Bronwyn examines it. Her eyes open wider and a gasp escapes her lips.
“This is William’s seal.”
“William Gracie? Your husband’s attacker? Why would he be writing to you?” Elena’s struggles to control her tone.
“I don’t know. If the information David has acquired is correct, then he risks much by coming back here.”
She breaks the seal and reads the note carefully, twice.
“Well, what does he say?” Elena’s impatience rises.
“He professes his innocence and asks that I meet him.” She turns to look at her husband.
“I know I’ve seen all the evidence against him, dear sister, but something in my heart can’t believe that he would do such a thing to my poor Llewellyn.”
“Is it wise to go and meet him? If he’s guilty, might he not have some plan to attack you, or abduct you?”
“William? I just won’t believe he would do that.” She looks down at the letter again.
“He’d never harm me. He’s been a friend for years and, whatever may have happened, I’m inclined to allow him to explain himself.”
“Where does he ask to meet, is it somewhere dangerous?”
Elena leans forward, trying to see the letter.
“No. He’s chosen quite a public place, but he asks that I come alone.”
“Surely not. You wouldn’t be safe. You must at least take some guards. Where exactly does he want to meet?”
She seems solicitous for the welfare of her sister-in-law.
“By the fountain, to the side of the temple grounds.” She looks up. “I’m sure I’ll be quite safe there. It’s a busy area. All the people entering and leaving would be within easy reach should I shout for help.”
“Well, I don’t approve of you taking this course of action, but I love you and Llewellyn deeply and won’t stand in your way.”
She reaches for Bronwyn to hug her. “Please, be careful.”
“I shall.” She returns her hug, then pushes back to look into her eyes. “Can you help me slip away?”
“Of course I can. You know I’m devoted to you both. I’ll help in any way that I can.”
She hugs her again, a smile on her face and a hardness in her eyes.
Some hours later, with full bellies and possessed of all the information that the family can provide, the three Ravens decide it’s time to take their leave and return to the Tavern.
The Druid walks outside with them.
“Perhaps I should come with you, I may be able to assist?” He indicates Lightning. “At the very least I could keep this one fed.”
She laughs. “I don’t eat that much. I was only hungry when you found me because I’d been chopping wood.”
“I have seen wasps that beat their wings slower than you swung that axe, dear lady.” He replies. “It’s no wonder you eat all the time.”
“Not all the time.” She replies, her cheeks darkening. “I just get a little peckish.”
“As I said,” he reaches into his bag and offers her another chunk of cheese, “I can be helpful.”
Wildcat laughs and pushes Lightning forward to accept it.
“She does have quite an appetite, but we need to be on our way and where we go you can’t follow, Druid.”
His eyes twinkle. “You’d be surprised where I can follow, my feline friend. Very surprised indeed.”
He turns and smiles at her puzzled face. “We’ll meet again, my new friends. When the time is right and you have need of me I’ll be there. Thank you, once again, for helping my people.”
He hugs each of them in turn.
Lightning returns his hug. Wildcat squirms a little then pats him on the back. Filippo tries to push him away but fails and stands awkwardly as the little man clasps him about his elbows, his hands barely reaching his back.
Having said his farewells, the Druid re-enters the home of the rescued family and the three turn towards the town.
“Did you hear his full name?” Lightning asks as they walk back together.
“Yes, what of it?” Filippo asks.
“In the old tongue, if memory serves me right, it would roughly translate as ‘The Lord of the Forests’.”
At the appointed time, just after midday, the Lady Bronwyn arrives at the front of the temple, wearing an old cloak with the hood pulled up and over her face so she won’t be recognised.
She joins the throng of the crowd for a few minutes, looking around to see if William’s here yet, before she breaks away from them and slowly walks over to the fountain to wait.
The snow is melting, although the wind is still bitingly cold.
She’s glad of the fur mittens and sheepskin boots to keep her from the chill. Leaving the castle had been easier than she thought possible with the aid of her sister-in-law. They’d taken a route through the kitchens and into the stable yard where Elena had arranged for her to depart among a group of servant girls who’d been given the afternoon off. The guards didn’t even look at them as they used the side gate and headed down the hill towards the market district.
As she sits on the edge of the fountain she reflects, for the first time, on how easy it was to be invisible when nobody thought you were anyone important.
“I knew you would come, my dear.”
She tries not to jump up and calmly turns her head to see William, in some very strange clothing, taking a seat beside her on the edge of the cold carved stone.
“William.” She begins to rise, and he motions for her to sit again.
It’s a busy area and crowds are milling around the front of the temple and the surrounding streets, crossing and re-crossing the square that contains the fountain.
“Try not to draw attention to us, Bronwyn, I do believe people are looking for me.” He smiles.
“I think everyone is looking for you, William. They’ve posted rewards for you. I’m here because I keep telling them that you couldn’t have done this. You just couldn’t have.” She looks into his eyes. “Please, tell me you couldn’t have?”
