Richard stared at him, livid.
That’s done it. Maybe a little humility was warranted. After all, though he was about to die, the king declared the manner of it. And quick was better than lingering.
‘I … I mean, your grace, that he is your man, loyal to your majesty. And though he can be a bit … stubborn … it is because he is anxious to do your will. What a man might call arrogance is merely rashness. He will find the Stone, your grace, because he said he will. And my master rarely surrenders once set to a task. Even if … even if my time has … run out.’
Richard chewed on his lip, eyes lashed to Jack, even as he stepped backward until his knees touched the throne and he sat abruptly. Silence still reined in the hall and only the merest squeak of leather and clank of armor marred it.
Until Queen Anne suddenly shot to her feet. She faced the king and, just as surprised as anyone else, he could do nothing but stare at her.
‘My gracious lord,’ she said, gaze set on her husband. ‘What is this boy to you? He is merely the servant of Crispin Guest. The failings of the master must not be visited upon the servant.’
‘I … my dear madam, these are not matters for you to worry over …’
‘But I do, my husband, for all the kingdom’s subjects are like our children, and I would not see harm come to them.’
‘Even if they are guilty?’
‘But this boy is guilty only of loyalty to his master. Should that be punished?’
‘If a master commits treason and his servants follow that master, then they are just as guilty of treason.’
She clasped her trembling hands together and pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips. ‘But my kind and gracious lord, this boy has declared himself loyal to you.’ The court gasped when the queen got down on her knees before the king and bowed her head. ‘My lord and husband, I beg you to show mercy on this boy. His loyalty to his master and to you serves him well. And he has done you no ill. I fear that such an unworthy punishment would call down the wrath of God upon us and our people if we should enact so unjust a pain upon him. I beg you, my lord, to pardon him.’
Jack’s jaw loosened, and he could not look away from the Madonna-like figure of the queen, pleading before a befuddled Richard.
Richard took in the breathless crowd. ‘But my dear …’
‘And the people shall shout in the streets at your benevolence, your mercy, your kindness. And they shall rise as one, as Englishmen against the rebels who would dare shake their swords at England’s throne.’
The royal hand rubbed the royal beard, but his eyes still traveled over his wife with disbelief.
After a long moment, he fell back against his throne. ‘Our lady wife, the queen would have mercy.’ His fingers curled over the ends of the chair arms. ‘… and she has convinced us that mercy should be shown,’ he added, reluctantly. ‘Jack Tucker, you are released from your sentence.’
A collective sigh swept over the crowd. Jack gasped a sob and bowed his head.
‘But! I do not release your master from his task. I want Crispin Guest found. I want to hear from his lips what he has been about.’ He lurched to his feet and put out his hand for his queen. She rose serenely, catching Jack’s eye for only a moment with the merest wisp of a wink, before she took the king’s hand.
The crowd bowed as Richard stalked off the dais, escorting his wife away.
‘You are the luckiest man alive … next to Crispin himself,’ said the voice of Henry at his ear. ‘It appears that the queen is now your patron. Whatever you have done for her has made you her vassal. I congratulate you. But I cannot say I am not pleased to see the back of you. Begone, Tucker, and bedevil me no more.’
Jack bowed breathlessly. ‘With all due respect, your grace, I will be happy to!’
He whipped around toward Lady Katherine and took her hand, kissing it. ‘My lady. Thank you!’
She shook her head, but her eyes were bright with tears. ‘You silly boy. Go on. You are what Crispin needs, I am sure of it.’
‘My lady.’ He bowed, looked to Henry again – who couldn’t seem to hide his smirk – and pivoted on his heel to depart … and ran right into a tall woman.
‘Oh! Forgive me, my lady. I did not see you there—’ The face was familiar and not altogether incongruous surrounded by a veil but it was not a particularly welcomed face. ‘Rykener!’ he hissed. ‘What the hell—’
‘Jack!’ Rykener grabbed his shoulders, patted his forearms, his chest, then back to his shoulders again before Jack wriggled away. ‘You are well and whole! Crispin will be so pleased.’
