gate expectantly. ‘It looks like the City’s gamble has been good. Queen Mag and her friends were up to their necks in debt with every merchant in Trinovant. That is a matter that would take some settling before she could be welcomed back.’

Willow’s head craned forward with the rest of the crowd as the first beating of drums and blowing of shawms was heard on the west wind.

Will lifted Bethe and sat her astride his neck, and she rode there agog at everything she saw.

‘Why doesn’t the duke go straight to the White Hall?’ Will asked. ‘That’s the place where all royal business is done, isn’t it?’

The wizard waved a dismissive hand. ‘First, Friend Richard must be at pains to show how much the people love him. The governance of Trinovant depends on shows of respect as much as it does on force.’

‘Then he’s going to the Guild Hall?’

‘To be received by the City’s notables – the Lord Mayor, his Bailiff, the Sheriff, and the Aldermen of the twenty-six wards. All of these tom-fools he will shower with promises and praise, and they will do him a show of honour in return before he sets himself to the real work of the day.’

‘Do you think he’s testing the water?’ Willow asked.

‘Certainly he will be watching how the people regard him. And showing them what force he has at his command, in case there’s a riot in the offing.’

‘A riot?’ Willow asked in alarm. ‘Is that likely?’

‘He has already made the king call a Great Council.’

Will snapped round. ‘Well, thank you for telling me! When?’

‘Every lord in the land is ordered to present himself in three days’ time.’

‘To bend the knee before King Hal?’ Will asked.

Gwydion nodded. ‘Richard wants those who can be persuaded to stay – where he can keep an eye on them.’

‘Yes,’ Willow agreed. ‘And all those who will not come will be forced to declare as much.’

‘Three days…’ A vivid memory of Lord Warrewyk’s bloody handiwork came into Will’s mind. ‘Well, apart from the noblemen who were done to death following the battle at Delamprey, I imagine there are quite a few others who won’t be turning up.’

The wizard paused, considering carefully. ‘Perhaps more lords will heed the call than you imagine. Of course, there will be diehards, men like Henry, Duke of Mells, who have gone into the north with the queen, but there are many more who, in truth, want only to tend their own flocks. They will pay lip service to whichever camp is the stronger. If I am any judge, most of the lords who attended the Council at Corben Castle will attend here also.’

Will dropped his voice to a murmur. ‘Then they must be sweating rivers just now – a few days ago half of them swore they would see Duke Richard’s head chopped off for treason. Some of them would even have done it themselves if it meant getting a share of his lands.’

‘But do not forget in whose interest lies the peace now, Willand. Friend Richard wants to maintain the comfortable fiction that Hal is back on his throne and that all is now right with the Realm. Richard will be graciously pleased to forgive all who come to Trinovant to kneel before the king.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Will looked hard at the gate. ‘Will Richard settle for that? For myself, I wonder what he’s really up to.’

Gwydion tapped his nose and winked. ‘Soon we will know how it is going to be.’

Will saw a band of men appear under the great arch. City waits, they were, musicians in motley garb who played merrily upon sackbuts and shawms and beat upon tabrets with long sticks to herald the coming of the king. Each of the Guilds had sent liverymen, and they lined the road. Near them were arrayed the serjeants-at-law in their green finery, and walking at their centre the King’s Serjeant, carrying a golden mace upon his shoulder. Behind him came the Recorders and Justices – the judges of the law, and regulators of the people.

‘I’m surprised Duke Richard trusts to his safety at all,’ Will murmured, ‘with so many kinds of lawyer gathered in the road to greet him.’

‘Ha!’ Gwydion sniffed. ‘Our falcon does not mind a few toads strewing his path when he has the king himself in his talons. But if you are asking about the niceties of the deal, I will tell you that all the legalities have already been tidied up. Several edicts have been issued in the name of the king. These are writs that overturn those given out at the Great Council that was held under the CorbenTree – the ones that attainted Friend Richard. None of it was ever ratified, and so says the king: “All that was Ebor’s, is Ebor’s once again.” You see how much has been done in preparation for Duke Richard’s arrival? Not least all the counter-magic that I have expended!’

Despite the heat, Will felt a frostiness issuing from the wizard that seemed to confirm what Willow had said. He wondered, and not for the first time, what exactly happened when a wizard began to fail. Gwydion himself had said that the end of the present Age was nigh. What would become of Gwydion before he went into the Far North in search of his philosopher’s stone?

Will shut his eyes, feeling a familiar nausea move into the pit of his stomach. His heart began to thump faster. Chlu was somewhere in the crowd, searching, coming ever closer…

He closed his mind, guarding his talent, doing the equivalent in magical terms of hanging back quietly in the shadows. He was not sure whether that would be enough to hide him from his twin’s murderous awareness, but when Chlu appeared again he would meet him face to face. Beads of sweat stood out on Will’s forehead, but the feeling of danger passed away and his heart slowed again. He wiped his face and scanned the crowd, but there was no one familiar to be seen there.

‘Are you expecting anyone in particular?’ Gwydion asked from the side of his mouth.

‘Hmm?’

‘You seem pensive. Scared perhaps. Are you expecting Chlu?’

Will grimaced at the wizard’s imputation, and said uncomfortably, ‘The only reason I escaped from the Spire is that Chlu fled his true name.’

‘You should have told me that sooner.’

‘Should I?’

‘Do you feel him now in the crowd?’

‘He dare not attack me here.’

‘I agree. But only because there is no clear shot of you. He will not keep away for long.’

‘I hardly need you to tell me that.’

‘Nor will the fact that you know his true name afford you even a meagre measure of protection for long, for sooner or later Chlu will speak with Maskull about the matter and Maskull will tell him the truth.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you can only use his true name to destroy him by destroying yourself. He will gamble that you have not the skill, or more likely the courage, to use a power like that.’

‘Then he’ll be wrong!’ Will said, but he instantly regretted his unconsidered reply.

‘Is that so?’ Gwydion nodded judiciously, absorbing the remark and weighing it carefully. ‘Is that truly so, Willand? For, if it is, then you are as great a fool as any that I have ever met.’

But now the music had grown louder and the ironcollared dragonets were roused to groaning and flapping their stubby wings. The keepers at the capstans heaved on the bars to make the silver beasts draw back into the depths of the gatehouse and the stalls where they were out of sight.

High up between the towers of the Luddsgate itself stood a great, weathered statue of the ancient Brean king, Ludd. Men had climbed perilously to bedeck it with garlands and oak branches, and now sweepers were rushing to clear the way below. Fellows from nearby chapter houses came with incense burners and sprinklers of rose-water to disguise the air so the horses would not bolt at the stink. And then, almost too suddenly, the waiting was over. Three heralds in royal tabards came in sight. Then Duke Richard of Ebor appeared, bare-headed, sitting astride his famous white warhorse. Save for his helmet, he rode in full battle armour.