The pupils stared at the Sikh with open mouths. Not a single one of them moved or looked away even for a second. Most of the lads had only occasionally seen Indians, and even then only at a distance. Some had never seen an Indian at all. With his brilliant orange tunic and turban, dark skin, loose trousers and knee-high boots, Kanvar was like some exotic bird that had appeared out of legend.
‘You should learn this first out of all the war yantras,’ Kanvar continued. ‘The design is less complex than the others and the operation is simpler. Once you have mastered this, you will be ready to move on to the others.’
Kanvar stepped back from the banner.
‘You heard him.’ Mark raised his cane. ‘Get learning it.’
The lads all sat perfectly still and stared at the banner, concentrating harder than they ever had before. Not only would they be in awe of Kanvar, they would also be tantalised by the prospect of learning a yantra they could fight with. After all, that was why Jack was training them – to fight the Rajthanans.
Kanvar, Jack and Mark stood to one side, watching.
‘Lightning,’ Mark said. ‘We never knew the proper names.’
‘No,’ Kanvar said. ‘I understand the Rajthanans don’t teach them.’
‘The Rajthanans don’t teach Europeans anything other than the native siddha yantra.’ Jack pointed at the native yantra drawn on a large sheet of paper lying nearby.
‘Ah, yes,’ Kanvar said. ‘They call it simply “Europa”. A unique yantra, in that none have been able to use it, save for Europeans.’
‘And why is that?’ Jack asked.
‘No one knows for sure. It seems somehow particular to these lands.’ Kanvar glanced at Jack and smiled. ‘In India we like to think we know everything there is to know about yantras and sattva. But once you start travelling you realise there is much more to learn.’
Jack found it strange to hear an Indian say something like that. His Rajthanan officers had always seemed so full of knowledge, so sure of their understanding of the world. ‘The Rajthanans told me Europeans couldn’t learn anything other than the Europa.’
‘That is not true. Europeans can learn any yantra. You have demonstrated that yourself.’
‘Yes.’ Jack rubbed his chin. ‘That’s as I thought. So, is there something wrong with the way I’ve been teaching this lot, then?’ He motioned to his acolytes. ‘Hardly any of them manage it.’
‘I think not. There is no secret to the teaching. It takes a long time to learn a yantra and many don’t succeed, even if they are sensitive to sattva. This is true of Indians just as much as Europeans.’
They were interrupted by a young boy from the village who appeared at the door and said to Jack, ‘Sir, the men from Newcastle are here again.’
‘The Constable?’ Jack asked.
‘Yes, sir.’
Jack balled one hand into a fist. So, Henry and his men had come back for the so-called witch. That hadn’t taken long. Perhaps Henry had heard Jack was ill and thought to take advantage of the situation.
Jack turned to his acolytes. ‘Come on, you lot.’
They all marched across the village green, Jack and Mark in front, with Kanvar and the apprentices following in a phalanx. Other villagers were assembling on the outskirts of Folly Brook, near the road to Newcastle.
Jack strode into the group. ‘What’s going on?’
Tom pointed up the road and Jack made out a man on horseback. The rider was definitely Henry – Jack could see the large man’s black, fur-trimmed cloak and white crusader surcoat. But there was no sign of Henry’s henchmen.
Strange. Was it some kind of trick?
Jack had no weapons on him and there was no time now to return to his hut to fetch any.
He heard the hiss of a sword being unsheathed.
Godwin stepped up beside him and held out his longsword. ‘Sir, take my blade.’
Jack frowned. He was actually grateful for the gesture at that moment. But he decided against taking the sword. Henry had come alone, so it was only right to see what he had to say for himself first.
Henry dismounted, tethered his horse to a tree and swaggered across the grass. His arming-sword swayed at his hip and an ornate pistol glinted in his belt.
‘I’ve told you before,’ Jack said. ‘The woman stays here.’
Henry raised his hand. ‘Calm down. I haven’t come for the girl.’ He stopped suddenly, stared at Kanvar and narrowed his eyes. ‘A Rajthanan. So, you truly are a traitor.’
