Blaze of Silver (23 page)

“I have already rested and I know what he said.” Ellie was just as firm as Petronilla. “I am going to Mainz.”

Petronilla did not bother to argue. “Well, you are in luck,” she said placidly. “Your brave horse may not be able to carry you—we have had to put poultices on her poor legs because she is quite worn out, like you—but a group of nuns has arrived. They have come down through Mainz and some of them are to return there. I shall go, too. It seems that there is trouble afoot with far-fetched stories about thieves running off with your king's ransom. The emperor has need of our prayers. You can travel in a wagon.”

Ellie pulled on her cloak as if she might run to Mainz.

Petronilla pursed her lips. She should have said nothing. She tried to distract Ellie with Sacramenta. “Never mind about that for now,” she said. “Men are always making things up. Now, I am sure your nice horse can be led on the journey. That shouldn't tax her too much. Calm down, my dear, or you'll collapse and make yourself truly ill. All will be well. Go and see your horse.”

Ellie tried to walk but her muscles were stiff and she was light-headed. She tried to ask again about Mainz but Petronilla refused to be drawn.

“We leave in half an hour,” she said, “and before we go you must eat. If you don't eat you can't come. Here is bread and beer. Take it.” Ellie began to refuse. It would choke her. Petronilla crossed her arms and then, because her expression was just like Old Nurse's, Ellie did as she was told. Next, the nun produced a jar of liniment and made Ellie sit as she rubbed it into her legs and then she inspected the arrow wound. The scar was lumpy but the color was good. “It seems to me that you have been very fortunate,” Petronilla said. “Now, you must promise me something. You must promise that you won't take one of our horses and ride to Mainz on your own.” Ellie's heart sank. Petronilla had read her mind. She fiddled with crumbs of bread. “Promise,” Petronilla insisted gently. “It's for your own good. You are not fit.” And she would not leave until Ellie reluctantly nodded.

As soon as Petronilla allowed it, Ellie hurried to Sacramenta. “I know just what you feel like,” she murmured, looking at the mare's legs and caressing her ears. Then she badgered the nuns to start the journey. It was unbearable not knowing what was happening to Will and Hosanna.

To her relief, the nuns caught some of her urgency and began to mount on mules and palfreys but as Ellie exhorted them not to delay, she heard the unmistakable sound of squabbling. One of the covered carts was rocking and many of the sisters crowded around it were giggling. Ellie frowned and walked closer. She knew that voice. Pushing her way through, she pulled away some sailcloth hangings and found herself face-to-face with Marissa.

They stared at each other blankly. “What are you doing
here?” Ellie couldn't help herself. Marissa stopped midkick. “You!” She was momentarily taken completely aback. Then she grabbed at Ellie. “Will? If you are alive, is he? Is he? Oh, tell me. Tell me now.”

“He's gone to Mainz,” Ellie said quickly, and watched as Marissa sank down to the floor. “We've just been in Mainz,” she muttered, “we must have passed him.”

“But you didn't see him?” Ellie shook her arm. “And you didn't hear anything? Marissa, I'm so afraid.” Ellie bit her lip. She was not used to confiding.

Before Marissa could say anything more, the nun attached to her, thankful for some respite, sighed and rubbed her shins. “I don't know who you are,” she groaned, “but if you know this demon, maybe you can take her. We caught her as a runaway. She said she was coming to a convent here, but nobody knows her at all so my abbess decided to take her back to Mainz where the archbishop can decide what to do with her. Good luck to him.”

Ellie had no time to say anything before another nun disagreed. “You keep her with you,” she ordered. “Offer your bruises up to the Virgin Mary. The girl's got to be punished.”

Marissa did not hear either of them. She was staring at Ellie's hair. What on earth had happened to it? Had Ellie cut it off to prove something Marissa could not even imagine?

Ellie swiftly climbed into the wagon just as it began to roll. Amid the noise of the wheels, the two girls remained silent until Marissa's jailer, now that her charge was quiet at last, was rocked to sleep by the wagon's motion and began to snore.

It was then that Ellie told Marissa all that had happened. She restricted herself to the plain facts, trying hard not to reveal any of the deeper things that had passed between herself and Will. Marissa remained expressionless, revealing nothing of her own tale until Ellie spoke of Amal and the Old Man of the Mountain. Then she jumped.

When they stopped for the night at a convent on the road, Ellie fretted. How many miles had they covered in the day? Ten at most? Directly after supper she went to the stables, hoping to find that by some miracle Sacramenta's legs were cured and the mare was ready to speed away. But there was no such miracle. Instead, under the light of the lanterns, Sacramenta was lying down and seemed disinclined to get up even when Ellie called her name. Ellie left her to rest.

