Robert Carter - Whitemantle

They parted company in the early morning.

Lord Dudlea took Gwydion’s hand. With bowed head, he pledged himself. ‘I shall keep my word, Crowmaster. I shall wait for the army that now marches south towards Trinovant, and I shall offer service to Duke Richard of Ebor.’

‘Is that wise?’ Will asked. ‘You were his captive before you escaped. Then you joined the queen against him.’

‘It was the king’s court to which I fled, not the queen’s.’

‘Oh, indeed? Rumour has it that you tried to arrange the murder of Richard while he was still in the Blessed Isle.’

The lord’s eyes opened wide and his wife looked to him as if she had been betrayed by a foolish act carried out in her absence. ‘That rumour is a lie.’

Gwydion looked upon the lord pityingly and spread his hands. ‘A lie, John Sefton? We have not even taken our leave of this clearing and already you have betrayed your promise to me. Is it so hard to be true to your word?’

‘Forgive him, Master Gwydion,’ Lady Dudlea begged. ‘I have been his staff. Without a wife to oversee his policies things naturally go awry with him.’

The wizard smiled. ‘It would be better if you let him be, lady. Grown men must learn to rely on their own consciences. It seems to me that the main question you now have before you is this: how will Lord Warrewyk receive you when next you meet? He murdered a great many of the queen’s friends after the battle.’

Lord Dudlea met Gwydion’s eye. ‘However he looks upon us, I shall lay myself upon the king’s mercy. If that means pleading for the Duke of Ebor’s mercy too, then that I shall do also.’

‘Do you think he has the strength to do the right thing?’ Willow asked when they were out of sight.

But Gwydion only smiled.

The wizard took them south on unfrequented roads, ones that went the longer way around but avoided the great chapter house at Verlamion. For that Will was grateful. He disliked and feared the Sightless Ones – or ‘red hands’ as the common folk privately called them – and he knew that at Verlamion they would be as thick as wasps about a honey pot.

The company spent the morning journeying through fruitful farm land. Will knew that if the weather kept dry for a month this part of the Realm would see a good harvest. But then, when the reaping and threshing was all done and the nights began to close in and leaves began spreading red-gold in the hedges, then out would come the Sighdess Ones with their tally sticks and counting frames to take away the best portion of the bounty from the churls who had grown it.

At Aubrey End Will announced that he could feel the presence of a green lane. The flow of earth power was strong in the soil and Gwydion marked the place with his sigil in the bole of a tree. The lign tasted, Will said, like that of the elder, and Gwydion said that, unless he was very much mistaken, they would soon cross the lign of the rowan too, and this they did before they had gone another league.

Will looked along the lign and knew it for the same stream of dark power that flowed through Ludford, many leagues to the west. And when he looked eastward he knew they could be no more than a couple of leagues west of Verlamion. A shiver passed through him. Gwydion had said that the Elders of the great chapter house there would stop at nothing to bring to book the defiler who had cracked their Doomstone. Will had not cared that it had turned out to be none other than the lid that sealed the tomb of their revered Founder. He had only wanted to break the lorc’s stony heart that day, and he had saved many a life by his actions.

They came to the banks of the River Gadden well before noon. It was here that Will felt yet another lign prickle his skin. This one was fainter and harder to follow, but it seemed to trend a little south of east, much as the rowan lign had. There was no doubt in Will’s mind that it was the yew lign, the same that passed close by the Vale.

‘Keep up!’ Gwydion called back, flicking the reins of his horse.

‘Master Gwydion, I can feel the Eburos lign.’

‘What of it?’

‘Nothing – except I thought it was our task to find more battlestones.’

‘There is no time to tarry at present. We must reach Trinovant before nightfall!’

‘Then ride on ahead of us!’ Will told him. ‘We’ve a young child to consider. And this old nag’s already tired out.’

The wizard waited for them to draw abreast. ‘I would rather you came along with me,’ he said with exaggerated patience. ‘This is not a safe time for anyone to be on the road. News of the battle has yet to reach these parts and there will be much uncertainty in men’s hearts.’

Will saw that Gwydion’s impatience was unsettling his horse. It had soon taken him fifty paces ahead and was champing to get on further still.

Willow watched the wizard with concern. ‘He’s getting grumpier by the hour,’ she whispered. ‘I hope he’s all right.’

‘He’s worried. And is it any wonder, when things have gone so far astray?’

He partly meant their quest to rid the Realm of battlestones, but he was also thinking of the unspeakable bloodshed that had followed the fight at Delamprey. While a greater battle had been narrowly prevented, the murder of so many noble prisoners at Lord Warrewyk’s hands had blighted the victory. Will was sure that act had sown the seeds of revenge – seeds that must eventually be reaped as a yet bloodier harvest.

So far as the battlestones were concerned, the loss of Will’s talisman had been an even greater blow, for it was the only real weapon they had ever possessed. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that Gwydion was right – Maskull had finally gained the upper hand.

‘And you can cheer up, too!’ Willow said. ‘Things might have gone a lot worse for us. That loathsome woman – I won’t dignify her with the title of queen – is running away into the north with what’s left of her friends. Things look set for a change at last, and probably a change for the better.’

‘Maybe. But Master Gwydion once told me to remember that we’re peacemakers – we shouldn’t be feeling pleased that Duke Richard’s forces won at Delamprey, even though he’s been a better friend to us than his enemies ever have. The balance has been shifted again, and that’s the important thing.’

Willow settled Bethe in a more comfortable position in front of her. ‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t feel happy for the duke. We lived among his household. You were even schooled with his sons. Duchess Cicely helped my father and me when she might have sent us back to face Lord Strange’s displeasure. And she looked after Bethe as if she was one of her own.’

He sighed, trying to see how best to put it. ‘I’m not saying Duke Richard isn’t a good man at heart. He’s probably better than most, but he’s human like us all, and—’

Willow grunted. ‘And what? When fighting against him is that she-wolf who cares nothing for nobody. Tell me where’s our loyalty supposed to lie?’

‘You just have to try to see things more broadly. That’s what Master Gwydion means.’

‘Oh, is that it?’

Will sucked his teeth. He saw the way his infant daughter’s eyes swept across the land, drinking in everything they noticed, delighting in every bird and squirrel she saw. Her expressions were so much like her mother’s, and yet Willow said they were exactly like his own.

‘It’s got something to do with the way the past gets made out of the future,’ he said. ‘There’s the future where all is uncertain and yet to be fixed, and there’s the past, where all is done and cannot be undone. But where the future touches the past, there’s a thin line. That’s what we call the present. That’s where we live.’