Traitor Blade: (Books 1-3)

by Richard Crawford

  "There is, my lady." The Captain paused. "The family has suffered a loss. I would ask you to spare the time to speak with Mario, and perhaps his wife."

  "Of course, what has happened?"

  "You know their younger daughter Catherine. She is their second child. They have another daughter a few years older, named Rosalie. Through the mother's side, the family has always had some measure of the talent. It was strong in the eldest girl, and she had been trained to serve the Mysteries. She had left home to do so, traveling to serve villages in the great wood north of Chamfort."

  The Captain paused. Sophie was sitting close by. She put aside her sewing and turned to face him. Mariette felt a sudden chill of despair. She knew what must come, and why Stefan had brought this story to her. His gaze held hers as he resumed.

  "One of the villages the girl served was raided and destroyed a few days ago. The girl was brutally murdered, along with most of the villagers. A few survived to flee. The girl served the village well, and she was loved. Two of the women who survived came here to tell her family what happened."

  In the silence, the fire crackled and sparked.

  "How long ago?" she asked.

  "As best I can tell, it happened four days ago. Mario heard the news yesterday. The woman who came to tell them left this morning."

  "Where did the women go?"

  "North again, my lady. But it should be possible to find them, with Mario's help."

  Mariette stared at her Captain. She felt a bitter guilt as pity for Mario was overtaken by the chance they might learn something of the shadow knights. In the past, it had always proved impossible to trace the survivors of the knights' attacks. Even in the demesne of Montmercy, after Hugo's death, no one would come forward. The few, terrified survivors quickly disappeared to other villages. She had begun to believe that silence was part of the price they paid for shelter. Who would risk that evil descending on them again? But Stefan was right, it was possible that, through the debt of love and respect owed to Mario's daughter, this might be the chance to break that silence. At last, she looked to Stefan.

  "I would speak with them now. Will you bring them, please?"

  When he was gone, Sophie said quietly. "Four days ago."

  "I know," she said shortly. It coincided with the time Edouard was absent from Chamfort. The same time Remy ran away.

  "Will you send word to Mathieu?" Sophie asked.

  "Not yet." She rose and turned so Sophie could not see her face. "Will you set extra chairs please, Sophie?"

  She went to stand by the fire as Sophie set the room in order. Outside it was dark. The wind was rising, rattling the shutters, and she could hear it lashing the trees. At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, she turned and readied herself. There was a knock, and then Stefan led the couple in. Mario hesitated by the door, one big hand placed awkwardly on his wife's shoulder. The woman curtsied and then stared. It was a belligerent look, and her face was red and angry. Mariette did not know her well and had always suspected her to be a gossip and nag. She remembered she was called Alice.

  She went forward to greet them, leading the woman to one of the chairs Sophie had set ready around the fire. When they were settled, Sophie brought wine. Stefan remained, standing silently by the door. Mariette waited until she judged the couple were ready before she spoke.

  "I have heard of your loss, and I am so sorry. Perhaps you would tell me of it, and of anything I can do to help?"

  The woman, who had always been the one giving orders, seemed to find it hard to speak. She glanced to her husband and then sat in silence, her powerful arms resting in her lap. Mario cleared his throat.

  "What can I tell you, my lady?"

  "Tell me everything that you can."

  It took him a moment to think how to start, and then the words came in an awkward rush. "Our eldest daughter, Rosalie, had the sight and a gift for healing. Cat has it too, but with Rosa it was strong, and there was no question but that she must serve the Mysteries." The woman made a sound then, something between a gasp and a sob, and he took her hand. "It was hard to see her go, but you cannot deny the gift when it is that strong."

  Mariette understood that he spoke to reassure his wife. If the gift was strong in the woman's family, then the tradition of duty and service to the Mysteries would be ingrained. She would not have seen it as a choice.