It was on her way to her own straw pallet that she heard Marissa hissing. All the nuns lay in a long line, close together, and the girl was lying on her back, her jailer still tied like a millstone to one arm and one leg. “We've got to get away from these people. Are Sacramenta's legs really too bad to ride?”

“Yes.”

Marissa tussled with herself. “Untie me.”

“Oh, for goodness' sake, Marissa!” Ellie had no time for this.

“Do you care about Will?”

“Of course I do,” Ellie exploded. “You know that.”

“Then untie me. I can help him.”

“You?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

But Marissa shook her head. “If you don't untie me, I won't tell you anything.”

Ellie did not know what to do. It seemed inconceivable that Marissa could help Will, but if Will really was in trouble over the ransom, could she take that risk?

She hovered. She could see Marissa tense as a strung bow even though she was pretending not to care. “If your help involves stealing horses, I promised I wouldn't,” Ellie said.

Marissa turned, her eyes full of scorn. “Well, if that's the way you want it.” She raised her foot to kick her jailer awake. She needed somebody to fight.

“No!” cried Ellie suddenly, and then dropped to her knees, praying that she had not woken anybody. “I'll do it, Marissa, I'll do it, but if it is just a trick, I'll never forgive you, never.”

“You'll need a knife,” was all Marissa said.

Ellie wasted no more time and soon Marissa was free, exultantly attaching her jailer to the next nun in the row. She and Ellie did not exchange another word until they had crept into the stables, found the least sleepy-looking horses, and were peering out of the barn door. The grooms were busy warming their toes, so it proved surprisingly easy to slip across the yard. Once behind the buildings Ellie, hoping that she would be able to justify breaking her promise to Petronilla, helped Marissa to mount and then vaulted on herself. I'm not breaking my promise to Will, she said to herself. Or at least not really. He told me to stay with the nuns, and Marissa is a nun. Then she concentrated only on getting away. It was several miles before Marissa slowly told Ellie of her visit from Hal and Elric and, through
the dark, she could feel Ellie's tears, half of joy that they were alive and half of anxiety as to what had happened to them since. Then Marissa slowly revealed something else and when she had finished, it was gratifying to find that her great rival for Will's affections was absolutely astonished.

Hunger brought Will around at last and he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He had been brought to a small room with a rush-strewn floor and a pallet for a bed. He was unwashed but blankets kept him warm and at his feet, now bare, somebody had placed a smooth stone that had clearly once been warm. He woke up quite slowly and stretched out his hand, thinking it would touch Hosanna. When his knuckles hit a clammy wall, his eyes jerked open and he tumbled off the pallet, making for the door. It was locked but through the window he could see straight out into the yard below and the sight was not reassuring. Hal was standing by the water trough and his expression was so grim that Will's heart crashed. Hosanna was dead. He was sure of it. His sense of loss was overwhelming but he fought it. He must get to Richard even though he too could be dead by now, for it was quite possible that Amal had done his work in the night. Ignoring the food placed on a table in the corner, Will banged on the door until he heard soldiers shouting at him to shut up. This made him bang all the more and
he quieted down only when they thrust spears through the bars. But he could not sit still and eventually, hating himself, he wolfed down the food, choking as he suddenly heard Richard's name. The king was dead. He felt it. He threw the remains of the food away.

When the door at last opened, Will was prepared for anything except for the sight he now saw. Richard himself came in, shrouded in a cloak. Will dropped to his knees at once, but when the king lifted a warning finger Will got up again and waited until the door slammed to pay his homage. Now Richard pushed back his hood. In the daylight, his hair was a little grayer and his cheeks a little fuller than Will remembered, but when Will's hand was clasped, he found Richard's grip had lost none of its strength. The king, however, was still as remote as he had been in the cathedral.

The key turned in the lock. They were alone. Still the king gave no gesture of warmth and Will's heart sank. “Am I a prisoner?” he asked. He was not sure what else to say.

Richard walked to the window. “We are all prisoners,” he said pleasantly enough, but as if Will were a stranger. “I can wander about the emperor's court more or less at will but I am not free since the ransom is not paid. My mother will arrive tomorrow, but it seems we will wait in vain for the wagons in your charge.”

Will went cold. The reason Amal had not yet killed Richard was clear. If Richard died before Queen Eleanor's part of the ransom was delivered, she would turn straight for home, for Richard's subjects would not be happy to exchange their silver for a corpse. Only once the Queen's silver was safely in the imperial vaults
would Amal strike. But now something else began to agitate at the back of Will's mind, to niggle.

