Blades of Valor (21 page)

Yet it was not simply this awesome display of wealth and power that caused Katherine to wonder how she might appear to others.

All the people within sight were dressed in colorful silk finery. The women, with long flowing gowns and tight bodices, were assisted by maids who ensured their skirts did not drag on the ground. Some of the bolder ladies wore tall, pointed hats that Katherine could only assume followed the latest in fashion.

The men also had taken great pains to avoid the warm, practical dress of poor peasants. Almost as if to prove their distance from such lesser creatures wearing comfortable loose breeches as did Thomas now, the nobles wore tights beneath their short, brightly colored tunics.

The men and women strolled through the grounds, accompanied by their forced laughter and expensive greyhounds.

It was a spectacle that gave little comfort to Katherine. She shuddered at the prospect of dealing with the intrigue of the high court. But it had to be done, for it might take them days to accomplish what they so desperately needed—an audience with King Edward himself.

Forty

T
he slim courtier sniffed derisively and pointed at Thomas. “Must this servant accompany you
every
day? Your beauty and dress show royal blood, of course, but your choice of manservant …”

The courtier’s voice trailed away. He sniffed again, then continued, “Each morning for the last
ten
mornings, I’ve had to suffer this peasant’s”—the courtier searched for words capable of conveying restrained outrage—“unspeakable
coarseness
in dress and attitude.
What
on earth will the Duke of Whittingham think of me when I present such filth alongside a
lady
such as you? After all, a chamberlain does not receive
just
anybody, and the duke is
no
exception.”

Katherine noticed that Thomas tried to maintain the sullen look of a dull peasant. She knew him well enough to catch the twinkle in his eye and to understand what he thought of the courtier’s yellow tights and foppish manner.

She was glad, however, that Thomas maintained the long-suffering expression of a servant accustomed to abuse, and she smiled sweetly at the courtier. “This servant is my best defense as I travel through dangerous streets.”

“Really?” The courtier arched a critical eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” Katherine replied. “Already, he has killed three men with his bare hands.”

The courtier jumped back slightly in alarm. Thomas growled. The little man scurried farther away.

Thomas growled again and Katherine bit back a giggle.

The courtier nearly fell over himself as he tried to back all the way down the corridor, too terrified to turn his eyes away from Thomas. He reached a corner and disappeared. A moment later, only his head appeared, and he gasped out one last sentence.

“The chamberlain will see you when the bells strike the next hour!” With that, he pulled his head from sight. The pattering of his feet quickly retreating down the hallway was audible enough to draw a smile from Thomas.

“That is not a man,” Thomas said. “It is a mouse. What kind of king surrounds himself with the like?”

“Shush,” Katherine said. “Sir William warned us the royal court would have its share of groveling flatterers and shameless bribe-takers.”

“This one is both,” Thomas spat. “For all the gold you have given him, I cannot believe it has taken ten days just to see the king’s administrator. What price to finally reach the king himself?”

“It matters little,” Katherine said as she sat straighter on the wooden bench. “Not many receive an audience with the chamberlain, let alone King Edward. We cannot—”

She stopped abruptly as two ladies and a nobleman approached. The nobleman bowed at Katherine while the two ladies pointedly ignored her behind their fluttering fans.

“The ladies here are less than friendly.”

Katherine felt her face flush at his devilish grin. But she could not deny his observation. More than once during their hours of waiting in this remote castle hallway had noblemen stopped with flimsy excuses for their sudden presence, only to be dragged away minutes later by attending ladies.

Now they were alone again, and Katherine resumed her spoken thoughts. “Thomas, we will only have one chance to present the reasons for an audience with the king. We cannot fail now.”

“Have you not the book?”

“Of course. You bear the burden of its weight every day as we take it here.”

“Then fear not,” Thomas said. “It is proof enough for the king to take action against the Druids. And no longer will we fight alone.”

“Yet—”

“It is enough. You will tell the chamberlain how we found the book and what it contains. The Druids will no longer move in secrecy, and without that secrecy—their greatest weapon—we will prove victorious.”

