By Sylvian Hamilton (30 page)

Miles
opened his mouth to protest, but Blaise said, 'Rainard de Soulis is
skilled in devilry. He could put a lich to use.'

'Oh
Christ,' said Miles, looking sick.

They
packed the body over the black stallion's saddle. Bane, efficiently
checking the saddlebags, found two small heavy linen sacks which
chinked richly as he tossed them to Straccan.

Chapter
34

At
the foot of the hill they found two horses and the ground much
trampled. Dismounting they left Larktwist to hold the animals. The
stones bulked tall and pale out of the fog as they climbed the hill.
Reaching the ring they saw that there had been torches lit, on spikes
stuck in the ground, but only one still burned. Straccan seized it
and held it up.

From
an overturned brazier a fan of spilled charcoals spread across the
turf, still sending up coils of smoke which hung in layers in the
circle. Right in the centre of the ring was a stone trough, half-full
of jelling blood. Huddled against one of the great stones was Lord
Rainard, an arrow in his shoulder. The woman lay near the fallen King
Stane, looking dead. There was no sign of the Arab or the archers.
There was a thick reek of blood, and a stupefying sick-sweet perfume
which Blaise recognised as hashish.

'Lord
Christ! Gilla!' With a great cry, Straccan knelt by a small broken
body flung down like rubbish upon a heap of bloody feathers and
carcasses. His shaking hands turned the body over. It was a boy, five
or six years old.

'She's
not here,' said Blaise.

Straccan
knelt by the body. 'Lord Jesus, into your care, receive this soul
..." His voice broke.

The
woman moaned and moved slightly. Blaise stooped over her, drawing
aside the long hair, wet with blood, that covered her face.

Straccan
came to look, stumbling as he trod on something in the grass: it
looked like a cage, trampled, crushed, silvery-grey. He stared at the
woman's face. 'Jiilitta,' he said, his face twisted with revulsion.

Blaise's
fingers had found a great lump above Julitta's ear. 'She'll live,' he
said. 'It looks as if someone struck her down.' He held up an iron
bar. 'With this.'

'De
Brasy?' said Miles.

'I
don't think so. She was screaming, he said, when he fled.'

The
all-pervading smell reminded Straccan of the Arab's room at Crawgard,
and as he breathed it the wreathing smoke seemed to take form, just
as it had there, shifting, changing ... Cold sweat ran down his back
and when he spoke his tongue felt thick and clumsy. He pointed.
'Look! There!'

'There's
nothing,' Bane said, staring.

'I
thought I saw ... It's gone now.'

Miles
crossed himself. 'Lord, protect us!'

'This
air is deadly,' said Blaise. 'We must get out of here, or we'll all
see horrors and run mad!'

They
dragged them out of the ring and down the hill; the woman limp and
unresisting, Soulis struggling feebly and crying out in a foreign
tongue as they secured him. Whatever the language, Blaise recognised
it. He ripped a piece from Soulis's cloak and gagged him with it.

'What
was he on about?' Bane panted, as between them they heaved Soulis
over Larktwist's saddle.

Blaise
shrugged. 'Those were the names of demons; he was calling them to
help him.' His teeth gleamed in a quick smile as Bane crossed
himself. 'Don't worry, my friend. As you see, they have not come.
Still, no point in taking chances.' He tightened the gag and wrapped
the reins round his wrist.

Away
from the stones, their heads began to clear. A damp wind, rising,
tore at the fog, and a bleached moon slid out between retreating
clouds. By its light they could now see the distant top of Skelrig
tower, gaunt against a paler sky.

In
the hall they found the sleepers, who they slapped, pummelled and
threw water over. Dully at first, but soon growing angry, the
garrison listened as Sir Blaise told them what had been found at the
Nine Stane Rig.

'Lord
Rainard is my prisoner, and Lord Robert's sister has no authority
here,' the old man finished. 'Until King William decides what to do
with Skelrig, take your orders from us.'

