by A. J. Lake
‘You expect us to stay here?’ Elspeth demanded.
‘You’re going openly on the road?’ asked Edmund.
Cluaran did not answer either of them. Instead, he turned his mount and trotted a short distance along the hillside. As Elspeth and Edmund followed, more of the road came into view below them. Elspeth saw where it crossed another, smaller track. The minstrel gestured down towards the crossroads, to a tall wooden structure with something dangling from it.
It was a gibbet. Elspeth swallowed hard as she saw what looked like a bundle of rags swinging gently from the rope. There were executions at home in Dubris, of course, but her father had not been a man to take his child to a hanging. Elspeth crossed herself and murmured a prayer for the hanged man’s soul. Beside her, Edmund was very still.
‘That’s why I’m taking the road,’ Cluaran said over his shoulder. ‘The Guardians make sure there are plenty of hangings here as warnings to folk tempted to stray from the patrolled paths. Any traveller who does not keep to the road is likely to be taken and hanged as a thief – particularly if he’s armed.’
‘Is there something terrible in the woods, away from the paths?’ Elspeth asked, feeling a tremor of fear.
Cluaran looked at her strangely. ‘No. But it suits the Guardians to keep the townspeople afraid. And the corpses of strangers make useful threats.’
They rode downhill in silence. The little patch of green that they had seen from above was little more than a clearing in the forest, an untended stretch of tall grass and scraggly weeds.
‘This is the last common ground before Venta,’ Cluaran told them. ‘Stay near the trees, and if you hear riders, leave the horses and hide.’ He dismounted with a leap. ‘If anyone else comes by, tell them you’re minding your master’s beasts to save him stable charges.’ He smiled thinly. ‘The townsfolk will believe that.’
‘Why do you have to go to Venta, anyway?’ Elspeth challenged. The minstrel walked on as if he had not heard her. ‘And why can’t we come with you?’ she shouted after him. ‘We can take care of ourselves!’
Cluaran turned to look at her. ‘You’d bring the Guardians down on our heads within a quarter-day,’ he snapped. ‘There is something I must find in Venta, and I’ll not have you distracting me with your near escapes. You know full well that you have what Orgrim wants more than anything else.’ He nodded at Elspeth’s hand, but she was so stunned by his direct reference to the sword that she did not reply. ‘Wait here until I come for you,’ he said, and he vanished among the trees.
Elspeth started after him. The wood here was only a few yards deep. She came out of the trees to see the minstrel striding over scrubby grassland to the road. He did not seem to be hurrying, but Elspeth could not catch up with him. She stared after him crossly.
A hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her back into the shelter of the trees. ‘What are you doing?’ Edmund demanded. ‘Didn’t you hear what he said?’
‘I don’t care,’ Elspeth said. ‘He’s no right to leave us behind like … like baggage! What is this thing that he has to find? Why can’t he tell us? Doesn’t he trust us?’ She kicked angrily at a stone, sending it spinning across the brittle turf. ‘Not that I trust him either, for that matter! Always sloping off at night, acting like we’re no better able to take care of ourselves than babes. It’s not fair!’
‘Let him be,’ Edmund said. ‘You’re right, Elspeth. He treats us like servants, or naughty children. We can take our horses and go east without him, around the town. But don’t follow him. It could be dangerous.’ His voice grew harder, more urgent, and Elspeth looked at him in astonishment. He seemed to hesitate, then went on in a rush. ‘I had a dream two nights ago. I didn’t know where I was – but someone had hold of you, someone evil, and he was hurting you. I’m afraid that if we go into Venta, it will come true.’ He went on, not meeting her gaze: ‘I know it sounds foolish. But I said nothing when I had a vision of the soldiers attacking Medwel, and it turned out to be much more than a dream. I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.’
‘I don’t think you’re foolish,’ Elspeth said carefully. She didn’t doubt Edmund – or, at least, she didn’t doubt that he genuinely believed she was in danger – but she still burned with curiosity to know what Cluaran was doing, and that more than any fear for her own safety made her desperate to go into town. ‘But how do you know the bad thing won’t happen if we stay here?’ she went on persuasively.
