The sergeant is pretty sure that he’s going to bear the brunt of this, because he’s used to it never being the officer’s fault when something goes wrong. He knows other sergeants who’d pass the problem further down the chain and punish the rank and file soldiers for whatever imaginary ills had been committed, but he’s not like that and his men respect him for it.
“I’m not blaming you, Joshua I don’t understand what’s going on here and I think it’s time that we got some of the higher-ups involved.”
He stamps his feet in the entrance chamber to remove any remaining excess snow.
“With the prince unavailable, we’ll have to rouse his brother.”
“But, he could come round shortly, sir, couldn’t he? When I saw him last, he just looked like he had a bump on the head.”
“You could be right, sergeant, but while he’s incapacitated we still have an investigation to run and perpetrators to catch. We can’t to do that without somebody being in charge and that somebody is damned well not going to be me!”
He opens the inner door to the castle and finds that the air in here is quite a bit warmer than it was outside.
“Think about it, man. If something goes wrong, the prince dies, and the culprits haven’t been found, do you want to be the one who was in charge when his father comes to discover what happened?”
“That’s a damned good point, sir.” Joshua’s face whitens. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“They call it politics, I call it covering my own arse.”
He walks over to the great fire in the side of the hall.
“So, be a good man and send someone to wake his brother while I try to get a couple of others involved. Meet me back here when you’re done.”
“Will do, captain!” Joshua salutes and heads for the stairs.
Stretching and shivering, David, the bleary-eyed brother of the prince, finishes fastening his clothing and looks around for something warmer to put over the top.
“Here,” his wife lifts a long gown out of the cupboard, “pull this on too, it will keep the cold out of your bones, my dear.”
He looks at it. “With the family coat of arms and everything, my love.” He laughs. “Don’t you think I’ll look a little pretentious in that today? Whatever it is they’re waking me for I’m sure I don’t need to dress like I’ve turned up for a state coronation or something.”
“Don’t be silly, darling David. It’ll keep you warm and it will remind everyone of who it is that they’re disturbing at this time of the morning. Maybe they’ll treat you like a prince if you look like a prince?”
“I don’t care whether or not they treat me like a prince, you know that. That’s my brother’s domain and it’s all his own fault for being born first. I’m happy with my music, my art and my beautiful wife.” He reaches to take the gown and pulls her to him tightly all in one movement. “Whom I love to ravage.”
She leans back, trying to push him off. “Stop that, you fool! People are waiting for us.”
“Let them wait.”
“I thought you were cold and wanted the hot fire and breakfast, wrapped in a nice warm robe.”
“Well, that would be one way to get warm, but I’ve just thought of another.” He grins and winks at her.
“You’re incorrigible!” She pushes him off. “Now, put that robe on. Let’s have something to eat and find out what all the fuss is about.”
He sighs. “Very well my dear, if the affairs of state must come before the ‘affairs’ of state.”
He winks again and pulls on the warm fur robe which hangs all the way down to the back of his calves. “Would madame like to accompany me for a little breakfast?”
He extends his left elbow and she steps up, slipping her arm through it as they enter their morning room.
A short time later, he’s enjoying his second cup of hot mulled wine after a breakfast of eggs, cheese and toasted bread.
“Thank you, that was delicious.” He addresses the serving maid.
“You’re most welcome, your grace. It’s an honour to serve you and your lady wife.”
“No need to be so formal, dear. I’m not the powerful prince who runs the state.” He grins at her.
His wife kicks him under the table.
“Ow!” He reaches down and rubs his shin. “What did I do now?”
“Stop acting like you’re a nobody. The politeness and civility comes with the territory dear. They behave like that because they respect you, so stop making them feel uncomfortable.”
He turns to the servant girl.
“My apologies. Please feel free to grovel as much as you like.”
He grins, then yelps again. “Isn’t there something in the law about not kicking princes?”
His wife laughs as the girl does her absolute best to keep a straight face.
“Well, thank you once again,” he pauses for a second, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Usually Petra serves us, are you one of my brother’s servants?”
The girl curtsies deeply, her eyes downcast. “Lindy, your grace. Yes, I do normally work in the other wing. Will there be anything else, sire?”
He waves his hand to indicate that she should get up.
“Another jug of something warm wouldn’t go amiss, if you could possibly bring it through to my office. Nobody will tell me what’s going on, but I gather they want to talk to me.”
“I shall fetch that for you immediately, your grace.” The girl bobs a quick curtsy and turns away.
“Well, Elena, I ought to go and see what all the fuss is about.” He watches Lindy leaving the room. “I suppose they have to use terms like that with my brother. Petra just says ‘my lord’ doesn’t she?”
“She does. Maybe we’re going up in the world.” His wife smiles.
“I did have an idea about going up, earlier...”
Elena giggles. “Stop that! The servants will hear you.”
Prince David Pentrev chuckles and sips the last of his wine, swirling the dregs around in the bottom of the cup, watching the patterns made by the spices.