‘He’s not a Rajthanan,’ Jack said. ‘He’s a Sikh.’
‘They’re all the same. He’ll kill you in your sleep if you keep him here, mark my words.’
‘He’s a friend. And he’s been here three days so far and we’re still alive.’
Henry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes darted about the crowd of villagers. Eventually, he snorted and shook his head. ‘You’re a strange one, Jack Casey. And you seem to have all these good people bewitched.’
‘They accept me as their reeve of their own free will.’
‘Aye, that’s your story.’ Henry paused for a moment, eyes shifting as if he were weighing up his options. ‘Very well. If you say the Sikh’s a friend I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t come here to argue, in any case. I need to speak to you. In private.’
Jack stood a little straighter. This was a surprise. ‘What about?’
‘It’s a delicate matter.’ Henry rubbed his mouth. ‘I need your help with something.’
Jack couldn’t help grinning at the thought of Henry needing his help. He turned to the small gathering and nodded to dismiss them. Godwin and Elizabeth stayed behind until he waved them off.
‘Over here.’ Jack gestured to the row of willows beside the brook. There was less chance of them being overheard there.
They walked down the slight incline and reached the bank of the stream. Henry stared at the water for a moment, then squinted at the sky. It was a clear day but a chill hung in the air.
‘What’s all this about?’ Jack asked.
Henry gave a deep sigh. ‘Wish I knew myself, to be honest. Sir Alfred asked me to come. We’ve been getting some strange reports out of Scotland.’
‘Scotland?’
‘Yes. We have spies, informers, you know. The Crusader Council has to keep an eye on what the Rajthanans are up to.’
‘That’s wise enough.’
‘Aye, well, some of these spies say the Rajthanans are getting worked up over something in Scotland. There’s a Rajthanan sorcerer called Mahajan who’s set up some sort of kingdom in the wilds. From what we hear, he’s broken away from the Rajthanans – become a sort of Scottish chief, they say.’
‘A strange thought.’
‘Indeed.’
‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘Well, this is the thing, from what we can gather, the Rajthanans believe this Mahajan is working on some sort of powerful black magic. He’s hidden away in a place where no one goes, you see, and he’s up to something. The Rajthanans are worried about it for some reason.’
‘Any idea what this magic is?’
‘No one knows for sure. Some think it’s a weapon of some kind. We’ve heard tales of demons rising up from hell and all sorts.’
‘Sounds a little hard to believe.’
Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you of all people would believe it.’
Jack smiled. ‘Because I study yoga?’
Henry grunted and kicked a stone into the water. ‘You call it what you like.’
Jack stared past the brook and up the slope of the forest-shrouded hill. The greenery was dusted with red and yellow leaves. On the bare summit, an old stone cross watched the valley like a sentinel. ‘It’s not like you think. Yoga’s not about demons.’
‘If you say so. You know more about it than anyone else around here.’
‘What is it you want from me? I can’t tell you anything about this Mahajan. I’ve never heard of him.’
/> ‘No, it’s not that. You see . . .’ Henry tightened his lips and tapped his boot against a tree root. ‘There are some on the Council who wonder about the Grail. Some stories say the Grail was found in the north.’
Jack snorted. ‘The Grail’s just a legend.’
Henry scowled. ‘That’s not what the Church says. The Grail came to us in the past to free our lands from enchantment. If we can find it now, then we can use it to throw the heathens out of England.’
Jack shook his head. ‘They were saying that in London too, you know. Before the Rajthanans took the city.’
Henry looked at Jack, narrowing his eyes. ‘You call yourself an Englishman, but you forsake all our customs. What are you really? An Indian? A half-caste?’
Jack tensed and felt his face flush. ‘I’m an Englishman just as much as you.’
‘So you keep saying.’
Jack took a deep breath and calmed himself. There was no point getting into a fight over this. ‘What is it you want?’
Henry scratched his beard. ‘There are some on the Council who wonder if Mahajan hasn’t found the Grail. If we go to Mahajan’s kingdom, perhaps we could get it for ourselves.’