‘I suppose you could be right,’ he said at last. ‘We’ll go in together – as long as we’re careful.’
‘I’ll creep like a mouse,’ she promised, and ran back through the trees to check the horses were tethered.
When they first emerged from the trees they felt horribly exposed. But as they started to follow the road towards the town, they felt more at ease. At the crossroads Elspeth quickened her pace. The gibbet with its grisly load creaked above them and she could not resist a glance upwards, wondering what the poor man had done to draw down the wrath of the Guardians … or was it a woman? It was no longer possible to tell.
‘What will we tell the guards, if we meet any?’ Edmund asked her quietly.
‘What Cluaran told us,’ she replied. ‘We’re servants, left behind by our master. Too poor for anyone to bother with.’
The walls of Venta Bulgarum were made of huge wooden stakes, sharpened to points. The massive gate was closed and barred with iron, and the men standing with spears by the wooden guardhouse were as unwelcoming as the gate they guarded.
‘Halt!’ one of them snapped as Elspeth and Edmund approached. ‘What’s your business?’
‘Our master left us to take care of his horses,’ Elspeth explained, putting a whine into her voice. ‘But he gave us no food, and we’re hungry!’
The man gave a bark of laughter. ‘He should have known better than to trust a pair of idle young louts!’ he snorted. ‘And you think you’ll get a meal by following him, not a whipping? Your master’s horses are worth more to him than you are, I’ll wager!’
He opened a small wicket in the fortified gate and let them through. ‘If you want to get yourselves beaten, I’ll not stop you,’ he said as they hastened inside. ‘But you’d better find him before curfew.’
The houses came right up to the walls of the town, the road branching between them. The outermost buildings were small and poor, with wattle-and-daub walls, crammed together and linked by a spider’s web of paths. Elspeth and Edmund took the road that seemed widest and straightest, and soon came among larger houses, with vegetable patches and fire pits outside. Elspeth could hear chickens clucking from outhouses, and she saw an old woman milking a goat, but there were few people about. Cooking smells filled the air, and she could hear voices from several of the window slits. She guessed most of the town were at supper. Beside her Edmund was looking around warily, but now that she was here Elspeth felt an overflowing confidence, as if nothing could hurt her. It was the way she had felt when she had used the crystal sword at Glastening, and at Oferstow, when it had flashed into brilliance almost before she had called it, had seemed to answer her …
‘Well, we’re here,’ Edmund said. ‘We’ll find Cluaran and see what he’s doing – though I’d rather he didn’t see us.’
‘He’d only look at us down that long nose of his,’ Elspeth agreed.
‘And tell us again how important his business is, and how we hinder him,’ Edmund added. He laughed briefly, then his face was sombre again. ‘Even so, we don’t want to be recognised,’ he said.
His seriousness sobered Elspeth at once. ‘I’m not planning to do anything stupid,’ she tried to reassure him. ‘If there’s any chance of meeting the Guardians, we’ll hide.’
As if to challenge her words, there was a clatter of hoofs behind them.
Edmund grabbed her hand and drew her into a cluster of houses. They slipped around the corner of the nearest building – a rich-looking home, with stout wooden walls and good-smelling cooking steam rising fro
m the smoke hole. They crept along its walls away from the road as the sound of the riders drew nearer, then rattled away. The sun was low in the sky, and in the shadow of the houses it was almost dark. They skirted vegetable patches and middens, meeting no one except a couple of girls drawing water at a well. The girls glanced at them curiously as they passed.
A bell tolled from somewhere ahead of them and the girls hastily wound up their bucket and hurried inside.
‘That must be the curfew bell,’ Edmund said. He stood still for a moment. ‘I’ve been trying to look through Cluaran’s eyes, but I can’t find him. Where do you think he’s likely to be?’
Elspeth looked up, over the roofs that surrounded them. Ahead, dark against the pale sky, were taller houses, and a tower that looked like stone.
‘That way, I think,’ she said. ‘Whatever business he has here, it’s likely to be in the centre of town.’
