"I'm not going back to that cage again. Are you sure Rowena isn't here?"
"Positive. I know how you feel, but we need to get you to safety."
A significant look passed between the two men. "At the risk of offending you, Jeram," Gawl said, "you haven't the first idea how I feel."
"It may surprise you, your majesty, but I think I do. You have every right to seek vengeance against the traitors, and there will be a time and place for that. This is not it. Siward Thomas once said something very similar to me. I believe that's what got me started in this whole affair."
Gawl looked from Quinn to the locksmith, who gave him a weak smile and looked very much like he wanted to be anyplace other than where he was at the moment.
"All right," Gawl said. "When the time comes."
One of the first people Gawl saw when he entered the courtyard was Shelby Haynes, the gray-haired colonel who had been in charge of his personal bodyguard before he was imprisoned. The moment Haynes caught sight of the king, he fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Forgive me, your majesty. I failed you." Gawl shook his head. "Get up, man. You didn't fail anybody. There was nothing you could have done. Fighting against men is one thing. Fighting against the Ancients' magic is quite another. I assign no blame to you."
Gawl put his hand under Haynes's elbow, helped him to his feet, and the two men embraced. "Who are these others?" Gawl asked. "These are men I've been in contact with for the last three years. Some come from units of the Southern Army and some from the Northern Battalions. Many were at the battle of Fanshaw Castle. Others came to me in ones and twos. The men of your bodyguard who remained loyal to you and refused to pledge their loyalty to Lord Guy were all executed on the main square in Barcora."
"And what about you?" Gawl asked. "You were their commander."
"I was made a particular example of Guy had my legs and arms broken and I was thrown from the cliffs into the sea and left to drown. I didn't."
"Dear Lord," Gawl whispered. He looked at Colonel Haynes and then at the other assembled soldiers. Most stood quietly beside their horses and smiled back at him. A few nodded in his direction. Gawl opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and turned his head away. He stared out of the front gate of the castle for a space of time. There were tears in his eyes when he turned back.
"I have always taken my responsibilities as king seriously," he said, his voice rising. "Rulers are often said to be the seeds of war, but they can also be the seeds of peace. I want to thank all of you for the risk you have undertaken in coming here. I'm told that our country is at war now. I intend to remedy that.
"A moment ago I said no one could stand against the Ancients' magic. I was wrong. Together we can do anything. Let them throw what they will against us. You have held true to me, and as your king, I pledge my solemn oath to do no less for you and for our people. I will do this or die trying."
The seaside village of Marigan was no different from ten other small towns along the Sennian coast. It spread out along a small horseshoe-shaped bay, and above it rose a series of green tree-covered hills. Those hills eventually merged into the Camenon mountain range. Apart from a lively merchant trade made possible by a deep harbor, most of the people in Marigan made their living from the sea and produced some of the region's best wines. As a rule, they had no more to do with the country's politics than was strictly necessary. Quayside shops sold everything from silks and perfumes to furniture and fruits from such faraway neighbors as Coribar and Senecal.
The largest and most dominating building in Marigan was the church. It sat on a hillside overlooking the town, like a watchful mother guarding her children.
The Falcon's Nest, located alongside the harbor, was one of the town's two taverns. It was a low one-story stone structure with rough-cut wooden beams in the facade. Inside, the building was about what Gawl expected. There
was a long bar of dark polished wood and a number of tables. At ten o'clock in the morning he, Quinn, and Haynes were the only customers there. In order to avoid attracting attention, they left their escort on the outskirts of town. Despite some grumbling on his part, Gawl agreed to wear a cloak Quinn had brought with him, though it did little to disguise the king's giant form.
The landlord appeared and took their orders. He returned fifteen minutes later with two plates of eggs and sausages for Gawl, a sandwich for Haynes, and some toast and jam for Quinn. A serving girl followed him out, carrying a pitcher of orange juice and a pot of hot tea. After she set them down on the table, her gaze lingered on Gawl for a moment and she smiled at him with parted lips. There was a touch more sway in her hips when she returned to the kitchen.
