by Peter McLean
Anne reached for the door handle, then paused. ‘Is there a plan, beyond “kill everyone”?’
‘No,’ I said.
She nodded and threw the door open, her crossbow swinging up from under her cloak in one fluid motion.
Inside the mess hall there was a man dancing an unsteady jig on a table to the sound of a flute being played very badly. Anne’s crossbow thumped by my ear, and the man flew backwards off the table with a bolt through his chest. Then I was through the door with the Weeping Women in my hands, and behind me Anne dropped her crossbow and drew her daggers.
I heard her kick the door shut behind us. By then I had crossed to the table and buried Remorse in the back of a man who was slumped face down across the wood with an empty brandy bottle by his hand. He gave a low groan as he died, but that was all. Two more lurched to their feet, swaying with shock and brandy, and Anne took one through the throat with a thrown dagger even as I thrust Mercy into the other’s guts.
A fifth hurled a bottle at Anne’s head and charged at her with a bellow of drunken fury, but she ducked the bottle and slammed him in the face with the back of her mailed forearm as he came on. Glass smashed on the floor, and Anne twisted her hips and rammed her other dagger into his groin. She wrenched it free in a spray of dark blood and threw him to the ground with a grin of savage satisfaction.
The flute player dropped his instrument and looked up at us with panic on his face. He was a lad of maybe sixteen, and he was no guardsman.
Fuck!
‘Where’s the other one?’ I demanded.
There were supposed to be six of them, and this musical prick wasn’t supposed to be there at all. The lad pointed at a door, his hand shaking in sheer terror.
‘Privy,’ he whispered.
I nodded and crossed the room, and booted the privy door open.
The fellow was sitting on the wooden bench with his britches round his ankles, half passed out and half taking a shit. He looked up at me in utter confusion, obviously struggling to focus his eyes.
‘Gimme a fuckin’ minute, pal, I’m nearly done,’ he said, his voice thick with drink.
‘You’re done,’ I said.
I stabbed him where he sat, Mercy going into his guts so hard he finished his shit in a long, stinking rush. He slumped sideways on the bench in a spreading pool of blood.
That was done, then. I left him lying there and went back into the mess hall.
‘Let the bard live,’ I told Anne, but she had already knifed him.
That was how the crown’s justice was done.
Chapter 9
It all got done that same night.
The cart that Rosie had arranged for me turned up a few minutes after we finished the killing. I dismissed the door guard and let Rosie’s quiet boys file past me into the barracks. Ten hard-looking lads with bundles of cloth under their arms walked silently past us, and I turned to watch them go. I wondered who they were and where she had found them, and whether this was another favour I owed Iagin. It didn’t matter, I realised. Rosie knew how to get things done in Dannsburg, and that was all that was important.
Anne showed the lads into the mess hall and after a while they started to leave again, dragging wet things wrapped in blankets between them. I thought that somewhere south of the river, in that part of the city where the rich folk didn’t go, someone’s pigs would be eating well for the next few days. Seven bodies disappeared into the night on that cart, and no one said a fucking word about it.
That was what the Queen’s Warrant could do.
By the morning all the death warrants had been filled, and once more me and Ailsa and Iagin were called to Vogel’s office in the house of law.
‘Have the Prince Consort and Princess Crown Royal released from their apartments,’ he said. ‘Make sure they understand what has happened, and what must happen next. The queen died suddenly this morning. This afternoon the news of her death is to be made public, and the Prince Consort immediately announced as regent until the princess comes of age. There will be no unrest. See to that.’
We nodded, and assured the Provost Marshal that there would indeed be no unrest. What else could we do?
How the fuck the three of us were supposed to ensure there was no unrest across a city the size of Dannsburg I had no idea, but it seemed that wasn’t going to become my problem.
‘Iagin will see to the populace,’ Ailsa told me as we walked together through the corridors of the house of law. ‘This sort of thing is the whole point of Grachyev’s organisation.’
I thought about that for a moment, and nodded. Mr Grachyev dealt in taverns and inns, tailors’ shops and bath houses and brothels, all the places where folk gathered and gossiped. If word needed to be spread, those were the places to spread it from. That word would be about the Prince Consort’s noble character and his exemplary leadership, I had no doubt, and about what a wonderful regent he would make.
That’s what I would have done, anyway, and I couldn’t think Iagin would go about it any different. A large part of leadership is reassurance and telling people what they need to hear, after all. Even more so, when you’re trying to deceive them.
‘That’s good,’ I said.
‘Oh, don’t look so glum, Tomas,’ Ailsa said. ‘You did well last night.’
‘I murdered six men who’d done nothing to me,’ I snapped. ‘Seven, including that lad who shouldn’t even have been there.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ she said. ‘You executed six traitors and you made the realm a safer place by doing so. You did your job.’
‘And the lad? Who did he betray?’
Ailsa stopped and looked at me.
‘You’re a soldier, Tomas. Do you honestly think that no civilians were killed while our cannon were smashing Abingon to rubble? Do you think no innocent people died of starvation during the siege, or of plague or the bloody flux? You were there, you know better than that.’
