by Jules Marks
“Of course, Gael. What is it…what is wrong?”
“Stay with me, or one of the others of our band at all times until they find the monster who killed Terrel. I don’t want you running around this place on your own.”
Larkin grimaced, and then nodded. “That won’t be a difficult promise to keep, Gael. I don’t want to be on my own just now. This place, which heretofore seemed so lovely and held such promise for me, has instead become sinister and full of menace. I’m uncomfortable here. It’s as if I have an itch that cannot be scratched; something’s going to happen, but I just…I just…” He stopped, and looked perplexed.
“I know…I feel it as well.” Trying to shake off my own dark mood, I lightly cuffed at his shoulder. “Keep that promise: stay close, lad.”
Larkin nodded. “I shall.”
<><><>
It had been two days since the discovery of Terrel’s body, and no progress had been made with regard to the discovery of his murderer. This, not surprisingly, led to an overall sense of gloom around the castle. It hung in the very air…much like a dense fog. Even the weather seemed complicit with the sense of despair; the sky was constantly overcast, the temperature had dropped considerably, and there was an uncomfortable dampness to the air.
You could tell that the situation had driven a wedge between people. Soldiers who had once been boon companions now looked at their comrades with suspicion; no one felt at ease; no one felt safe.
Larkin was being true to his word: he constantly shadowed one or all of us. The only time he ever disappeared from sight was to use the privy; otherwise, he was ever present.
In spite of the dejection in the air, we had to do something to fill our time. All of us were still mending; there was a great deal of scratching at stitches and flexing of aching muscles going on. We were restless, but heavy training would be foolhardy for any but Hugh. Instead we found sedentary ways to spend our time. The library proved a refuge, and though I’d never learned to read more than a few words, the other members of our band read to me aplenty. Most of Halwick’s books were in the language of the priests, but some had been transcribed in our own native tongue, and those were the ones favored by Larkin and Ioan.
We played more games of llinx than I could keep track of, and we found a worthy opponent in Rebeccah’s uncle Thomas. He was an aficionado of the game, and had had an elaborate board of coloured quartz inlaid into a table in the library. My first impression of Sir Thomas’ jovial nature proved true: he was a decidedly easy-going fellow whose friendly disposition seemed constant whether he won or lost the game. From conversations we had over llinx, I gathered he wasn’t really much of a warrior—he’d left those pursuits to his brother-in-law’s side of the family—and instead Sir Thomas was interested in scholarly pastimes, hence his regular presence in the library. Being no scholar myself, I didn’t have that in common with the man, but I enjoyed his company, and was surprised that he treated me with kindness and respect in spite of my lower station.
As Nordz’ condition improved, we spent more time visiting in his room, and he taught us a new game which used playing cards. We spent hours learning the intricacies of the game, which was called ‘gambit.’ None of us came close to beating Nordz, but we had a good time beating one another.
Though he was with us a great deal of the time, Hugh seldom participated in the games, but instead simply observed our play, giving the occasional suggestion as to a move, or congratulating a winner. He’d become more solemn, and several times he left us, saying he’d be in the chapel if needed.
Ioan departed now and again as well, but his destination tended to be Rebeccah’s chambers. He was spending a great deal of time with her, and though his honour held his tongue regarding what transpired between the twosome, it was easy enough to tell that he was happy to have made her acquaintance.
It would seem, then, that Larkin and I were left to ourselves more often than not, but such did not end up being the situation. When he wasn’t with his commanders or dealing with the castle’s affairs, Akimba spent a great deal of time in Nordz’ chamber when we were there, and it seemed he had decided to join our band in the desire to take Larkin on as a “project.” Odd as it might be for the lord of the castle to enjoy the company of a master at arms and a mere squire, Akimba actually became a friend to us. Once, when he caught Larkin maneuvering to allow him a win in gambit, he tossed aside his cards and lightheartedly chided the lad, telling him that he would expect no quarter from him; he would win or lose on his own merits. Larkin ducked his head in embarrassment, but he agreed, and the next game he gave Akimba quite a thrashing. Akimba’s reaction was to laugh, threaten Larkin with the dungeon, and then take him on in another game. Once more Larkin beat him. Though Akimba was again good-natured about the loss, I could tell he wasn’t quite so amused as before. I was sitting behind him, and when he offered to play Larkin one last game, I caught Larkin’s attention and drew a line across my throat with a finger, hoping Larkin might just get the message.
Though he made no outward sign, Larkin apparently got the idea: he did a masterful job of subterfuge, and managed—by the skin of his teeth—to lose. Akimba seemed satisfied that he had won fair and square.
Nordz, who had witnessed the contest from his bed, gave Larkin a crafty wink of the eye, but turned to congratulate his master.
“Lord Akimba, at last you’ve learned the intricacies of gambit. You may beat me yet before I die.”
Akimba chuckled and shook his head. “I doubt that, Nordz. You will never go as easy on me as this kind youth.” Here he smiled at Larkin. “Some men have a gift for games; I, for one, do not.”