He stands, brushes a few crumbs from the front of his robe, kisses his wife on the forehead and leaves his private rooms to encounter the guard captain outside his door, accompanied by two burly pikemen.
“Here to arrest me, captain?” He asks, a little taken aback.
His wife rushes out to see what is happening.
“Quite the opposite, your grace. We’re here to ensure your safety. We’ve had some issues overnight and I’ll brief you as soon as we get somewhere private.”
“Right, my office, such as it is, is the second door down. It should suffice. Come with me, captain.”
Lindy approaches David’s office, a wooden handled tray preceding her, loaded with a jug of hot wine, and several cups since no one had informed her exactly how many people would be here.
The two guards prevent her access.
“He asked me to bring this to his office.” She stares at them. “Now either you can knock on the door and get them to let me in, or I can kick you hard in the shins, Michael Trevelyan, and you can explain to them when they come out to see what all the noise is about. Which would you prefer?” She smiles sweetly.
“All right, all right, Lindy. No need to get all violent on me.” He smiles. “I’ll see what they have to say.”
He raps on the door and the voices within cease talking.
The captain’s head appears in the doorway. “Yes?”
“The girl’s here with the drinks, captain.”
“Ah, excellent.” David shouts from within. “Don’t just stand there, let her in.”
It swings back and Lindy enters, taking the tray to the large mahogany desk in the centre and placing it carefully so as not to spill any.
“Will everyone be drinking, sire?” She enquires as she curtsies, a quick glance showing her that Joshua is in the room too.
“I’m not sure.” David replies, “Do you drink, sergeant?”
T
he sergeant looks decidedly uncomfortable. “We have it at home, yes, your grace. I’m not sure if it’d be right for me to drink with you, though. Protocol and all that.”
The prince’s brother looks a little downcast.
“I often wonder what it would be like to just be able to have friends and take wine with them when one felt like doing so, without worrying about what their station in life might be.”
The captain clears his throat. “Your grace, we need to get to the business at hand. There’s been a serious attack.”
“Yes, you were saying that just before Lindy arrived, but nobody has told me who’s been attacked, or why everyone’s got me out of bed to tell me about it. Are we talking about a war? Do we need to get Lindy out of the room first because it’s all top-secret?” He raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t my brother be dealing with this?”
“It’s a serious business, your grace, and Lindy’s already aware of it. She’s been assisting us since the early hours of this morning.” The captain takes a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, sire. Your brother’s been attacked and currently lies injured in his chambers, attended by a healer.”
“Attacked? Why wasn’t I told sooner? Why did you let me mess around having breakfast and wine, I must go to him! Has anyone told Bronwyn?” David rises from his chair.
“Not just yet, sire. We didn’t disturb you because we were trying to pursue his assailants, or even find who they were, so some plan of action could be made. For all we knew your brother had simply had a bump and might come round in an hour or so with just a headache for his troubles, but that hasn’t happened.”
David takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before asking: “Will he die?”
“We don’t know yet, sire. The healers are examining him. I have to make it clear to you that, in the absence of your brother, you become the ruler of Upper Gwynedd.” The captain awaits a reaction, and gets one, but possibly not what he expected.
“Me? You must be jesting, captain.” David stands up behind the desk. “I want to see my brother, and I want to see him now!”
Elena appears in the doorway, blocked by the two guards. “What’s going on? Why are these two stopping me from seeing my husband?”
The captain shakes his head ruefully and reflects on how much easier it is to deal with matters in the official state chambers where people can’t just breeze in when they feel like it.
David stands, motioning the guards aside. “Let her in!” He moves around the desk to meet her and pulls his wife to him tightly. “Llewellyn’s been attacked and may be near death.”
She hugs him, her expression serious. “What happened?”
He steps back from her. “Actually, we haven’t got that far yet. I just wanted to see how Llewellyn is. Apparently, I’m in charge now, although nobody seems to care what I want to do, which is to see my brother.”
“Of course you’re in charge, my love.” She replies. “If he’s been hurt then they’re all depending on you now. You must be strong.”
“But what if he dies before I get to see him?” His mouth droops and his eyes glisten.
His wife turns to the guard captain. “Is that likely? Because, if it is, then we must go now.”
Captain John Yovvan looks serious for a moment.
“He’s injured. He’s sleeping, and that may be all that’s wrong with him. We found no wounds, just a bump on the side of his head. The healers are with him.”
He indicates Joshua by his side.
“The sergeant and I have been busy all night trying to discover what happened, but we need instructions about what to do next. That can only come from the prince, which is currently your husband, ma’am.”
A flash of triumph crosses Elena’s face, but she hides it quickly.
“The captain’s right, my dear. We have to take care of this and find out what happened, and whether we need to deal with anyone. That’s what princes do.”
“Very well.” He takes a deep breath to calm himself, before walking back around his desk and retaking his position in the green leather upholstered chair. “Please, tell us briefly what happened, captain.”