I sighed. She was right, of course she was. I remembered the horrors we had seen when the walls of Abingon finally came down and we forced our way onto the streets of the city. I remembered the starving children, the burned and the maimed. Even now, if I close my eyes I can still see the beggars with bodies so twisted by plague they hardly looked human any more. I will never forget Abingon, and the things that I saw there, and the things that I did.
Such things happen in war, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. That didn’t mean it was right.
‘Aye, well,’ I said. ‘Those—’
‘Are the times we live in, yes, quite. Enough of that now, Tomas. Lord Vogel’s orders are to be obeyed, not questioned. You need to remember that at all times.’
That felt like a warning, to me, and a little bit closer to a threat than I was comfortable with.
Everyone is watched by someone, even me.
Ailsa had told me that herself, what seemed like a long time ago. I was a Queen’s Man now and the Queen’s Men were above the law, but we most definitely were not above Lord Vogel’s justice. I didn’t know what would happen to a Queen’s Man who crossed him, but I would have bet gold that it was nothing I wanted to find out. From what I had seen of it, Vogel’s idea of justice was even harsher than mine.
‘You’re right,’ I said at last.
‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘Now, I have to go to the palace and smooth the waters with the Prince Consort. Come with me?’
‘What for?’
‘You should meet him. He’s about to become the regent, which makes him king in all but name. For a year or so, anyway, until the princess comes of age. The crown at least should know its most loyal servants, even if nobody else does.’
‘Aye, that makes sense.’
I had to allow that it did, for all that I would have preferred to return to the Bountiful Harvest and catch up on some much-needed sleep. That or find a bottle of brandy and drink myself unconscious. After the night we’d had I wasn’t sure which I wanted more, but it seemed neither of those things were an optio
n that morning.
Ailsa’s carriage was waiting for her outside the house of law, and one of her footmen stood up smartly and opened the door for us when he saw us coming. I vaguely remembered him from the summer I had spent living in her house here the previous year, although I had forgotten his name. I had no doubt that he would remember me too, but he was wise and he gave no sign of it.
‘Where to, ma’am?’ he asked once we had taken our seats inside.
‘The palace,’ she said. ‘The private gate.’
‘Ma’am,’ he said, and went to speak to the coachman.
A moment later we were moving, the horses’ hooves beating a steady rhythm on the cobbles. It was strange to be there again, seated beside Ailsa in her carriage as though no hard words had ever passed between us. I cleared my throat, searching for something to say.
‘It’s not far, we’ll be there soon,’ Ailsa said.
I knew that, obviously. It came to me then that she might be finding the two of us working together as awkward as I was, and that surprised me.
Perhaps the lioness wasn’t completely made of stone after all.
*
We approached the palace from a different direction than usual, not coming down the great mall that led to the main entrance but along another street that I didn’t know. There was a small gatehouse at the end of it, but there were still eight of the Palace Guard on duty there. They wore heavy plate half-armour under their red surcoats, and they had halberds in their hands and long war swords hanging at their belts. These were proper soldiers, not green boys, hard-faced and watchful. I wondered where they had been the night the queen was killed, but of course that was done with now and I didn’t think further questions about the matter would have been wise.
Their sergeant came to the carriage, and Ailsa spoke briefly to him, and that was enough. It seemed her face was known, which I supposed made sense given the amount of time she seemed to have been spending in the palace of late.
‘This is my husband, Tomas Piety,’ she introduced me. ‘Treat him as you would me.’
She was still acknowledging me as her husband, then, which was something of a surprise.
‘Ma’am,’ the sergeant said, and gave me a nod of respect. ‘Sir.’
This one obviously understood how things worked, and that was good.
‘Never use the main entrance if you can avoid it,’ Ailsa advised me, as the carriage rolled through the gates. ‘There are too many eyes there, and our comings and goings should be as unremarked as possible.’
‘Aye, I know how to sneak about,’ I said.
‘Not in Dannsburg, you don’t,’ Ailsa said. ‘That guard sergeant is on my payroll, but I know for a fact that at least one of his men is on Lord Vogel’s. In Dannsburg everyone is watched, Tomas. Even us. Perhaps especially us.’
‘I heard you the first time,’ I said.
Ailsa showed me a cold smile. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I do believe you’re starting to understand how this works.’
I thought I was too, and I wasn’t sure that I liked it.
Chapter 10
The Prince Consort, soon to become the reigning Prince Regent, was a tall man in his late middle years. He was balding and weak-chinned, and he sported a huge moustache which did nothing to disguise either of those things.
He received us in a private drawing room in his own personal apartments within the palace, attended only by a steward, three footmen and four of the Palace Guard. Of the Princess Crown Royal there was no sign.
‘Your Highness,’ Ailsa said, as she dropped him a low curtsey. ‘May I present my husband and colleague, Father Tomas Piety.’
I bowed and waited for the prince to speak.
He took a sip from the bowl of tea he held and regarded us over the rim. His hand was trembling slightly, I noticed, and I suspected that more of the tea ended up in his moustache than his mouth.
‘Your colleague in what way, Lady Ailsa?’
‘He too carries the warrant.’
‘I see.’ He glanced at the steward and raised a finger. ‘Go away, all of you.’