“So much silver,” the king continued, his tone almost whimsical, “is surely a temptation for any man. Our mutual friend Kamil, where is he now, Will? Your squire and your boy arrived with a very garbled story. Then, just yesterday, one of the emperor's servants told us how the imperial soldiers were set upon by your men and how he followed you and watched as ships sailed from southern ports taking my ransom to Saracen coffers. It seems that Kamil was not quite the man of honor we thought he was. That is a pity, but perhaps nothing better can be expected of such people. But you, Will …” He stopped and looked Will straight in the eye. “I am told that you have been corrupted by visions of untold wealth and the power that wealth brings. I am told that you are here now only because Kamil double-crossed you and took not just his share of the silver but yours also before abandoning you. His treachery seems to know no limits.” Richard paused. “And yours, Will? How far does that stretch? Let me guess. I think you are here now either with some preposterous fairy tale of your own or simply to beg my forgiveness. Frankly, I don't know which would be worse.”

Will flushed with anger. “That is what you were told,” he said, “and you choose to believe it?”

Their eyes locked and Richard came very close. “The thing is, Will, it doesn't matter what I believe. It matters only what the emperor believes, for he has the key to my prison door. Without the silver in your charge, I must remain here at his pleasure.”

Will's whole face blazed. He wanted to shake
Richard. However, he would not beg the king to believe him. He would not stoop to that. He would say what he had to say and the king must judge for himself. Will was acutely conscious that he barely looked like a knight, wrapped in a blanket and with a face streaked with filth. Nevertheless, he would remember his father and bear himself like a de Granville. “Sire,” he said, knowing he had only one chance, “I ask only that you hear me to the end. Then you must decide whether I am to be trusted or not. The imperial servant you speak of is not German at all. He is a Saracen called Amal. He sought us out at Hartslove, saying he was sent to deliver the horse you gifted to my brother, Gavin. You must remember the horse, said to be the fastest in the world? If you look, I expect you will find her in the imperial stables. We took this man for a friend, never suspecting that he would turn Kamil into a conspirator. Some of what he told you is true. Kamil did wish to steal the ransom because Amal persuaded him that he could stop it from being used to pay soldiers to kill his own people. Surely that is something you can understand?” Richard made no movement at all. Will went on, more urgently now. “Kamil's actions were treacherous. They were. But he himself was a victim of treachery. The ship waiting for the ransom did not belong to Saladin's followers but to Saladin's enemy, the Old Man of the Mountain, who bears a grudge against Kamil. It's neither the Saracen leaders nor the emperor who is Amal's true master, but the head of the Assassins.” Richard crossed his arms. His eyes were still cold as marble.

Will chose his next words very carefully. “And there is deeper treachery even than that, sire, treachery that
goes against every grain of Christian chivalry.” It was an effort to speak quietly for his veins ran hot, but nobody except the king must hear him now. He spoke very distinctly so that there could be no misunderstanding. “I wondered why, sire, when soldiers disguised in the imperial colors helped Kamil to commandeer the ransom, there was no pursuit. Why did we see nobody? But now I know the answer. The soldiers who helped Kamil were not
disguised
as imperial soldiers: They
were
imperial soldiers.” Richard caught his breath and Will pressed on. “It's so obvious, sire. If the ransom vanished, then the emperor could keep you his prisoner and you could do nothing about it. You would be powerless. The truth is that the Old Man and the emperor are in this together.” Will found it harder and harder to keep his voice steady. “But there is something worse, sire, something that even the emperor does not know about, for the Old Man keeps his darkest secrets to himself. You are not to be kept a prisoner. Once the queen's silver has arrived, you are to be found dead with Kamil's dagger between your ribs. The Old Man knows that the emperor will be angry, for you are of much more value to him alive. But what does he care? You see, the Old Man wants Kamil to be thought of as a murderer. With his dagger stained with your blood, Kamil's name will be blackened. It will be assumed that he slipped in silently and carried out the Old Man's orders, like every other good Assassin. I suppose the Old Man reckons that the ransom silver will soon dry any tears the emperor sheds on your behalf.” Richard frowned. Will spoke faster and faster. “Sire, you must see. Your death will complete the Old Man's revenge. By using Kamil's
knife to kill a king, he can ensure that Kamil's name will be denounced among all honorable men, whether Christian or Muslim, until the end of time. It will be said he betrayed everybody, that he was a man of no value and no quality: that he belongs only among the damned. That will be the Old Man's final triumph.”