‘You’ve been talking to Master Crispin?’ Eyes darting, Jack wasn’t certain that everyone couldn’t see through Rykener’s ‘disguise.’
‘I’ve been filling your shoes in your absence, and what big shoes they are. I do not envy you your apprenticeship, Master Tucker, for I am ill-equipped to do the task myself.’
‘You’ve been what?’ All this time he had lamented Master Crispin’s solitude, his scrambling about without Jack, and instead, he had turned to the first substitute that entered his door!
But Rykener must have seen the hurt in his eyes.
‘Oh Jack, fear not. Master Crispin misses you. Has done every hour of the day and night. No one could ever fill the hole you left, be assured.’
Jack adjusted his coat, letting the heat of his cheeks dissipate. ‘I never doubted it, Master Rykener.’
‘But I do have a message for you. Crispin has found the Stone!’
‘What? Then why has he not sent word sooner? I was almost roasted alive back there.’
‘Because these rebels have abducted Eleanor Langton to force Crispin to bring them the Stone.’
‘God blind me! What’s to be done? He isn’t giving it to them, is he?’ Jack rubbed his neck absently. The queen had intervened for him this time. If there was another instance of his capture, he doubted the king would see fit to relent a second time.
‘Crispin needs help.’
Jack drew to attention instantly. ‘Right.’ He glanced once toward the main entrance toward freedom and turned his face away. Stalking back toward the palace corridors, he found Henry’s retinue and called out, ‘Lord Derby! Here! Lord Derby!’
He saw the stocky shoulders of Henry cringe upward. When Henry turned his face, his scowl was black. ‘Tucker. Haven’t you gone yet?’
‘My lord, I must ask a favor.’
Jack could have sworn Henry was reaching for his sword.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Crispin heaved the cart with his heavy burden over the muddy ruts in the road, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. The Vespers bells had rung some time ago and Compline was nearer than he liked. He kept glancing toward the shop and house windows with their closed shutters, light leaking out around them in strips of gold.
He had prayed that Jack Tucker was well, that Abbot William’s private message to the king would have arrived in a timely fashion, but he knew he must not think of that. He had wanted to go personally to Gilbert, to reassure him, but there had been no time. Just this. This cart with its cloth-covered burden.
His sword slapped his thigh, and it gave him grim satisfaction. He hoped he would get the chance to use it tonight.
All was quiet except for that damned squeaky wheel. He turned the corner at Vintry and stopped, lowering the cart. Pricking up his ears, he listened to the night. When he heard nothing he picked up the handles of the cart again, and trudged forward down the lane toward the dock.
The Thames was close. The odor of seaweed, privies, and fish all mingled into the smell he had come to know as the river. He trundled his cart along the street that opened wide into the docks. He slowed and paused when he saw the cog docked there with its lit lanterns bobbing fore and aft, but then he reckoned they needed to get the Stone away somehow, and a ship was the logical transport.
Crispin set the cart down again and pricked his ears, eyes scanning carefully not only along the flank of the ship, but up and do
wn the docks. He saw no one, nothing. Even the rats seemed to be abed.
He watched the ship, rising with each swell of the river. Its hull creaked as it strained against the dock line. At once he saw movement, and a figure rose from below the castle to stand on the deck. He looked out over the water and Crispin saw the exact moment his presence was noticed.
The figure hurriedly moved to the gunwale and looked down. And by the lantern light beside his face, where Crispin expected Deargh, he saw Findlaich instead.
‘Master Guest,’ he called, just loud enough for Crispin to hear. Crispin left the cart and moved closer to the ship along the wooden dock, stepping over coils of rope. The glitter of discarded fish scales along the planks was almost lovely by moonlight, but the smell brought any dreamy notions to a halt.
‘Master Findlaich. I will not quibble with you. Have you Eleanor there?’
Findlaich smiled. ‘You do get to the point. I like that about you, Guest.’ He called back to an unseen compatriot behind him to the decks below. Presently, a henchman brought forth a woman, bound and gagged. Crispin recognized the dusky blond hair that caught the lantern and moonlight. She must have lost her wimple and veil. He had rarely seen her without it. Heart stuttering, he nevertheless breathed evenly.