  "Rosa went willingly," Mario said, still holding his wife's hand. "And she was happy. She gave the people she served her best and they knew it." His fingers tightened around his wife's. "Though she was only young, Rosa served three villages, deep in the forest north of Chamfort. Calmon was the smallest and poorest of them all." He took a breath. "Four days ago, armed knights came and burned the village and slaughtered the people. Less than a dozen survived. The women who came told us…" As he faltered his wife spoke, her voice harsh.

  "Tell them."

  "They told us that Rosa tried to help them. But when she was injured they sent her from the village so she would survive. They thought she would be safe; she was marked for the Mysteries and anyone seeing her would know. It should have protected her." For a moment he could not speak. "They found her in the woods. She was hurt before, but what had been done…" He stopped turning his face away, unable to continue. It was the woman who spoke.

  "One of the bastards followed her to the woods, and finding her injured and alone gave her a brutal death. The women who came told us. They were kind. They didn't want to give details, but we had to know. It would have been worse to always wonder." She looked up, her mouth trembling, caught between rage and sorrow.

  "I am so sorry," Mariette said. She understood the woman's grief, and knew words were useless, they meant nothing, changed nothing. "I wish I could change what happened, but I cannot." She watched the woman's face, knowing it was her she must win. "It is an evil tale. The burning of the village, the slaughter of its people and the murder of your daughter, a girl dedicated to the Mysteries. These acts should not be allowed to go unpunished. If you wish it, I will let undertake to see that those responsible are found and brought to justice, made to answer for their crimes."

  "Thank you, my lady," said the woman. Her voice was flat as if she thought the offer no more than politeness.

  Mariette had to convince her, now was not the time to falter. "But I will need your help." She paused, drawing their gaze, capturing their hope so easily. It was necessary but in some measure, she hated herself for it. "Would you know how to find these women?"

  "Yes, my lady." Mario hesitated. "But they were scared. I don't know if they will welcome questions from strangers. Even those who offer help."

  "I would not ask you to betray their confidence." She glanced to Stefan, and he came forward. "If Mario goes with my Captain, perhaps the witnesses will feel able to help. The two of you should not attract attention. You could say he is a member of your family." She gave them a moment, but no more. "Would you be willing to do this?"

  Mario nodded, his face wet with silent tears. It was the woman who answered, without a glance to her husband. "He would, and thank you, my lady." Her voice faltered, and she took a steadying breath. "I would see her avenged. There is no one else to help us."

  The words caught Mariette like a blow. How many others might make that claim? She rose. "We will do everything we can." The Captain came forward, ready to lead them from the room. "Stefan will make the arrangements with you. It would be best if you left soon, tomorrow if possible?"

  Mario had recovered now. With a glance to his wife, he found his voice and answered. "Tomorrow will be fine." He stood, and his wife stood beside him. "I am sorry to have distressed you, my lady. Your help means everything to us. Thank you." He bowed awkwardly and started for the door; after a moment, the woman followed. Mariette watched them leave, but already she was calculating how much time had passed and what they might hope to learn.

  She looked to Stefan. "Go to the village first, though the ruins are unlikely to tell us anything new. Then go on and spea
k to the survivors, find out everything you can about the men who did this, and why." He did not really need her instructions. "It may be the survivors remember something or someone. These people will be frightened, and you will have to reassure them that they will be safe. It may be best if they think you are a member of Mario's family, but…"

  "We may need to find them again, my lady?"

  "Yes. And we can offer the protection to any who seek it." She thought quickly. "If they have information that will help us, I would rather see them sent to Montmercy where they can be kept safe. I know it will not be easy, but do what you can. If they are scared, they will not talk, and they will disappear like the others. You must judge how best to handle this." She should be pleased, but instead this development brought a strange anxiety. "I will be at court. Come to me when it is done. If you need him, Mathieu is not far away. You know how to contact him."

  "Yes, my lady."

  She did not sleep that night, haunted by the innkeeper's story. The thought of his daughter murdered in the woods. The brutality of the story scared her and reminded her that so many lives were at stake. It made her think of Edouard.