A narrow street led them to a broad square space lined with buildings much bigger than the outlying houses, and all of them built in stone. The tower that Elspeth had seen belonged to a church, larger and finer than the one they had seen in Glastening, but it was not the finest building in the square. The Romans had built here, and their work could be seen in the stone buildings on two sides of the square; they stood lower than the church, but were pillared and carved with a magnificence that dazzled Elspeth’s eyes.
On the third side was a house of wooden beams, longer and wider than any home she had seen before; like a king’s hall, she thought, as she crouched with Edmund behind a marble column. And only then did she see the men standing guard, their faces and dark clothes in shadow; the silver bosses on their shields reflecting the rays of the sinking sun.
The last few people abroad were moving purposefully out of the square: two women with baskets; an old man driving his goat; a little boy with a scrawny brown dog running at his heels. All of them were keeping to the edge of the square, giving the Guardians wide berth, and all were hurrying. Then Edmund caught Elspeth’s arm and pointed. At the far end of the square, drawn back into a doorway, stood Cluaran.
The minstrel was gazing in the direction of the great hall. Elspeth wondered how long he had been there; he seemed as still as the stone itself. Then a movement in the corner of the square drew her eye. There was a clatter of hoofs and two Guardians rode up to the hall, carrying burning torches. Beside her, Edmund stiffened as if braced for flight – but the men only rode along the long building to place torches in the iron brackets at each end and on either side of the great door.
Then one of the riders saw the old man with the goat. He had almost reached the far end of the square, beating the reluctant animal with a switch to make it move faster. One of the horsemen called to the other, who chuckled. Then both spurred their horses up to the goatherd.
‘You’re out after curfew, old man!’ one of them called. ‘Will you pay the penalty now, or spend the night in the stocks?’
The old man stammered something that Elspeth could not hear. The second horseman laughed. ‘No money?’ he crowed. ‘What need of that, when you have this fine beast?’ Still laughing, he leaned down to grab the rope around the goat’s neck.
The two Guardians outside the hall had strolled over to watch. The old man started whimpering, his arms around the goat’s neck as he pleaded with his tormentors. Glancing at the marble doorway, Elspeth saw that Cluaran was no longer there.
He was running towards the hall, swiftly but keeping to the cover of the stone columns. None of the Guardians had noticed anything; they were gathered around the old goatherd, the two on foot grabbing his arms. He let go of the goat, which gave a bleat of terror and bolted, nearly dragging its captor from his horse. Cursing, the rider dropped the rope and called his companion to join the chase.
The goat’s mad rush took it into Cluaran’s path. Seeing someone there, it bleated loudly and veered away. The Guardian holding the old man released him and he ran after his goat. Then the four Guardians, no longer laughing, advanced on Cluaran.
‘What’s this?’ asked one of the horsemen, while the other spurred his horse to the end of the colonnade to cut off any retreat.
Cluaran stood where he was and waited for the Guardians to encircle him. He held his harp in one hand, as if he was about to play a tune. Something in his profile looked faintly amused as he lounged against a stone pillar.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.
The rider barked an order to the men on foot, who ran up to seize Cluaran’s arms. ‘You’re a stranger here,’ the horseman said harshly. ‘Skulking in the streets after curfew – and armed. You’re a danger to the king.’
‘You mean my bow and skinning knife?’ Cluaran said in mild surprise. ‘I’m a minstrel, masters! I travel far to carry out my trade and must eat on the way. Look.’ Elspeth did not see how he managed it, but in one fleet movement Cluaran stepped away from the two pairs of hands holding him, and raised the harp. ‘I’m sorely grieved to have given alarm to the town’s brave defenders,’ he said. ‘Let me give you a song.’
He swept his hand over the strings. As the first notes echoed around the square, the two foot soldiers let their hands fall and stepped away from the minstrel, shuffling back dream-like until they were standing beside the pillars.
The horseman lunged forward and dashed the harp out of Cluaran’s hands. It struck the stones with a discordant jangle, shockingly loud in the quiet square.