‘I see.’
‘If we don’t try, there’s a risk the Rajthanans could lay their hands on it instead.’
‘I thought only the pure of heart could ever touch the Grail. That’s what the stories say, isn’t it?’
Henry muttered something, then said, ‘I don’t pretend to know about these matters. I’m a fighting man, not a sorcerer. All I know is that if this Mahajan has the Grail, we need to get it from him. It’s our only hope to save our lands and free King John. The Rajthanans are strong, far stronger than us. You know that. But with the Grail, we could win.’
A cold wind ruffled Jack’s hair and tugged at his ponytail. The trees on the hillside swayed. ‘I still don’t see what I have to do with all of this.’
Henry hawked and spat at the ground. ‘The Rajthanans are planning an expedition into Scotland to find Mahajan’s kingdom. You see, they’re taking this matter seriously. We’ve decided to send a small party to infiltrate the expedition. The Rajthanans will need guides and porters and cooks. If we can get some men in there, then, when they get to Mahajan’s lands, hopefully they can take the Grail – or find out what Mahajan is up to, at any rate.’
‘How many men are you sending?’
‘We can only spare a few. Ten or so.’
‘How big is the Rajthanan party?’
‘We don’t know that yet. The Rajthanans are still planning themselves. Some say a few hundred soldiers might be sent.’
‘Ten against a few hundred. Not good odds.’
‘The plan isn’t to fight the Rajthanans. We’ll travel with them, that’s all. Scotland’s too wild for us to send a small party. We’ll find safety in numbers. When we get to Mahajan’s kingdom . . . then our men will have to do their best.’
‘Sounds risky. You expecting any of those men to come back?’
‘Our whole life here in Shropshire is risky. Vadula’s army could come at any time. You heard about Wiltshire?’
Jack nodded. Everyone had heard the Rajthanans had taken the rebel enclave and stories of massacres were circulating. He felt a chill as he remembered the Siege of London and the many men who’d died there.
Henry paused for a moment, then said, ‘So, how about it, then?’
‘How about what?’
‘The mission to Scotland. We want you to lead it, of course.’
‘Me?’
Henry grimaced and stared at the water. ‘It wasn’t my idea. Sir Alfred insisted.’
‘Why?’
‘Like I said, you know about black magic. No one else around here does.’
‘You want me to go looking for something I don’t believe in?’
Henry’s face reddened. ‘You may not believe in it, but others do. Why else would the Rajthanans march into Scotland? Why would they bother?’
That was a good point. The Rajthanans would only send a force into the wilds if they had a reason. There had to be something behind the stories about Mahajan, even if it wasn’t the Grail.
But all the same, why should Jack get involved? After William had died, he’d promised before God to keep up the fight against the Rajthanans, and he’d done that. He’d spent the past year training siddhas to the best of his ability. He’d done what he could to support the crusade. He didn’t have to do more, especially now that he would be dead within two months.
‘You really think the Grail’s up there in Scotland?’ Jack asked.
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Henry looked down. ‘It’s worth a try. The omens are good. A white hart’s been seen in the hills. You heard that?’
Jack hadn’t heard, but then he had little time for his countrymen’s superstitions. ‘You take that as a sign the mission will succeed?’
‘Some say that.’ Henry gazed up the hill, as if searching for the creature amongst the trees. ‘A white hart is rare. It must mean something that one has come now.’
‘Look, Henry, I appreciate this offer. Tell Sir Alfred I’m honoured. But I can’t go. I have my work here. That’s how I can best serve the crusade.’
‘Sir Alfred will be disappointed.’
‘He’ll understand.’
‘You afraid? Is that it?’
‘You won’t convince me like that.’
Henry’s face twisted. ‘You’re a traitor after all. I knew it.’
‘If you wish.’