  By morning, the Captain had made all the necessary arrangements. She saw him briefly before he left alongside Mario. With her escort, now under the command of Edwin, she left soon after, heading south towards Fourges and the King's court.

  ####

  It was midafternoon when the carriage crested the hill above the city and drew to a halt. Without waiting for assistance, Mariette climbed down and stood, buffeted by the sea wind, staring down at Fourges, the King's city. It was an old tradition, one begun the first time her father brought her to court. While the horses rested after the steep climb, her father had shown her the city. She remembered, even now, how awed she had been, even a little frightened, for the King's city was like no other.

  She stood on the rim of a range of hills. Far below, the River Luisine snaked across the valley floor, flowing out into a wide, deep bay. The city carpeted the valley, sprawling across every inch, scrambling up the hills, hanging along the riverbanks, crowding beneath the cliffs as though it would spread onto the very sea. The wind carried the smells and noise to her and tugged insistently at her cloak. Mariette shivered.

  Limited for space, Fourges was not the largest city in Valderon. But it was the most prosperous and dangerous. Its citizens were legion, and as varied in their interests, expectations and morals. The King's city was a center of commerce, a cutthroat world where merchant princes and ruthless guilds competed for wealth. Goods, from the exotic to the ordinary, arrived in Fourges by sea and left by road and river, traveling in every direction for up to five hundred leagues. The River Luisine held the key to trade across three countries. Trade brought the city power and wealth. Ferdinand and his court controlled that wealth. Fourges was a city where everything was for sale.

  To the landward side, the city was protected by its walls, with six guarded gates. Throughout the day a stream of riders, wagons and pedestrians gathered at each gate waiting to enter the city. Within the walls, the main areas of the city were easily visible, the spires of the churches, the markets and halls. On the north bank, the streets were narrow and the houses closely packed. The heaving mass of roofs broken up by courtyards, church spires and narrow strips of green.

  The south bank was dominated by the sprawling grandeur of the King's palaces, a cluster of mismatched buildings, some were ancient, some newly built. The palace complex housed the court, and at its heart stood the grim rectangular bulk of the ancient great hall and the height of the gray tower. Close by the pale extravagance of Ferdinand's newest palace looked out of place. This was her destination, the King's court where friends, rivals and enemies waited.

  The Luisine cut through the heart of the city, and as always the river was busy, speckled with boats and sails. Lighters lay alongside the wharfs. Two bridges spanned the river; the newest and grandest provided a crossing that led to the palace gates; the oldest, crowded with shops and houses, lay downriver towards the sea. Beyond the old bridge on the south bank, lay the Jallo, the poorest part of the city, here the houses crouched and clambered above the wharfs and warehouses.

  The horses were ready, but Mariette remained, staring down at the city. Quietly Sophie came to join her, and they stood in silence for a few moments.

  "You seem worried since Chamfort," Sophie said.

  Mariette did not answer. The sound of bells reached them from the city, carried by the wind.

  "Send word to Mathieu, if you are worried," said Sophie. "He will help."

  "No." It sounded harsh. "I can't, not yet."

  Sophie moved closer, touching her arm. "But why not? You can trust Mathieu."

  "If I call for Mathieu, Jai will come too." She did not say that she could not trust Jai, but she knew Sophie understood.

  "If Edouard de Chamfort is implicated in this evil, it is a betrayal beyond imagining." Sophie was frowning anxiously. "Why should you carry this burden alone?"

  "Because I must know the truth before I unleash something so terrible."

  "And what has happened, what is happening, that is not terrible?"

  "It is terrible, but…" She felt Sophie's concern and knew it was genuine. She tried to explain. "We could unleash something worse. The tensions between Rupert and Ferdinand are too dangerous. It would take so little to spark conflict, even a civil war. Perhaps that is what the shadow wants, and whoever controls the shadow knights, will move against the throne in the chaos?" If only she could discover who was behind the shadow knights, but they were well hidden.