Katherine knew Thomas spoke true. She had rehearsed again and again their urgent story for King Edward. No mention would be made of Merlin’s Immortals, only of the Druids. She would tell him that—

The church bells rang, a sound that echoed clearly in the silence of the hallway. Almost instantly, the courtier appeared at the corner. He moved no closer, only beckoned from that safe position.

Katherine followed, with Thomas close behind.

Let my words impress,
she prayed silently.
Let them strike truer than any arrows.

Their yellow-legged guide led them through a maze of corridors, then stopped at an arched doorway. Two guards stood in the recess of the doorway; each solemnly stepped aside at the impatient snapping of the courtier’s slender fingers.

“Go inside,” the courtier said as he pushed open the large double doors. “And expect no more than ten minutes of audience.”

Katherine swept past him, snorting with quiet amusement to see how the servant kept ample distance between Thomas and himself.

The doors shut behind them.

It was a luxurious enough chamber to contain its own fireplace, now filled with white ashes of a fire long past. A portrait of Edward II hung on the wall above the fireplace. Tapestries of deer hunts lined the other walls, and on the far side of the room, an upright divider, much like the dividers used in dressing chambers, hid the rear portion of the chamber. One large chair, with leather armrests and footstool, dominated the center of the room.

No one awaited them.

“Strange,” Thomas said to Katherine. “I assumed the Duke of Whittingham would be here. It seems all these royal riffraff rush to and fro at such a frightful pace, that he would be anxious to hear us and send us off again.”

“Not when he hears my words,” Katherine vowed. “It—”

She was interrupted by the opening of the doors.

A large, stoop-shouldered man in a purple cloak entered the chamber. He bowed once, then stood near the chair and placed one foot upon the footstool.

“You have begged audience,” he said. And waited.

“For good reason,” Katherine said. She drew a deep breath. “My servant carries a book that has lain undisturbed in the Holy Land since the time of Roman soldiers. This book contains proof of a secret circle of false sorcerers and their plot, which now threatens England and the good King Edward.”

Forty-One

T
he large man leaned forward, so that his elbow rested on the knee elevated by his stance upon the footstool.

“My dear child,” the large man said, “if you meant to intrigue me with such a bold opening statement, you have succeeded. Not that you need such a strategy to hold a man’s attention.” He winked.

Katherine bowed in a courtesy to accept the compliment and hoped Thomas would do no more than clench his fists as he did now.

“My lord,” she said quickly, “my words are truth.”

“Indeed,” the man said with a voice of honey. “Continue.”

Katherine began her explanation much as Thomas had when convincing Rashim that a treasure did exist. She told of the time before the Romans conquered, when Druids ruled the land. She told of the Druid secrets of science and astronomy, and their secrecy, and of the Roman general who plundered their great wealth, only to be summoned to the Holy Land, where the wealth lay hidden in the Caves of Letters for so many centuries. She explained how bandits had taken them and how Mameluke soldiers had followed along the shore of the Dead Sea.

The large man held up a hand glittering with large rings.

Katherine stopped.

“How did you come into possession of this remarkable knowledge?” he asked. “And how is it you have just now returned with your story? We lost the Holy Lands to the infidels a generation ago.”

“My father was a Crusader knight,” Katherine said. “Forsaken in the Holy Land when the infidels defeated our armies. I was raised there, hidden among the peoples.”

She gestured to indicate her fine apparel and the jewelry around her neck.

“I do not have royal blood, as your courtier might have assumed. Rather, the treasure that my father found provided me with passage here and with the clothes I needed to gain entrance into royal society.”

The large man closed his eyes in thought. Without opening them, he said, “You and he found this treasure in a cave. You say you were held hostage by bandits and pursued by Mameluke soldiers. How did you escape with the treasure?”

“The bandits were overcome with greed,” she said. “My father and this servant were able to overcome them. We left the bandits in the pit in the cave for the soldiers to find.”

The large man opened his eyes in sudden surprise. “For the soldiers to find?”