"Shrink down a bit, Gawl," Quinn said under his breath.
"This is down."
Quinn drew a long-suffering breath and sipped his tea. "If all goes well, our ship should be here at midday."
"And if it doesn't go well?"
"It will," Quinn assured him.
"I don't see why you didn't just have it wait in the harbor for us."
"Too risky," Colonel Haynes replied.
"Why is that?"
"The Archbishop's guards, your majesty."
"What are you talking about? When did Willis get guards?"
"A little over two years ago. It was one of his first edicts after he was elected archbishop, and I use the term 'elected' advisedly. There are probably a thousand of them throughout the country."
Incredulous, Gawl put his drink down. "You're not serious?"
"I wish I wasn't," Haynes said. "They have the right to
arrest anyone charged with the crime of heresy, or who engages in the practice of magic." "What?"
"Or who worships the devil," Haynes added "Worships the devil?" Gawl repeated. "Oh, there's an entire list of what constitutes heresy and devil worship," Haynes told him. "Offenders are hauled before an ecclesiastic court and given the opportunity to repent and atone for their sins. Usually that means jail or working in his eminence's vineyards. Those who don't are tortured ... or disappear."
Gawl's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "I'll hang that lying bastard myself."
"Willis generally targets foreigners or anyone who has the audacity to speak out against him," Quinn explained. "The amount of foreign trade visiting Barcora these days is less than one-tenth of what it was four years ago."
"The result," Haynes said, "is that the price of wine has reached almost twenty dollars a barrel for the red and nearly thirty dollars for the yellow."
Gawl picked up a tangerine and slowly began to peel it. "It took me five years to ease our tariffs and open the ports to the outside world, and they slam them shut with this rubbish. It all comes down to lining the pockets of a few at the expense of the many. I won't have it, I tell you."
Two other patrons who had entered the inn turned in their direction.
"Keep your voice down," Quinn whispered. Gawl glowered at the constable for a second then popped a section of the tangerine in his mouth and began chewing. His chest rose and fell slowly as he looked out the window at the bay. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke again. "I remember the water being bluer," Gawl said quietly.
Quinn and Haynes both exchanged glances, and the rest of the meal passed in silence.
When they were finished, they called for the bill. Quinn
handed the innkeeper a gold sovereign and waited while he went to get their change. But instead of giving the money to Quinn when he returned, the innkeeper walked past him and directly up to Gawl. The king was still staring out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.
"My name is Tom Dunn, your majesty. There are three Archbishop's men outside."
Gawl turned around and looked down at Dunn. He was a man of medium build with gray hair and a broad, honest face.
"My disguise must not be as effective as I had hoped," Gawl said.
Haynes and Quinn moved to the door and looked out.
"How did you know?" Quinn asked the landlord
.
Dunn opened his hand to reveal three silver half-crowns bearing Gawl's profile.
Gawl glanced at them and then at Tom Dunn. "It never was my best angle."
"I guess you're every bit as big as they say you are," said Dunn. "Never thought to meet you in person, sire."
"Why tell me about the Archbishop's men, Master Dunn?"
"I'm guessing that Lord Guy didn't let you out of the keep just so you could enjoy breakfast here."
"And . . . ?"
"And a lot of people don't hold with what they did to you, your majesty."
"Are you one of those people?"
"Me? I stay as far from lords and ladies as I can. The fact is, things were going along pretty well before they locked you up."
"I see."
"Now, if I did have a mind to get involved with politics, which I don't, I'd say it's for the people to decide when they don't want a king anymore, and not a few who are out to make themselves rich. If you know what I mean."
The smaller man stared up at Gawl, and after a few seconds the king started to chuckle. "Well said, Master Innkeeper. I shall remember your words."
"There's a back door you and your people can use, sire. It will be more convenient. The three outside generally meet their two friends every Sixth Day for drinks. I imagine the others will be here soon. If you follow the alleyway to the street and turn right, it will take you down to the docks."