‘You don’t want us to find the Grail.’ Henry’s eyes glinted as he pointed his finger at Jack’s chest. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You want us to fail. I see right through you, Casey. You should go back with your Indian friend.’ He waved his finger in the direction of the village. ‘Go back to the Rajthanans. You’re their servant, after all. They’ve warped your mind.’ He tapped his finger against his temple.
Jack held up his hand. ‘Henry—’
‘Sir Alfred won’t be happy when I tell him about this. You can be sure of that.’ Henry’s lips sprayed spittle. ‘You’ll be out of here in no time. And you can take your little sorcerers and devils and witches with you.’ He pushed back his cloak and flexed his fingers around the handle of his pistol. ‘I ought to shoot you now and be done with it.’
Jack tightened his hands into fists. He wasn’t carrying a weapon and there was no one nearby who could help. He could probably jump at Henry and knock him back before he had a chance to get out his firearm.
Probably.
His heart spiked. Should he do it? Now?
Henry was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring. His fingers clasped the pistol . . . and then released it again. He pushed up his bottom lip so that his chin puckered. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this.’
He turned and marched back towards his horse, his arms swishing to either side of his huge frame and his cloak swirling behind him.
Jack breathed out. It was hard to know how far Henry would take things. He and Jack had been having these confrontations for the past year, with Henry regularly threatening violence, but so far it had always come to nothing. Henry had a short temper, though, and there was no knowing what he might do if he were pushed too far.
Jack strolled back through the willow trees, up the slope and on towards the village. Henry’s story was a strange one. A Rajthanan called Mahajan becoming a Scottish chieftain. The Holy Grail. Demons. What to make of it all?
It was best for him to just put it out of his mind. There was little he could do to help. He would soon be dead – and he was no expert in sattva or powers or the Grail. He was just an ordinary siddha.
Or was he?
Kanvar had said he had a special ability. And Kanvar knew more about these things than Jack.
Elizabeth, Godwin and Kanvar stood waiting for him at the edge of the village.
‘What did he want?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Nothing.’ Jack patted her on the shoulder. ‘Just the usual complaints.�
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‘Why did he want to talk in private, then?’ she said.
Jack shrugged. ‘Forget about him. Come on, let’s get back.’
Kanvar’s horse stood on the edge of Folly Brook, snorting and gouging out chunks of earth with its hooves. The villagers gathered twenty feet away and stared at the impressive, pure-white charger. Many of them had come out simply to marvel at the animal’s gleaming coat, straight back and well-formed legs.
Kanvar held the bridle and patted the horse on the neck.
‘You really have to go?’ Jack asked as he stood beside the Sikh.
‘Yes, I must speak to my commander. I have already been here too long.’
‘Will you be safe travelling through Shropshire? People will think you’re a Rajthanan.’
‘I made it here safely, didn’t I?’
‘Yes. How did you do that?’
Kanvar smiled. ‘I have my ways.’
‘When will you be back?’
‘As soon as I can. Within a month. I will teach your pupils more yantras then.’
‘A month. Suppose I’ll still be here.’
Kanvar patted Jack’s arm. ‘I am certain you will be. Keep trying Great Health.’
‘I will. I don’t hold out much hope, though.’
Elizabeth called out as she jogged over from the village, waving her arm.
‘You must tell her,’ Kanvar said.
‘I will.’
‘You only have two months—’
‘I said, I’ll tell her.’
Elizabeth ran up to them and threw her arms around Kanvar, almost knocking him over. ‘Thank you. Thank you.’
Kanvar, a little startled, took a step back and Elizabeth released him.
‘And you’ll come back, won’t you?’ Elizabeth asked.
Kanvar bowed his head slightly. ‘Soon. But now I must go.’ He looked past Jack and Elizabeth and waved at the onlookers. Then he swung into the saddle, gave Jack a final parting nod and nudged his horse into a trot. He bobbed away along the track, his bright orange turban shining against the green and gold of the trees.
A cold wind plucked a handful of leaves from the ground and scattered them across the grass. Jack glanced at Elizabeth. Kanvar was right – he would have to tell her soon. But she wouldn’t take the news well.
The Place of Dead Kings Page 6