‘Eleanor, I am here.’
The figure twisted to look at him and relief broke through the reddened eyes.
‘Ungag her. Let her speak.’
‘Only if she will promise to behave.’
Eleanor’s murderous glower caused Findlaich to hesitate. But he delicately reached behind her head and untied the rag. The first thing she did was spit at him. Findlaich observed her mildly and wiped his face with his hand.
‘Crispin!’ she called. Her voice was unsteady but otherwise strong. ‘Where is Gilbert? Is he well?’
‘Is he?’ he asked of Findlaich.
‘He is well. We no touched him.’
‘Then that is well for you,’ she huffed. ‘For I shall not have to kill you now. Though I cannot speak for Master Guest.’
Findlaich laughed at that. ‘She is spirited for her age.’
Eleanor kicked out, landing a hit to his shin.
Findlaich yowled and stumbled away from her. ‘Madwoman! Enough of this.’ He bent down to rub his leg and gave his henchman a bleary eye. The henchmen grabbed Eleanor’s bound arms and yanked her back. ‘Have you the Stone, Master Guest?’
‘Do you take the Stone for your master or for yourself? Idle curiosity.’ He ticked his head. ‘There are all sorts of ways to commit treason, Findlaich.’
‘And you would know.’ The blow landed, but it didn’t smart as much coming from such a quarter.
Findlaich laughed. ‘How could I know the king would give you the impetus to harden your search? But I see you found the Stone at last. Tell me, Master Guest, is your apprentice well?’
Ashamed that he had no idea, he clenched his jaw. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh? So this Eleanor means a great deal more than sorry young Jack Tucker? Oh ho! And she another man’s wife. For shame!’
‘You degenerate bastard!’ cried Eleanor, wrestling with her guards.
‘Release her and I will give you the Stone.’
‘You think I’m a fool, Crispin Guest? Bring the Stone and I will release her.’
Crispin hurried back down the dock to the waiting cart, hefted it up, and rolled it forward. He stopped when he heard steps behind him.
‘What, by Andrew’s bones, is this?’ cried Deargh. His men flanked him.
McGuffin came upon them as he turned the corner. ‘Master Guest! Shame on you and your deception. You lied to me, sir!’
Findlaich gripped the gunwale so hard he was likely to break it. ‘What have you done, Guest?’
‘I thought it was high time that you all met.’ He looked from one angry face to the other. ‘My mistake. It seems you know one another very well.’
‘He’s a deceitful bastard,’ said Deargh, pointing a finger at Findlaich. ‘Greed is all he knows.’
‘Look who’s talking,’ cried McGuffin. ‘I have never met a more thieving bastard than Deargh.’
Findlaich laughed from his high perch. ‘And you’re the worst of the lot, McGuffin. Stealing your bauble from a woman. What’s the matter? Afraid to face a man?’
Red-faced, McGuffin charged for the ship, but the presence of an archer aiming his arrow over the side at him stalled his progress.
‘So it was you who killed the monk,’ said Crispin. Again, he had been hoping for Deargh’s guilt.
‘He was expendable. All vassals are, Master Guest. Don’t you know that?’
‘Better than most,’ he said ruefully.
He nodded to the cloth-covered item on the cart below. ‘Uncover it.’
Crispin grabbed a corner and pulled it off with a flourish, revealing the Stone.
Findlaich gave a wide smile. ‘And there it is at last. I see you managed to find it.’
‘No thanks to you. Did you have to kill Brother Andrew before he told me where it was?’
Findlaich sent a searing look toward his archer, who shrugged.
The Scotsman grinned over the gunwale. ‘Lucky for us that you are as clever as they say.’
‘Yes. Lucky for us all.’
‘Now then, Master Guest, if you would be so good as to step back so that my men …’
‘Now hold, Findlaich.’ Deargh strode forward. His burly men followed in lockstep. ‘What makes you think you can take possession? We have all worked hard for our clan chief.’