"What makes you think we're going to the docks?" Quinn asked.
"Just a guess," Tom Dunn said, "but there's a big ship from Mirdan that dropped anchor a while ago. We don't get a lot of Mirdanite's here."
"They're headed this way," Haynes said. "Thank you, my friend. I'm in your debt," Gawl said. "Just see you clean house when you're back at the palace. There's been a nasty collection of wharf rats around lately."
Gawl and the others made their way down the alley. Standing out in the middle of the harbor was the Mirdan-ite ship the innkeeper had told them about. A longboat was moored at the second pier, with the crew and its officer waiting nearby, watchful. Haynes quickened his pace and went ahead to speak with the officer, while Gawl and Quinn pretended to look in the window of a leather shop. After a minute Haynes motioned to them, and they began walking. They had only gone a few steps, however, when someone called out, "Halt, citizens."
Gawl turned to see two men wearing blue and white cloaks. Both were armed and wore the insignia of the Archbishop on the left shoulder of their vests.
Quinn went to speak with them. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked.
"You are not from this town, are you?" one of soldiers asked.
"No," Quinn replied, "I am here visiting with my companion. And who might you be?"
"I'm Sergeant Jacks of his eminence's guard, and this is Corporal Cray. Your passes, please." "Passes?"
"It's required that all foreigners traveling within the country carry a pass signed by either the council, the Archbishop, or with the seal of Tenley Palace. The same applies to citizens who are visiting other provinces."
Colonel Haynes started back toward them, but a shake of Gawl's head stopped him.
"I was unaware of such a law," Quinn said. "My friend and I are from Elgaria."
"Is that right?" Sergeant Jacks asked, addressing Gawl. "My companion cannot speak," Quinn explained. "He's deaf and dumb—an unfortunate accident at birth." The sergeant shook his head. "Sad," he said. "The law is still relatively new. Normally, you could be arrested for traveling without passes. You and your large friend will need to present yourselves at the church up on the hill and make an application. I'd take you there myself, but we're late for an appointment. Ask for Lieutenant Fredricks and tell him I sent you. If you'll bring the passes back to me, I'll countersign 'em for you."
"You may have to bring two for your friend," his companion joked, looking up at Gawl. He was met with a baleful stare and turned back to Quinn. "How are things in your homeland? We've only heard rumors about what's happening there, but they sounded bad."
Quinn shrugged.."It gets worse by the day. We're on our way to Mirdan. Prince James is building a cathedral in Stermark and needs craftsmen. My brother-in-law sent word to me last week."
"Ah, is that what you do?" the sergeant asked. Quinn saw the men glance at his hands and nodded. "I work in stained glass, and Jonah here is a stonemason." "Is the pay any good?" the corporal asked him. Quinn turned his palms up. "Work is work." "We'll be at the Falcon's Nest," the sergeant said. "It's that stone building at the end of the next block. The whole business shouldn't take long. You can pick up your swords when you return."
"Excuse me?"
The sergeant took a deep breath and held out his hand. "I don't make the rules, friend." He motioned for their swords with his fingers. "The lieutenant will give you a permit with no problem, but it'll cost you a half-crown each."
"A man needs a permit to carry a sword in this country?" Quinn asked, taken aback.
"Like I said, I don't make the rules, but you being foreigners and all, I can see as how you might not be up on our local customs. That's why I'm not arresting you. And since you're leaving anyway, it would just be more paperwork for me. Just get your passes and bring them back, then you can be on your way."
The sergeant continued to hold his hand out to Quinn while his companion took a hesitant step toward Gawl and pointed at his sword. The feral smile that slowly spread across Gawl's face stopped him in his tracks. He looked up at the king's bearded face and gave a nervous swallow.
"Uh... could you ask your friend to give me his sword, please?"
Quinn sighed and tapped Gawl on the chest to get his attention, enunciating his words loudly. "This gentleman," he said, gesturing to the corporal, "would like your sword, Jonah."
