by Dave Duncan
Hwæt segst—“What sayest thou?”—is another appeal to the Wyrds, who are always reluctant to be invoked, so I did not expect him to find acceptance on the first attempt. He made no mistakes, though, and after a few minutes his grin returned, so he could feel it working. When he had sung the final words, he reached out with his right hand—Eadig was normally left-handed—and pointed at a tile: cen, which means torch, and stands for the Latin C, or K. After a moment he pointed at another: yr, or bow, meaning Y. By then I thought I could guess what was coming, and sure enough the next two were nyd and ing, so together they spelled out cyning—“king.”
But he did not stop then. The Hwæt segst rarely delivers more than a couple of words, and sometimes only one, so I watched intently to see what followed. Only when Eadig’s finger had spelled out another five letters did he point to the blank tile that signified the end.
“Am I done?” he asked.
“You are, and very well done, too,” I said.
He pulled off the blindfold. “What did they say?”
“Cyningswice.”
His face fell. “I don’t know what that means!”
“I’ve never met the word itself,” I admitted, “but I know what it means. You know Hlafordswice, don’t you?”
His eyes grew large in the candlelight. “Treason?”
“Betrayal—a man betraying his lord, or a woman her husband. That’s what the Normans call petty treason. So Cyningswice is betrayal of your king, which they call high treason.”
Eadig stared at me in horror, eyes and mouth wide.
So our mission must be far more important than I had dreamed, and certainly more than King Henry suspected. If he had consulted Enchanter General Aubrey de Fours, or another of his senior sages, surely they would have warned him that there was high treason in the air? In that case he would certainly have sent the regent with an army.
But then I realized that Enchanter de Fours wouldn’t know a futhorc from a pitchfork, and no one had made the Hwæt segst work for hundreds of years until I managed to remove its trip wires and Guy Delaney had deduced the best way of using it. In foretelling at least, Eadig and I were better enchanters than the enchanter general. The king did not know what we knew, but we knew more than we could handle.
chapter 4
as ordered, sage and adept reported for duty outside the castle gate at sunup the next morning, with our distinctive capes hidden away in our baggage beside a day’s rations kindly provided by the academy.
We did not have to wait long, for Sir Neil and his squire were the first persons to emerge after the portcullis was raised, with the rest of the troop close behind them. Eadig and I fell in behind, as before. The young knight was undoubtedly keen and had his followers well disciplined, but after a while I began to wonder if he was over-zealous. If this was their fourth or fifth day in exactly the same formation, knight paired with knight, squire with squire, and the two men-at-arms together, they must all be longing for a change of company and conversation. We were in friendly territory, after all, with no expectation of attack.
Again I concluded that this was probably Neil’s first independent command, and he was not just anxious to succeed, but terrified of getting it wrong.
We rode through mostly forested country, in a northerly direction, along what was clearly an old Roman road. Most of it was in fair condition, for the king insists that his highways be properly maintained, but some stretches were so broken up that the traffic ran alongside it, on the usual strips of dried mud. Lincoln might still be our destination, for it had been a Roman town. I wasn’t going to ask, but I was growing increasingly frustrated by my lack of information.
Although the morning was already hot, the trees shaded us from the sun, and I was enjoying the ride, my only problem being to hold Ruffian back. He wanted to kick dust in all the other horses’ eyes.
Cyningswice? High treason. It made sense and yet somehow it didn’t make sense. Just because the king was in Brittany did not mean that England was without a government. In his absence the justiciar, the earl of Leicester, acted as regent. So if Henry heard rumors of treason in the heart of his kingdom, surely he would just order the justiciar to investigate? Why send one of his familiares to look into it, and a youthful commoner at that? A threat such as that should merit a senior nobleman and two hundred knights. Was our mission merely a sham, to humor some courtier that his worries were being looked into, or that his grandson had been given an important mission, as Eadig had suggested?