The steward and the footmen dutifully left the room. The guards didn’t. It came to me then that they weren’t there to protect him so much as to enforce his house arrest. That meant that they were ours, then, or at least they were Vogel’s.
He waited until the door closed behind the steward before he turned and looked at me for the first time.
‘Are you here to kill me, Father Tomas?’
I glanced at the guardsmen, standing with their backs to the wall of the drawing room. None of them had so much as moved at the suggestion, and I suspected that even if I had been there to stab him, none of them would have tried to stop me.
‘Absolutely not, Highness,’ I assured him. ‘The tragic matter of Her Majesty’s death has been resolved by a court of law, and those responsible for the atrocity have been dealt with. We are here to talk, that’s all.’
‘And what of Colonel Lan Roskov, the head of the royal bodyguard? What of poor Davik, my own personal secretary? Both seem to have disappeared. What of them?’
‘They will be replaced, Highness,’ Ailsa said, and showed him a smile. ‘All in good time. There is urgent business you need to attend to.’
‘I need to attend to mourning my wife,’ he snapped.
‘Of course, Highness,’ she said, ‘but affairs of state must always come before personal considerations, as I know you well understand. This afternoon the queen’s death will be formally announced to the people. She suffered a seizure of the heart at first light today, most sudden and unexpected. You will at once assume the regency until your daughter is of age to take the throne. Is that clear?’
The prince took another sip of tea, and this time his hand shook enough to spill it onto the lapel of his magnificent crimson coat.
‘My daughter, on the throne,’ he whispered.
Perhaps I was mistaken but for a moment I thought he looked truly scared, even more than he had when he thought I was there to stab him.
‘Of course, Highness,’ I said. ‘She is the direct heir, once she reaches her majority.’
‘Of course,’ he repeated, and there was a note of something like despair in his voice just then. ‘Of course she is.’
‘Where is she?’ Ailsa asked. ‘I need to speak to her.’
‘My daughter is indisposed,’ the prince said.
‘Be that as it may, I still need to see her. I, ah, understand such things, shall we say, as one woman to another.’
‘It’s not her cursed moonblood!’ the prince shouted suddenly, the bowl of tea falling from his hand to spill on the priceless Alarian carpet beneath him. ‘She . . . forgive me. Forgive me, Lady Ailsa. Please, forgive me. I am . . . I am under some strain at the moment.’
He slumped back into his chair and put his head in his hands, and he said nothing more.
‘Of course,’ Ailsa murmured. I shot her a look, but she shook her head a fraction to tell me to hold my peace. ‘I believe I remember the way to the princess’ apartments. We will leave you to compose yourself, Highness, but you will be expected upon the royal balcony at sundown. The people need to see you. The full military dress uniform with medals, I think.’
She turned then and swept out of the room, and I followed behind her.
Something here wasn’t quite right, to speak lightly of it.
*
I waited in the corridor outside the Princess Crown Royal’s personal apartments while Ailsa spoke to her in private, as one woman to another. There were two more of the armed and armoured Palace Guard stationed there as well, and we ignored each other in stoic silence.
The sound of voices floated through the door, but my hearing had been damaged by cannon during the war and I couldn’t make out the words. I could hear Ailsa’s tone, though, smooth and consoling. The other voice was shrill, edged with fury, and I could only assume that was the princess. I had seen her once before, at a court reception, but only from a distance, a
nd I had never before heard her speak.
Ailsa was saying something, but she was interrupted by a shriek of rage and the sound of shattering glass. There was a moment of silence, then the unmistakable crack of someone being slapped very hard. It all went quiet after that.
A minute later Ailsa came back out into the corridor and motioned for me to follow her, her lips set in a thin, hard line. She didn’t speak, and I took the hint and stayed quiet until we were all the way out of the palace and back in her carriage, rolling down the long path to the private gate.
‘Odious child,’ Ailsa said at last.
She rubbed the palm of her right hand and winced.
‘You hit the fucking Princess Crown Royal?’ I whispered.
‘Yes, I did. If someone had done that more often when she was younger we might not be in this mess now.’
I frowned at that. My da had hit me often enough when I was a lad, hit me and worse besides, and all that had done was make me hate him. I don’t hold with hitting children, not unless they’re armed and they’re trying to kill you.
‘What mess is that, then?’
Ailsa made an irritated noise in her throat and turned to look out of the window.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Forget I said that.’
That made me frown, but she obviously didn’t want to be drawn on the matter.
‘The royal balcony, what was that about?’ I asked, changing the subject.
‘The Prince Regent needs to be seen by the people, as I told him,’ she said. ‘There is a formal balcony at the front of the palace, overlooking the parade ground. It’s only used for ceremonial occasions, royal namedays and suchlike. Once the announcement of the queen’s death has been made in the streets, the common folk will flock there, to grieve and mourn and more importantly, to be reassured that the reins of the nation are in safe hands. The prince will appear on the balcony and wave and be seen in all his splendour, and the commons will be appeased.’
I thought of the weak-chinned man with the trembling hands who I had been introduced to, and I frowned at her.
‘He’s not actually going to be ruling the country, is he?’