“Yes.” Katherine explained how the soldiers had been tricked into following the main party of bandits. “As we left the cave and trekked through the ravine back to the Dead Sea, we dropped pieces of gold and jewelry, so that a trail of treasure led back to the cave. When we reached the shore of the Dead Sea, we turned north. The soldiers, instead of pursuing us along the shoreline, followed the treasure back to the cave, where they would be rewarded by the bulk of the treasure, and by the sight of bandits held helpless beside that treasure at the bottom of the pit.”

“Splendid!” The large man clapped his hands. “Absolutely splendid!”

His craggy face then became a frown of puzzlement. “Did you not feel dismay to leave such wealth behind?”

“Not when it meant our lives to attempt to keep it all,” Katherine said. “Besides, what we could carry ourselves was enough. And …”

Katherine paused. This was the most important moment.

“… and there was the book. The Druid book. It contains—”

“Nothing but the fanciful spinning of a fairy tale!” came a booming voice from behind the divider.

The large man dropped his foot from the footstool and straightened to ramrod-stiff attention.

“Your Grace, the Duke of Whittingham,” the large man whispered. “I did not know …”

“Think nothing of it,” the duke said as he stepped from behind the divider. “You had your instructions. Pretend to listen to these impostors. You could not know that I too wanted to listen in secrecy. But I have heard enough.”

Katherine barely registered those words, for the shock of recognition of the speaker hit her like the blow of a sword.

“Waleran!” The uttering of his name was a low hiss, but it did not come from her lips.

Instead, it was like a curse from Thomas’s, as he too reeled with shock.

“You are dismissed,” the Duke of Whittingham said to the large man.

“Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed quickly, then almost ran from the chamber. The doors slammed shut behind him.

Waleran.
Not even now, dressed in royal robes, did he have a single redeeming feature to lighten his appearance of fetid evil.

“You would do well not to call me Waleran,” he said. “The Duke of Whittingham is my title. And let me assure you, I have ways to punish those who do not address me properly.”

Katherine opened her mouth once, then shut it. Her thoughts were in such disarray that she was unable to find words.

“That is better,” Waleran said with a cruel leer, misinterpreting her silence as obedience. “You might have been able to escape me in the Holy Land, but you shall not be so fortunate twice.”

Forty-Two

Y
ou are such fools,” Waleran said laughing. His teeth were unevenly spaced and black with rot. “So easy to deceive.”

“How … the king’s chamberlain …” Katherine stopped, still nearly faint from surprise.

“How can the king’s chamberlain be a Druid? Or how can the king’s chamberlain accomplish so much as a Druid?”

Katherine nodded dumbly.

“Should it not be obvious? It is I who oversee all the Druid actions. And who better placed to oversee a kingdom than the right hand of the king himself? And why should you show such surprise? You know the Druids have penetrated all levels of society. Surely it would seem logical that a Druid attain the position of chamberlain. Especially when the previous chamberlain was a Druid. As was the previous. The unquestioned authority of this position gives great freedom and—” Waleran snapped his mouth shut and dropped his hand to his sword.

“Young man,” he said to Thomas with a voice promising death, “sit. Yes, immediately. On the floor. From there, you shall have difficulty continuing your attempted slow movement toward me.”

Thomas hesitated.

“Do you think it was an accident that you were searched? I know you do not have a weapon, and mine”—Waleran unsheathed his sword—“is coated with poison.” He paused. “Now sit! Or watch Katherine die.”

Thomas lowered himself onto the stone floor with great reluctance.

“Much better.” Waleran cackled, then broke into a wheeze. When he recovered his breath, he moved to the large chair in the center of the room and placed his sword beside him on the armrest. “I shall satisfy your curiosity. In turn, you shall satisfy mine.”

More like you shall gloat,
Katherine thought.

“As you well know,” Waleran said, “it was I who posed as a fellow prisoner in the dungeon of Magnus during the time that Thomas and Sir William spent in captivity.” Waleran scowled. “During which I overheard nothing about that which we seek.”