The Wyrds would not be deceived. If they said I was going to meet treason . . . But they hadn’t, of course. It was Eadig whose destiny they had foretold.
Had I known about treason sooner, I would have brought much darker curses with me.
An hour or so into the ride, when the horses were being allowed a restful walking pace, Squire Piers dropped back to tell me to report to Sir Neil. At last!
I rode forward and we greeted each other with a blessing. Piers gnawed his mustache for a moment before he said more.
“His Grace sent me on this expedition, Sage. He has reason to believe that there may be enchantment involved. He told me to enlist you to advise me on that topic. But he definitely intended me to be in command. I am, you understand, one of His Grace’s familiares.”
So was I, although I had more sense than to say so at that point. The king had sworn me in by that title when he received me at Burton Castle, but familiaris could have many meanings: royal troubleshooter yes, but also servant, friend, or family member. I had no illusions that I counted as one of his intimates, most of whom would be high-ranking noblemen. I suspected that the exchequer lacked a category of “peasant boys being educated in devil worship at royal expense,” so the king had just lumped me in as a miscellaneous pensioner.
“A very great honor, Sir Neil. I have never doubted that this is your mission. I have no ability, ambition, or authority to give orders to belted knights. Consider me just another of your weapons, like your sword or dagger. I can be deadly if necessary, although I prefer not to be.”
“Why not?” He seemed genuinely surprised, even disapproving, which confirmed my suspicion that Sir Neil had not been chosen for the originality of his thinking.
“It is our way, sir. To do serious harm to people usually requires darker powers than we are willing to invoke. Also, we prefer not to draw attention to our art.”
He glanced at me to see if I was in earnest, and then nodded reluctantly. An ambitious young knight would do everything he could think of to attract attention, pirouetting on the very brink of suicide. “Your friends did well by you last night?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Herbal matters, mostly—the safe dosage of rhubarb in a case of extreme constipation, and so on. Gossip about the constable’s habit of taking liberties with his servant maids. Sir, they did not pry into my business, and I did not mention it.”
“That is good. This is a very delicate matter. As your dark arts revealed to you, our destination is Lincoln, a sizable town in the east. I understand that it includes one of the king’s great castles.” He waited for a comment, so I said, “I have heard of Lincoln, of course, but never been there.”
“The constable of the castle is Lord Richard de la Haye.”
“And is he the person you have to investigate, sir?”
“That remains to be seen. He inherited the position from his father, but the fact that the king left him in charge of one of the major fortresses in England would indicate that His Grace trusts him implicitly.”
Neil was still very reluctant to tell me anything, so I just waited hopefully until he had swallowed a few more doubts.
He continued, “The sheriff of Lincolnshire, Sir Alured de Poiltona, also resides in the castle. The accusation was so vague that it might apply to him.”
On the face of it, he would be a more likely suspect, simply because anyone suspecting serious wrongdoing anywhere in the entire co
unty ought to report it to the sheriff himself. Back then sheriffs were the men who administered the laws. A few years after this, King Henry reduced their duties and transferred much of their power to his itinerant judges. But at the time of which I write, a sheriff was a mighty man indeed.
I still did not speak, but I must have nodded.
“You have heard of him?”
“No, sir. Is he also one of His Grace’s highly trusted supporters?”
“The rule of law in a major city and county would not be entrusted to anyone whose loyalty was in doubt.”
“May I ask a question?”
“Provided it is relevant and does not touch upon confidential matters.”
Saints preserve me! “How sure is the king that there is enchantment involved?”
Sir Neil did not shrug, but his tone implied indifference. “It was hinted at. The gist of the letter was that someone of high rank was plotting with some of the king’s enemies.” He paused. “You keep nodding.”
“I have a theory, Sir Neil. No magic, I’m afraid, just guesswork.”
“Tell me.”