‘Because I clearly planned better than you did. Step aside, Deargh.’ The archer on the gunwale pulled back the bowstring and aimed again.
Deargh grumbled and took a step back, but his hand was on his sword hilt.
One of Findlaich’s men slid down the line tied to the dock and landed on the planks with a thud. He eyed Crispin warily.
‘Are you going to pick that up all by yourself?’ asked Crispin.
The man scratched his chin. ‘Aye. I reckon not. Simon!’ Another man leaned over the gunwale. ‘Come down and help.’
The one called Simon had the intelligence to maneuver the gangway over the side until it slid down and touched the dock. He walked down it to meet his companion. Each grabbed one of the Stone’s iron rings and pulled.
Nothing happened.
They pulled again, straining now, but the Stone would not be lifted from the cart.
‘What sorcery is this?’ asked Simon.
‘No sorcery,’ said Crispin, unsheathing his sword and flipping it around, so he held the blade but brandished the heavy pommel and hilt. ‘Only the art of the plasterer. Is the paint dry?’ He swung, and the hilt smacked Simon on the side of his head, sending him down flat to the dock.
The other man fumbled at his sword, but Crispin swung again, catching him on his jaw and down he went.
Crispin looked up at Findlaich. ‘You’re next.’
Findlaich frowned. ‘You only delay the inevitable, Master Guest.’
‘Do I?’ By then the sound of horses reached their ears and all turned toward the mouth of the street.
The light was dim, but Crispin felt relief at the sight of Henry of Bolingbroke’s colors on the destriers’ trappers.
Henry, looking grim in his armor and open helm, merely pointed ahead and said, ‘Get them.’
The horsemen rushed forward, fanning out to cover the entire width of the street, cutting off escape. Two ran down McGuffin’s men, while two more peeled off to surround Deargh’s supporters.
The last two galloped up the dock, slipped off their horses, and made their way up the gangway.
Findlaich quickly grabbed Eleanor and raced her up to the forecastle.
Crispin ran to the end of the dock. ‘Let her go!’
‘As you wish!’ cried Findlaich. He shoved her to the edge of the gunwale and tipped her over the side.
‘NO!’
Eleanor screamed as she plummeted toward the water.
Crispin leaped into the dark river. Blackness closed in around him and he could see nothing. But he felt the trail of bubbles against his face and followed it.
Down he dove, kicking his feet furiously, reaching wildly with his hands. Was it seaweed? Or … hair? He grabbed it, closing his fingers around the strands and tugged. He reached further and wrapped his arm around coils of rope bound tight around the woman. He raised his face upward toward the dim light of the lantern above and fought the water, kicking, until he reached the surface and broke through, pushing the woman up to breathe.
She gasped, mouth wide. Her light hair swathed her face, plastered against the pale skin.
Hands reached down and lifted her from him, then they were lifting him and he fell to the dock with a splat, just breathing. It wasn’t long until a strong arm closed over his own and tugged him to his feet and he was face to face with Henry Derby.
‘What took you so long?’ Crispin said between coughs.
‘There was a little matter of beating a servant of yours. Or rather, of wanting to.’
Crispin spied the servant in question over Henry’s shoulder, cutting the binds off of Eleanor, just as Gilbert and John Rykener ran up to her.
‘Jack!’ Crispin didn’t recall pushing Henry aside, but he traveled the short distance across the dock to pull his apprentice into an embrace.
The lad’s arms encircled him in a crushing grip. ‘Master Crispin!’
‘Jack. Damn you, boy!’ He hugged him tight for a moment more before pushing him back gruffly. ‘Must you add so much vexation to my life? There is already enough.’
‘I am glad to see you, too, sir!’ Jack’s voice wobbled.
Henry came up behind them, arms akimbo. ‘Is this all of them, Crispin?’
Crispin looked over the sorry group of men being bundled together by Henry’s knights. ‘Yes. All except for Findlaich.’
‘Look!’ cried one of the riders, pointing to the bowsprit.
Findlaich stood on the edge, holding onto a line to steady himself. He looked as if he was going to jump, to swim for freedom.
The Silence of Stones Page 26