  Sophie was silent for a moment as if choosing her words. "You would put Rupert de Chamfort's security above the lives of a handful of villagers?"

  "No, I would not, and it's not that simple. I do not believe Rupert is part of any treachery. If his son is…" She gestured towards the city. "Ferdinand will not care about the truth; he hates his brother too much. What do think will happen if we set them at each other's throats?" She received no answer. "So, would you risk tearing Valderon apart without proof?"

  "There are other risks."

  "I know, but for now, we wait. Nothing will happen whilst Arnaud lives."

  "I suppose not."

  She heard the doubt and said quickly. "You know I don't hesitate lightly, or for any of the reasons Jai suggests."

  "Of course, he knows that too, but it is hard for him."

  Mariette turned and walked towards the carriage without answering. She knew how hard it was for Jaime, and why.

  ####

  On her first morning at court, she made her way to the warren of dark rooms where the Chancellor and his staff worked. The place was a hive of activity. Clerks and secretaries scurried past her with armfuls of documents. Basile de Autrens rise had been spectacular, and now he managed every aspect of the King's business. His workload must be extraordinary.

  As befitted her rank, she was admitted immediately. Basile rose to greet her. For a moment, she was transfixed by the young Chancellor's robe, fur, embroidered velvet and, she thought, feathers. An amazingly vulgar confection. Recovering, she acknowledged his bow and walked to the chair set ready for her.

  She refused the offer of wine. The Chancellor and his secretary had settled in chairs and were watching her a little anxiously. She began at once, listing the matters of concern and failings of the crown in its responsibilities within her demesnes; it was a list prepared by the steward of Montmercy. The Chancellor listened. The secretary took notes. Mariette finished by demanding certain corrections and restitution of forfeited revenue. The Chancellor, well informed on the subject, stated the crown's position, and they proceeded to negotiate. An agreement was reached, and the secretary departed to draw up the necessary papers.

  Basile de Autrens smiled. "If only all such matters were so easily accomplished." He rose, opening the door to his private cabinet. She followed him into a small, octagonal room, with wood paneled walls and leaded windows. Basile closed the thic
k door. Then he poured wine for them both and came to sit by her side. "You have come from Chamfort?" He spoke quietly now.

  "Yes. I have news."

  "I also have news." He lifted a stack of travel-stained pages. "The brutal attacks on villages in the woods of Chamfort continue. Five villages burned in the last few weeks, the people slaughtered."

  It was what she had come to tell him, but she hesitated. "St Andre is at Chamfort. His men have been rousting outlaws in the area, on the King's orders."

  "Ah." Basile's thin fingers sorted through the papers. Selecting one page, he paused to read it before he spoke, "I don't know who provided St Andre with his information, but from my reports, it seems unlikely the villages that suffered these attacks sheltered outlaws. Do you think if we investigate we will find the villages in my lists are the same ones as those targeted by St Andre on the King's order?"

  "I do," she said. "It seems more and more likely that Mathieu was right. St Andre is behind, or at least in league, with the shadow knights, and he grows bold. To act so openly, his arrogance is astounding. To hide his activities beneath the King's banner is a double treachery."

  She continued before he could speak. "I know your doubts, and I agree that without proof, and without witnesses, we cannot accuse the Marechal. He is too powerful, and he has the King's full confidence. His skill and prowess are unquestioned." She shrugged. "It is difficult. He was sent to punish outlaws, and much might be excused under that remit."

  She paused, glancing round, but there was no sound from the outer room. "However, there is a chance that I might find proof this time. We have the help of a local man who may be able to find the survivors from one of the villages, and induce them to talk. I have sent my Captain with him to gather evidence. If we can prove one village innocent of wrongdoing then the King must question who carried out the attacks, and why. If the men were St Andre's then King will want to know why innocent villagers were slaughtered in his name."