“A very delicate matter, you say, involving one or even two of His Grace’s most respected servants. I have been wondering why he would entrust a tyro like me with the task of advising you on magic in such an affair. I am a qualified philosopher, but I have almost no experience. Two years ago, I met Aubrey de Fours, the enchanter general, when he came to Northamptonshire in attendance on the His Grace. I don’t know if the king visited Lincoln on that occasion, but he must have been there several times in the twelve years he has reigned so far. It seems likely that most of the important people in this area must have met the enchanter general and his helpers. Could it be that His Grace wanted a sage who will not be recognized? Me, for instance?”
I thought for a moment I was about to see Sir Neil d’Airelle smile, but he didn’t. He unbent slightly, though. “It seems you can be deadly, Durwin of Helmdon! You worked this out without magic?”
“Um. Almost without magic, sir. Last night my cantor, Adept Eadig, at my direction, performed a minor incantation seeking guidance . . . The warning he received was to beware of high treason.”
Neil made the sign of the cross.
“And,” I continued, “there had been no discussion of treason before that, so he wasn’t playing games—not that he would. So we now have two independent reasons to suspect major wrongdoing in Lincoln.”
“And can you suggest why the king sent me, not a man of higher rank?”
For the same reason that he had chosen me—that he was a nonentity. I must be careful how I said so.
“Undoubtedly because he has faith in you, sir. But could it be because you have never visited this part of England before?”
“I have never visited his English domains before,” Neil confessed. “And His Grace told me himself that this was why he had chosen me. You were very clever to work that out, Sage.”
My word, we were making progress! If he thought my feat of intellectual prowess worthy of admiration, he ought to try analyzing a three-voice pre-Christian enchantment written in futhorc. “Thus you will profess to be arriving in Lincoln on some very minor business so that you do not alarm the plotters, if there are any such plotters?”
Now it was Neil who was nodding, and his manner was definitely thawing. “Exactly what His Grace suggested.”
Because if he hadn’t been told to do it that way, Neil would have marched into Lincoln with banners flying and trumpets blowing. I already had a lot of respect for the king’s wits. I had very little confidence in Sir Neil’s. He still might start flaunting his authority. And whose idea had it been to have him lead such a train? Was he planning to take Lincoln by storm? Did he think his army would protect him from enchantment?
“Officially,” he explained, “I am recruiting bowmen for the war in France, a trivial task. The king stressed that my real commission was not only very important but must be kept entirely secret. The only men with me who know our true purpose are Piers, my squire, who happens to be my brother, and my deputy, Sir Vernon Cheadle, the one riding the piebald. You will not, therefore, discuss it, nor will you reveal your, um, calling, while we are there. Look out for signs of enchantment and let me know what you find.”
If he thought he could dismiss me like that, I would have to put my foot down—the one shod in iron. “With all due respect, Sir Neil, that won’t work.”
Glare. “Why not?”
“Because, even if the constable is innocent of the charges and as loyal to the king as the king’s own right hand, he will certainly employ a house sage, if only to attend to the health of his garrison. You agree?”
Neil nodded grudgingly. “I suppose so.”
“Whether or not he is plotting treason, he may employ several enchanters. No matter how carefully I guard my tongue, they will unmask me in a few hours, and there went your cover, Sir Neil. A flunky sent to recruit bowmen does not travel with an enchanter.”
He did not like that. We rode in silence for a while, but it was a fine day for a ride, as I have said.
“What would you suggest then?” The question sounded as if it hurt.
“I need more information, sir. If I am to be of any assistance to you at all, you will have to take me into your confidence.”
“I have told you everything. On the face of it, Lincoln is a most unlikely place to hatch a treasonous conspiracy. The shire itself is peaceable and far from any unrest; it is bounded by swamps and marshes to north and south, and there is nothing east of it except, eventually, ocean. The Scots and the Welsh can be difficult, but it is mostly His Grace’s many French domains that cause him trouble: Normandy, Brittany, Aquitaine, even Anjou itself. Not to mention the king of France.”