“Goodness, of course I couldn’t! What do they take me for? Some common thief? An assassin who’s hidden in plain sight for years just waiting for a moment to strike in the darkness?”
“That does seem to be what they think.” She stifles a sob. “My poor Llewellyn. He just won’t wake up.”
“Look, old thing, none of that is my style. If I’d wanted to hurt him I could have done so many times, when we sat drinking alone.”
He reaches out to rest his hand on her arm. “I certainly wouldn’t have needed to attack him and all his bodyguards in the dead of night in the snow. I’m sorry to say this, but anyone who believes I could do such thing is just plain stupid.”
A hurt expression crosses his face.
“I told them you couldn’t have done it William, but they have so many things that seem to show you were there.”
“What things? I was nowhere near it.” He looks surprised. “As far as I can tell, at the time when some scoundrel was attacking Llewellyn I was, unfortunately, indisposed in my bed.”
“Indisposed?” She frowns at him.
“I’m afraid I may have had too much wine that night.” He grins sheepishly. “The first thing I knew about the attack on dear Llewellyn was when those loutish guards were banging on my door in the early hours of the morning. It sounded like someone was playing drums inside my head.”
He winces at the memory.
“He held your brooch in his hands, William. They also found his ring in your house, along with documents outlining a plot against him and our family.”
At this he looks genuinely shocked.
He has considered that he was being framed, but that someone has managed to plant evidence in his home means it goes much deeper than he thought. It could have only been done after he left, which narrows the time frame, and the list of who could have done it.
“Did they leave my house unguarded after they couldn’t find me?”
“No.” She replies
, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing at her eyes ineffectually.
She looks him in the eye to watch his reactions once more.
“They had guards posted the whole time and still the found these horrid things inside your house.”
He shakes his head. Who could have put them there? This must mean that someone in the castle guard is in on the plot against him? His mind races from thought to thought.
“I can assure you, my sweet Bronwyn, Llewellyn is one of my dearest friends and I would never do anything to harm him. Please,” he leans forward and takes her handkerchief, holding her hand in his, “you must believe me. Even should all these other boors think the worst of me, I can endure as long as I know that you believe me.”
She looks at him, in his mismatched clothing and ugly cloak, shaking her head.
“Dear William. You’ve been our friend for so long, but what they’ve found and the things they told me about your strange house, and how you vanished into thin air while they were still talking to you. I don’t know what I believe.”
She begins to sob and withdraws her hand from his to wipe her tears once again.
William has a genuinely hurt look upon his face as he leans forward to remonstrate with her, when someone grasps his wrist. He spins around to see a pedlar who’s left his cart and appears to be assaulting him.
He tries to wrench his arm free but the peddler has a vice-like grip and is reaching to his mouth with his other hand. William suddenly realises that the man is holding a whistle. He yanks hard, pulling him in closer, and delivers a crushing head-butt to his face as he knocks the it away.
The whistle flies loose and skitters across the icy cobbles.
As the man drops towards the ground, William raises his knee sharply under his chin sending him to oblivion and spins to face the Lady Pentrev.
“Bronwyn! Did you do this? Is this just an elaborate trap where you pretend to speak to me while your guards arrest me?”
Bronwyn shakes her head, shocked by the violence. “No. I didn’t tell them I was coming here. I’m in disguise like you.”
She stares at the pedlar. “How did you do that? Is he all right?”
William is sure that those around him have noticed the altercation and decides it is time to leave, and quickly.
“I have to go Bronwyn. Please, believe in me. I would never hurt Llewellyn!”
He snatches up her hand and kisses her knuckles before turning to rush into the crowd.
Seconds later he doubles up, the breath flying from his body in response to the huge fist that hammers into his solar plexus. He drops and rolls and rises again turning to face his assailant just in time to dodge a punch that was on target for his jaw, and would easily have rendered him unconscious.
He skips backwards, gasping for breath as more arms grab him from behind. Doubling forward, he swings his head back viciously, but the man holding him is ready and has ducked to one side.
The other rushes towards him and between the two of them they bear him to the ground as he hears a whistle. He wriggles, strikes with his knees and elbows and manages to break loose in time to stand up and be tackled headlong by another assailant.
He doesn’t recognise these men.
“Stop it! You’re hurting him.”
The Lady Bronwyn shouts, rushing towards the altercation. Someone grabs her from behind, wrapping their arms around her, and she screams.
“Help!” She shakes her head free of the covering hood of her cloak. “Help! I am Lady Bronwyn Pentrev. I’m being attacked.”
“I’m not attacking you, Lady.” The voice says in her ear. “I’m preventing you from being injured.”
She screams again and wriggles and kicks and sees Elena come running towards her accompanied by soldiers she doesn’t know.
“Elena! Help!”
Elena rushes to her front as more men grab William.
“Calm down, dear sister, this man is a friend.”
Bronwyn screams and kicks harder at the man’s shins with her heels.
“Get him off me.”