‘Hold him, you witless oafs!’ he roared. The two men blinked and jerked forward to seize the minstrel again. ‘I’ve heard enough from him,’ the Guardian snarled. ‘He’s a vagrant and a troublemaker.’
‘Should we take him to Captain Cathbar, sir?’ asked one of the foot soldiers.
‘That old fool!’ sneered the horseman. He bent down from the saddle and lowered his voice. ‘Listen, oaf. You don’t have anything to do with Cathbar, right? Don’t give him your prisoners; don’t ask his help. Lord Orgrim doesn’t like the man, understand?’
The foot soldier nodded frantically.
‘So,’ the Guardian went on thoughtfully, ‘we can’t take him to Cathbar – and there’s no point bringing a beggar like this before his lordship. We’ll just string him up right now.’ He reached behind him and produced a coil of rope from his saddlebag.
Time seemed to stop. Without any sensible thought, Elspeth found the crystal sword blazing in her hand. It sent a shock of pain up her arm, jolting her forward. Edmund cried out and tried to hold her back, but she was already running across the square.
I didn’t summon it, she thought as she ran. Did I?
The faces of Cluaran and the Guardians were white blurs in front of her. She lunged first at one Guardian; then the other. Both sprang back, fumbling for their own swords. She thought one of them was wounded, but a moment later both men came at her. She swung at the nearest attacker, clumsily – then the crystal blade seemed to twist in her hand, blocking the second sword as it snaked in from the side. But the first man had already recovered – he was coming at her again. The crystal sword was whipping towards him, but her hand was slow behind it and her body too heavy to dodge.
There was a sharp thwack and the first man fell back, a feathered shaft protruding from his shoulder. The second attacker was backing away too, his eyes wide as he looked past Elspeth to the other end of the square, where she had left Edmund. Edmund with his bow and quiver of arrows, which he had brought into the town beneath his tunic.
Behind the two foot soldiers, Cluaran had caught up his harp and was running back down the colonnade towards the arch of the door. He leaped, caught hold of the great stone lintel and pulled himself lightly up. The next time she looked, he was taking aim with his own bow. She gripped the sword more tightly, hearing its voice shriek within her: I am yours, Elspeth! I will fight for you!
But her surge of confidence was short-lived. Next she heard Edmund’s voice, shrill with panic.
‘Elspeth! The horseman – behind you …’
Then something
cracked into the side of her head and she found herself spreadeagled on the stone paving, her arms held on each side. She could hear Edmund’s cries as he fought behind her, but they were fading. Through the red mist that filled her eyes she saw Cluaran leap upwards again, on to the roof of the massive stone building; he threw a last agonised glance at Elspeth – no, not at her but at the sword – then disappeared.
And just before the world went dark she saw, against the twilit sky, a great black bird hovering above her. Its single harsh cry sounded like laughter.
Chapter Seventeen
They had been tied together back-to-back, so Edmund had no way of knowing how badly Elspeth had been hurt. He knew she was alive because he could hear her breathing. She was slumped against him, her chains digging into his back. The sword had vanished like a blown-out candle after the horseman knocked her down. Nevertheless, the Guardians had seen it clearly. They had muttered together, looking over their shoulders at the hall, and sent a servant for chains and manacles before they would approach her. Edmund, his arrows spent and with no other weapon but his fists, had only merited ropes.
He had fought them anyway, determined not to be taken anywhere without Elspeth. But as he struggled, he had felt a small, searching pressure in his head, faint but horribly familiar. He shut his eyes to push it aside, close up the smoky gap in his mind – and by the time it was gone, his captors had him securely tied. It was only then that he heard the harsh cry and looked up to see Lord Orgrim’s great black bird hovering over them.
Now, sitting in the dark on the packed-earth floor of the prison hut, Edmund wondered wretchedly what was the use of having a crystal sword and the gift of Ripente if they could still be trussed up like pheasants.
A commotion sounded outside: loud voices and heavy, hurrying feet. Edmund tensed, willing Elspeth to wake up as the footsteps approached. Then he realised that the voices were quarrelling.