John recounts the events of the previous night as best he can, pieced together from the scant evidence they found in the snowfall.
“Dead? All four of his bodyguards?” The blood drains from his face once more and he looks a little ill. “Oh, dear gods. What about their families — has someone informed them?”
“Not yet, sire. That’s why we needed this meeting with you and with other members of the palace staff.” The captain continues. “I’m sure various rumours are already circulating around the town, and we must know how to proceed.”
“Well, someone must inform their families. If you think secrecy is still required, captain, then please arrange to have them brought to the castle. Give them rooms, so they can have family around them when they hear the news.” David replies. “Our brother’s bodyguards have served him well for many years, and they deserve no less.”
“It shall be as you order, sire.” John inclines his head in approval.
“So, how many attackers do we think there were? Why did they attack him now, and how did they get into the town to do so?” David controls his breathing to fight back the panic that is rising within.
“I examined the area but the signs and trail were messed up by the large numbers who’d come out to see what happened. My sergeant here was the first on the scene and can describe it better than I can.”
Captain Yovvan once again indicates Joshua.
The sergeant steps forward, his feet shuffling as he moves.
“Begging your pardon, your grace, but our first concern was to get the prince to safety, being shocked to find him there like that, and we sort of messed up the place, because we had to use a pony and a canvas contraption to bring him back to the castle.”
“I am glad to hear it, sergeant. That would have been my first action too.” David sucks in his breath, nodding. “So, what can you remember about how it looked before you took my brother to safety?”
“There were footprints coming from at least four different directions in the snow. The men died quick. I think they were caught by surprise as three of them didn’t even have their weapons out.”
The sergeant pauses, his eyes looking upwards as he chews his lip.
“If I were to guess, your grace, I’d say there had to be about six of them to take down four guards and the prince like that. Locals say they heard him shout for help, but by the time they were out their front doors there was nobody in sight.”
“I’d agree with his appraisal of the situation, sire.” John adds his own thoughts. “It had to be a sudden attack to overpower them so easily. It sickens me that two of them were stabbed in the back and didn’t even see their attackers. This was carefully planned and I believe they had an inside man.”
“One of our own? One of our guards?” David looks shocked.
“We found this, clenched in your brother’s fist with the material still attached to it, as you can see.”
He reaches into the pouch at his waist and places a brooch on the desk. Some checked material hangs on the pin where it was ripped from a cloak.
“That design looks familiar. Why does that design look familiar?” David is frowning and searching his memory.
“Your brother had it made for his friend, Sir William Gracie. It’s part of a set of three items he presented to him at the Midsummer Ball last year, sire.”
David’s eyes grow wide.
“William? William! Surely not? He’s one of my brother’s dearest friends.” He leans towards the item, staring at it.
“You cannot truly believe that he’s involved in this? The man is a gentleman, a connoisseur of fine art and fine wines, a patron of musicians, not a common thug who’d attack my brother in an alley.”
“Nonetheless, sire, this was recovered from your brother’s clenched fist as I stated.”
The captain taps the brooch with h
is finger.
“The only logical conclusion is that he ripped it from his attacker’s cloak. Perhaps he only lives now because he managed to shout for help and a door opened in time to drive the attackers away before they could finish the job — or they believe they have finished the job?”
“What do you mean, captain?” David struggles to draw his gaze away from the brooch.
“To all the onlookers, it appeared that the prince was dead and those who know otherwise have been sworn to secrecy. Only those loyal to us know the truth, sire.” He points to the small group within the room.
“He may think he’s been successful.”
“I cannot believe William would attack my brother. Evidence be damned!” David’s fist bangs on the mahogany desk. “The man is our friend. He has been here for years, why would he turn against us now?”
“That I can’t answer. Our investigation is ongoing, and we’ve yet to discover who planned this whole affair.” The captain shrugs. “It may be that they’re in the pay of your enemies.”
“You think them mercenaries?” David glares around the room. “Someone would pay to have my brother killed?”
“Your father has enemies and many would profit from the loss of stability in Upper Gwynedd. I’m no expert on this matter, but I do know one, and he’ll be meeting us later, sire.”
The now Prince Regent lifts his wine cup to his lips, his hand shaking.
“I’m not cut out for this, captain. I was never meant to be in charge.”
He sips before continuing. “Llewellyn was the strong one. He was trained to be the leader. He was the master of the sword. Me? I paint. I travel. I write music. I have no skills of statehood. I fear, I’m not up to this task.”
His wife rushes to his side and kneels by the chair. “Husband, there comes a time in the affairs of men when they have to rise with the tide, or be swept aside by it. The country needs you and we must forget our own desires and serve it, as is our duty. You are not alone, my prince.” She bows and kisses the signet ring on his finger.
Tears well up in his eyes as he leans over the side of the chair to hug her and bury his head in her hair. “You were always stronger than me, Elena, and you’re right as usual.”
The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan) Page 3