Larkin bowed his head. “And some men, my lord, would prefer to have your gifts of valour and arms. They serve more use than the ability to win at games.”
Though he was undoubtedly accustomed to flattery, Akimba seemed pleased with Larkin’s compliment, and he showed his appreciation by reaching out and patting the lad’s shoulder. Larkin flashed him a quick look of admiration, then lowered his eyes again.
There was an awkward silence among us until Nordz spoke.
“Well said, Larkin, well said.” With a casual wave of one hand, Nordz gestured towards the door. “Now, all of you, get you hence; I need a nap. Enough of these games: the fog has lifted, and those who are able should take advantage of the sunshine.”
The three of us took a turn ‘round the battlements. Akimba was still limping from his wound. I asked him if he was mending satisfactorily.
He shrugged. “I suppose so. But, I wonder: does it matter? I must be ready for battle, fit or no, for a battle is coming soon.” He looked to where Larkin was speaking with one of the guard, noted the distance between us, and then lowered his voice when he spoke again. “Two scouts reported in this morning. We have two days…three at most before the Uplanders come. They will outnumber us at least three to one. Given our advantage of arms and horses, that may make us about even, but I cannot say for certain because of what’s been happening here. I worry about the treachery within these walls. Morale is low; so many questions are left unanswered; Halwick’s leadership is sorely missed; the men are uneasy. This is not how I would choose to face the enemy.”
“But if the murderer or murderers could be found, would not the men’s morale improve?”
Akimba nodded. “No doubt it would…somewhat, at any rate. But I’ve no idea who those murderers may be, and no progress has been made with the investigations. Our sheriff is no fool…he is a good man…but he has nothing much to go on. If it was an outsider who did these terrible deeds—and I prefer to believe that it was—we have no idea how he gained access to the castle compound. Security is tight; the gates are constantly guarded. A stranger cannot enter without notice.”
“What of Adran? I never heard what happened to him. Is there any chance that he is culpable? Could he have had anything to do with Terrel’s death?”
Akimba waved my suggestion aside. “If he had anything to do with it, no one would
know: either Adran is an extraordinary actor, or his is, in truth, much grieved over Terrel’s death. He has been inconsolable since the discovery of Terrel’s body; he deeply regrets his wrongful accusations of his friend.” Akimba pulled his hand across his brow, sighed, and leaned over against the battlements. “My father would know what to do, but I am at a loss.” He shook his head. “I would be missing Halwick regardless of the circumstances, but with things as they are, I miss his guidance all the more.”
“Is there anyone who benefited by his death?” I asked.
“Other than myself?” Akimba groaned, and when he saw that I was about to protest, he explained. “Some people say I was eager to take his place, and I suppose I can see why they would think so. They thought that I was the one who decided to take more responsibility from him. Most people didn’t know that those very responsibilities were thrust upon me by Halwick: he was training me to rule.”
“You do seem a natural leader, Lord Akimba.” My words were not meant to flatter; they were completely sincere.
“But I wasn’t ready! There was still so much more to learn!” He bowed his head. “I wasn’t ready…and now this.”
I was about to respond, but Larkin interrupted.
“Lord Akimba…Gael…the Lady Rebeccah is below; she beckons us come.”
She met us at the base of the wall. It was obvious that she was distressed; she’d paced back and forth as she waited for us to descend the stairs.
“Have any of you seen Ioan?”
Akimba shrugged and turned to me.
“I thought he was with you, Lady,” I answered.
She looked both worried and exasperated. “He was with me, but he had some sudden, harebrained idea that he wished to discuss with Akimba.” She turned again to her brother. “So you haven’t seen him at all?”
“Not since this morning,” he replied.
“What about Sir Hugh?” asked Larkin. “Do you know where he is?”
Rebeccah passed a hand over her brow. “He’s in the chapel, in conference with one of the priests. He hasn’t seen Ioan.”
“Why are you worried about him, Lady?” I asked.
Rebeccah nervously massaged her palm as she answered. “We were discussing the murders here in the castle. Ioan was curious about the security at the gates; he wanted to know how carefully they’re guarded. I explained to him that though the town might be somewhat vulnerable, the castle compound is safe. The guards take note of all people who enter or depart. No Uplander would be able to gain access to the compound itself.” She paused to exhale.
Akimba took the opportunity to move forward and put an arm around Rebeccah’s shoulders. “Why are you so concerned?”
“I just do not know what he planned to do…where he was going. Ioan pointed out how easily he entered the compound without notice being taken of him; he said that any man could gain entry if he came in with a trusted knight, soldier or servant of the castle.”
Akimba scowled. “So he believes that there is a traitor among us…that one of our people is working in concert with the Uplanders?”
“I know you don’t want to believe it, Akimba, but it is a reasonable explanation for what’s happened. Neither of us wants to think that one of our own knights had anything to do with the deaths, but there are many knights who have answered our call for aid about whom we know little. One of them could be the culprit.”