“He’s trying to stop you from being hurt. Please, stop kicking him. He’s not an enemy. It is the marshal from the temple.”
Bronwyn cranes her neck looking around Elena to see William being swarmed by another half-dozen of the unknown guards.
“They’re hurting William!”
“They’re arresting him.” Elena smiles. “In case you’ve forgotten, dear Bronwyn, he has murdered four people and attacked your husband.”
“I don’t want him hurt! Let me go!”
Elena nods to the Marshal who releases the Lady Bronwyn. She is immediately intercepted by her sister-in-law as she tries to rush towards the fray.
“Calm yourself. This is not acceptable behaviour for a lady of your station.” Elena clasps Bronwyn to herself and whispers in her ear.
“Please calm down. No one is trying to kill him. They’re just restraining him to take him to be questioned, which is all they tried to do when they went to his house.”
“But these are not our guards.” Bronwyn responds. “I don’t know these men.”
“They’re from the temple. I had no choice. I couldn’t let him get away, dear sister, until we know the truth.”
Bronwyn stops trying to push past and looks at her dumbstruck. “You did this? You brought them to catch him?”
“What else could I do? He’s wanted for serious crimes. Would an innocent man run the way he has?”
“It’s William! He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
The Lady Elena indicates the unconscious soldiers in the area. “He certainly hurt those three.”
“Because they attacked him. He didn’t know who they were. I don’t know who they are.” She begins to shake. “I thought we were both being attacked. I could have talked him into just coming back to the castle with me to sort this out. There was no need for this.”
“There was every need for this, sister. This is about the law and about doing what’s right. I had no choice.”
Captain John Yovvan complete with a full complement of the castle guard arrives at the temple.
He turns to address his men. “I don’t care what happens, or who says what to you, if I’m not back out shortly with the prisoner you come in armed and you take him. Is that clear?”
Both sergeants agree.
He enters the temple pushing his way past the two acolytes who attempt to impede his progress and shouting.
“You will produce the man called William Gracie and hand him over to my custody immediately, by order of the prince.”
A very flustered abbot appears, surrounded by other members of the temple staff.
“I’m not sure we have him.”
He holds his arms out from his sides. The worshippers at the temple rapidly cease their devotions and moved out of the path between the two men.
“You most assuredly do have him. I am going to count to ten. If someone doesn’t appear with him by that time, then I’ll bring armed guards in, and we’ll go through this place room by room until we acquire him. Is that clear enough for you, monk?”
The lack of an honorific title is not lost on the abbot, or those surrounding him.
“You are in a holy temple, you cannot make these threats.”
“I can, I am, and they are not threats.” The captain replies, then adds. “One! Two! Three! Four!”
There is some consternation down the aisle of the right precept and a door opens as the marshal appears flanked by two of his officers.
“Is there something with which I can assist, Lord Abbot?”
“Five! The only thing with which you can assist, marshal, is in producing William Gracie immediately and handing him over into my custody before I’m forced to take him from you.”
The marshal smiles. “Do you really mean to assault us within the temple, over a common murderer?”
“Six! It seems no one’s willing to take me seriously.” He replies, making a signal with his left hand,
seen by those behind him.
“It’s not that, dear captain.” The marshal replies, in a reasonable tone. “It’s just that…”
At that moment a score of guards run into the temple, spears and crossbows at the ready and spread out in a line either side of the captain.
The marshal’s mouth hangs open.
“Seven!” He continues. “I’m terribly sorry. I appear to have ruined your concentration.”
Another hand signal sees the spears lowered and crossbows aimed.
“Eight! Please, continue to tell me how I’ll not bring armed men into your temple and take him from you. Nine!”
The captain drops his hand to the scabbard at his side. “I do look forward to hearing your reasoning, although I’ve found that a crossbow bolt to the throat tends to interfere with the vocal cords, does it not? Ten!”
He draws his sword and takes a step towards the marshal and the abbot.
“Would you like me to demonstrate?”
Prince David Pentrev sits in his office chair, or rather that of his older brother which he’s been obliged to fill, and rubs his temples as he listens to the tirade from his wife about the actions of the captain.
John Yovvan stands stiffly to attention in front of the desk, seemingly unconcerned by the Lady Elena’s outbursts.
He notes that her face has now gone from a flushed pink through to a deep red. He wonders if it would be possible for it to approach a suffused shade of purple, should she get even more worked up.
Finally she stops for a breath and points at the captain, shouting to her husband. “So what are you going to do about him threatening the abbot and the temple staff with your guards?”
“I’m sure I’m going to deal with him most seriously.” He replies. “But first, I’m going to discuss this matter with him because, as far as I can see, he has succeeded in the task which I set him this week — namely: to capture William Gracie.”
She launches into another fit of screaming and shouting.
“Really, dear Elena, this is most unbecoming. I understand you’re upset, but you’re also a lady. I really don’t think that sort of language suits a lady, do you?”
The captain does his best to suppress a smirk and keep his face set in a neutral position.
The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan) Page 15