The corporal nodded in agreement and supplemented it with a friendly smile.
"Over my dead body," Gawl rumbled.
Quinn rolled his eyes to heaven and put a hand over his face.
The sergeant's mouth dropped open. "I thought you said he couldn't—"
The man never got a chance to finish his sentence. A crashing blow from the bottom of Gawl's fist buckled his knees, knocking him unconscious. His companion, slower to react, found himself lifted off the ground by the front of his vest, his face suddenly inches from Gawl's.
"A word of advice, citizen. When you see that lying, backstabbing maggot you call the Archbishop, tell him that I'm coming for him."
With one heave, Gawl tossed the corporal over the edge of the quay and into the harbor. He hit the water with a loud splash.
Quinn walked to the edge, looked down, and turned back to Gawl. "Subtle," he said.
15
Outside Gravenhage
The North Road looked the same as Mathew re-membered it. Much of it passed through Elgaria's dense forests and small towns. As a boy, he'd made the trip a number of times while visiting Anderon with his family. Eventually, the road would take them to Gravenhage, where they would stop for the night before heading on to Devondale. It would have been possible to skirt it, but for Mathew the pull of home was just too great.
Delain had provided them with horses, money, and provisions, along with the information his spy had sent back about where the ring was kept. They bade the king goodbye and agreed to meet in the town of Mechlen in a month's time. By then Mathew knew he would either have his ring or he wouldn't. Either way, the war for Elgaria's independence was coming.
A light rain was falling by the time Gravenhage came into view. Mathew had always thought of it as a city. Though nowhere near as big as Anderon, it was many times larger than Devondale, with its own stadium and the largest watchtower in the province. Now, seeing the skyline, he frowned. In the years since he had left Elgaria, he'd visited places like. Tyraine, Barcora, and Senecal. Gravenhage seemed small in comparison.
"Everything is large in the eyes of a child," Father Thomas said, reading his thoughts.
Mathew nodded absently. "I wonder if Jerr
el Rozon still lives here."
"Delain told me that Jerrel was killed two years ago at the battle of Broken Hill."
Mathew shook his head sadly. "I liked him. He was a good man."
"And a good general," Father Thomas added. "I was shocked to hear of his passing. Jerrel led Elgaria's last cavalry charge against the Vargothans. It's a terrible . .."
Mathew looked at the priest when his words trailed away. "What is it?"
"You've just reminded me of something. Jerrel taught fencing to the young men of this town, as I did in Devon-dale. If any of them recognize you . . ."
"I see what you mean. Perhaps it would be best if we continue on to Devondale and—"
Mathew stopped talking as a Vargothan patrol emerged around a bend in the road a hundred yards from them. There were seven soldiers, and they carried a man on a litter. The leader raised bis hand, then pointed at Mathew and Father Thomas. "Father—"
"I see them, Mathew. And they have seen us. Do nothing until I tell you to. I et's go meet our new friends."
When they were within range, Father Thomas called out, "Good day to you. Is there a problem?"
The leader studied them for a few seconds and nudged his horse forward. "Good day, yourself. One of our men was gored by a boar last night. We're taking him to Gravenhage—there's supposed to be a doctor there. And who might you be?"
"I'm Father Laurent Silver and this is William d'Arp, a young man on his way to Palandol in Vargoth. We met a while back and have been traveling together." "You're not dressed like a priest." Father Thomas smiled. "It doesn't do to travel in one's robes, my son."
The soldier thought about it for a second and nodded. "I guess that makes sense. Where are you bound, Father?"
"I'm on my way to take up a post in a small town called Devondale. Can you tell me if this road will take me there, Sergeant?"
"It's Corporal, and Devondale's about a half-day ride from here. I hope you brought some books to read because it's in the middle of nowhere."
"All the more need for a priest, then. I'm told they have a lovely church. Perhaps you've seen it?"
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0) Page 11