Larkin spoke up. “But what of a motive? Why would a stranger want to kill Terrel…or Baldrig or Halwick, for that matter?”
Akimba groaned. “One reason is obvious: without Halwick’s sound leadership, we are seriously weakened. And think of the consequences of the other murders. The men’s hearts are full of doubt and fear; they know not who to trust. Any man with the Uplanders’ best interests at heart would see how to strike at us without so much as a battle. You’ve all seen the results: when we should be certain of easy victory, we doubt our ability to survive the war.” He stopped speaking, because Rebeccah had pulled from his comforting embrace and turned away. She stood with fists clenched at her sides; her posture was rigid.
“I do not care about all of that…not just now, at any rate. At the moment, I simply want to know where Ioan is. I’ll worry about murders, motives, and strategies later…” She lowered her head and moaned. “Why does the man insist on putting me through this?”
Akimba responded by going to her and reaching for her hand.
His voice was gentle. “Come, Sister, we’ll organize a search if you’d like.”
Rebeccah turned towards us. Her eyes were sparkling with ready tears, but she maintained her composure as she shook her head. “No, I imagine he is fine; he would say I’m over-reacting, that I’m being hysterical.” She looked at Akimba and managed a trembling smile. “I don’t know what’s come over me. This behavior is ludicrous. Whatever would Father say?”
Akimba grinned. “He’d say that you’ve been smitten…that’s what he’d say.”
Rebeccah dipped her chin and passed a hand across her brow, but she couldn’t manage to hide her blush. “I’m becoming a foolish woman.” She waved a hand at us as she turned to depart. “Go on…go about your business and don’t mind me. I’m going to go pretend to sew tapestry or some other insipid feminine endeavor.”
We watched her walk away, and then Akimba turned to speak to us.
“Well, where should we look first?”
Chapter Seventeen
It was almost twilight, and we’d still seen no sign of Ioan.
At first just the three of us had searched for him. But as the afternoon grew late, Akimba became seriously concerned and determined that we needed help. He decided not to enlist too many searchers: he only used our Llewellan party and a few of his most-trusted and close-mouthed comrades. He didn’t want to create a stir that would lead to more fear, more suspicion, so we were being discreet in our hunt.
I’d begun to think that we would find Ioan dead, skinned like Terrel, and I could tell that the others were thinking the same thoughts: all of us, all of Ioan’s friends wore a look of sick anxiety. (I had a miserable knot in my stomach, and I could imagine I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.) We each tried to cheer Lady Rebeccah whenever our paths crossed, but our words of encouragement were obviously pointless. She was a brave woman…we all of us knew that already…but she’d never been schooled in affairs of the heart. Tough and battle-scarred she might be, but she was ill equipped to hide her woe. The poor woman looked absolutely wretched.
Larkin and I had just parted ways from Akimba and Hugh. They were going up to the battlements to take one last look ‘round before the light failed completely. For our part, we were to go speak with the guards at the gates.
It was Den who gave us good news. He came in through the castle gates with one of his comrades—both looked decidedly cheerful, with the rosy cheeks and yeasty breath of ale-drinkers—and he greeted us exuberantly, with a great deal more volume than necessary.
“Well, if it isn’t more of Sir Hugh’s party! What a jolly fine group you are!” He paused long enough to clap Larkin on the shoulder. “Fine men, one and all!” He gestured towards his companion. “We just been having some pleasant conversation with one of your number down at the inn—he bought us several rounds, let me tell you—and he’s a fine chap, he is…a bit strange, but a fine chap, indeed!”
We’d just spoken with Hugh not a quarter of an hour before, so we knew Den could only be speaking of Ioan.
“You’ve seen Ioan, then?” I responded, trying to sound calmer than I actually was.
“Well, certainly!” Again his voice boomed in my ears. “He’s not far behind…he was helping old Cuthbert along the way…” Den snorted. “Cuthbert can’t hold his liquor these days; he was weaving from side to side…you should’ve seen ‘im fall down the way. That’s when your friend stepped in to help.” He looked towards the gate. “See…there they come now.”
Two figures emerged through the gate. One was obviously drunk: though he was
being assisted, his ability to perambulate was seriously impaired.
Ioan supported him. Though he was wearing a cowl and his head was bent low as he urged his companion forward, I could identify his form easily enough.
Relief swept over me in a wave, and Larkin must have felt a similar emotion, for he rushed towards Ioan and grabbed him by the elbow.
“Wherever were you gone all afternoon? Do you have any idea how worried we’ve all been?” He sounded just like a mother.
Ioan’s head came up; his eyes were ghostly pale in the waning daylight, and his expression was quizzical. “Why were you worried?”
Larkin was practically sputtering as he responded. “Well, it’s not as if it’s safe to wander around here by yourself…you’ve told me that often enough, anyway. Lady Rebeccah has made herself sick with worry! We were all afraid we’d find you skinned and stuffed behind a barrel…or the victim of some other ghastly death! You cannot imagine the thoughts that were running through my…” He stopped, because Ioan put a finger to his lips.