Better! Then came another long pause.
“But?” I prompted. “King Henry did not send you to inspect the swamps and marshes.”
“About ten days ago, His Grace received a warning that the castle had entertained several unlikely visitors this summer. Some notable nobles have called in at Lincoln, for no known reason—even some from France who own no estates in England and therefore have no honest reason to be here. One is known to be a confidant of that perfidious dog, King Louis. Another is certainly an accomplice of the rebellious archbishop, Thomas Beckett, and may even be a papal legate. Any comments so far, Sage?”
“Just that the last place to look for a conspiracy might be the best place to hatch it. And that a simultaneous uprising at half a dozen places in His Grace’s empire might well overwhelm even him.”
“It might indeed.”
Clearly, if I wanted better information I ought to be using a brazier and branding irons. “And who warned His Grace to suspect trouble brewing in Lincoln?”
“An informant known to the king, a doughty knight of advanced years, but barely literate. He was obviously unwilling to entrust such deadly accusations to a scribe. His letter was hardly legible at all, and certainly not as clear as could be wished. He included a cryptic comment that there was magic involved. This is why you were conscripted to assist.” He shot me an inquiring look. “What say you to that, sage?”
I could say that it sounded as if the king put very little stock in the old warrior’s accusations. He had delegated the matter to a jackanapes knight, backed him up with a whippersnapper enchanter, and gone back to worrying about more important matters, like sieges and rebellions. I would have expected His Grace to put more trust in his sheriff, Sir Alured, than he did in the twaddling of an aged and onetime doughty knight. I didn’t say that.
“Magic makes the problem a lot worse than it would be without it.”
“Why? What could magic do in such a situation?”
My head spun at hearing such ignorance. “If it were black enough, it could rally legions of demons against us. I need to think about this, Sir Neil. Could we resume this discussion later, please?”
Given leave, I dropped back to the end of the column. Squire Piers spurred his hor
se forward to resume his proper place at the head; I thought he had been relieved to see me. And Eadig was trying to hide a smirk without much success.
“How went your little chat with the noble squire?” I asked.
“Pissy. He kept asking what we did all day at Helmdon and was it true that Saxon girls would spread their legs for a single mug of ale. Stuff like that. Then he wanted to know what sort of magic I could do.” He paused, but I waited, knowing there was more to come. “And then he scoffed and said we was all just fakes.”
“And?”
“I said, ‘You see that crow up there?’ and killed it.”
“Oh, did you?” Curses were definitely not included in official varlet training at Helmdon. “And who taught you to do that?”
“Er, rather not say.”
I could not help smiling and suddenly we both laughed.
“Normally I would rip your hide off for that, Adept Eadig son of Edwin, and strangle you with it, but under the present circumstances that may have been an excellent move, and very helpful.” Undoubtedly the squire was now reporting to Sir Neil that even that baby-faced pipsqueak back there could kill things by pointing a finger at them. “What spell did you use?”
“Mori vermes.”
I was relieved to hear it, because it was fairly harmless, and I had learned worse when I was an adept. It is what is called a Release spell, meaning that it can be chanted beforehand and then applied just by repeating its name, as fast as loosing an arrow from a drawn bow. The other sort, those that must be chanted anew every time, are more common, usually much more complex, and are known as Repeat spells.
“Unless the branch was quite low, you probably didn’t kill it.” I said. “And never rely on Mori vermes to deal with anything truly dangerous, like a rabid dog. If you must use it on a man, aim for his eyes. It will blind him for a few minutes and hurt like hot vinegar, so you’d better be a mile away before he gets his sight back.”
And then, because I was not Sir Neil, I took Eadig into my confidence and told him the whole story of our mission, as I had just learned it. We were, I admitted, facing a very serious problem, and I had not brought enough rolls with me on this mission, so I might have to send him back to Helmdon for better armament.