'Let's
burn the witch,' said the captain of the tower guard who had served
Lord Robert. A growl of approval rose from the others. 'Burn she
will, no doubt,' Blaise said, 'but after a trial, and in Edinburgh
for all to see. You will not touch her, do you hear me?'

They
shuffled their feet and looked resentful, but nodded, and some said,
'Aye.'

They
laid Julitta on a narrow pallet in the small room where, although
Straccan did not know it, his daughter had been confined. The snick
of the new bolt that imprisoned her penetrated Julitta's stunned
consciousness. Her eyelids flickered opened and she stared around the
little chamber. When she tried to sit up there was a savage jolt of
pain in her head. Probing carefully through her hair she found the
lump and winced. Carefully she lay back and closed her eyes. Memory
returned in disjointed images.

Snow
... cold wind in her face, lifting her hair ... The ever-changing
shape descending from the black pit of the sky ... De Brasy dropping
the girl... the Arab screaming ... arrows in flight ... Soulis
falling, crying, 'Now! Kill her now!' Two strides to the fallen
child. She raised her knife and heard Soulis call, 'Look out!' And
knew no more until now.

Whoever
had brought her here would be back soon. She must find a way to
escape.

The
savaged body of the boy they took to the chapel, where Bane and
Larktwist laid it on a bench before the stripped altar and rummaged
around in the priest's deserted room until they found a linen cloth
to cover it.

Lord
Rainard, still trying to mumble through his gag and staring past them
at nothing with eyes like de Brasy's, pupils contracted to
pinpoints, they fettered in the vault. The arrow had pierced muscle
but nothing vital. There was very little blood. Blaise snapped the
shaft, leaving the arrowhead in the wound. They searched him and
emptied his belt purse which contained a few coins, a nail-paring
knife and a small key.

They
searched the place. In Soulis's baggage they found a barrel of gold
and silver coins, tight-packed in linen sacks. The lid was askew and
the bags didn't fill the barrel, accounting for de Brasy's getaway
fund. The silver was of all kingdoms, but the gold was that which
they had seen before, small greasy coins with something like an
octopus stamped on them. Sir Blaise picked one up. 'Irem,' he said,
and threw it back wiping his fingers in disgust. 'How does this
open?' Miles had flung a pile of garments aside and found an iron
casket. It was a marvel of the locksmith's art with no less than
seven intricate locks, each looking as if it required a different
key.

'Let's
see.' Larktwist took it from him and turned it round in his hands,
peering intently at the locks. There was thick dust in all of them.
'Dummies,' he said. 'German work. They think it's clever; as if
anyone could be bothered to use seven keys.' He upended it and
scrutinised the elaborate wrought design on the bottom.

'There,
look.' A small keyhole, hidden in the arabesques of foliage. Soulis's
little key opened it.

Letters.
Spilling them on to the bed, Blaise recognised the seal of the King
of France. There too was the seal of the Lord of Alnwick, Eustace de
Vesci, and the wolf's head of Arlen. Blaise began to read. 'God's
eyes, he would be King of Scots,' he said, amazed.

'Here's
treason. You go on, I'll read.'

Sitting
on Soulis's unmade bed, he went through all the letters while the
others continued to search. At last, in what had been the lady's
bedchamber, Straccan found a little grey dress and a pair of small
scuffed shoes.

He
pressed the dress to his lips and his tears ran, blotting the fabric.
Clutching Gilla's crumpled dress and little cloth shoes, his last
hope died.

Chapter
35

De
Brasy's corpse had been shovelled underground with unceremonious
haste, no one bothering to waste a prayer, for it was certain that
his torments now entertained the fiends, and serve him right. And a
good thing too that someone'd had the sense to hamstring the body
before burying it, lest it walk again. Better safe than sorry. But in
Skelrig's earth-floored chapel, tacked on to the side of the tower
and roofed with leaky old gorse thatch, many candles had been lit.
The floor had been swept, the dust wiped away where the slaughtered
child lay.

Sir
Blaise knelt and prayed before turning the linen cloth back. As he
examined the slashed and inscribed flesh, a shadow fell over the body
and he looked round to see Miles standing behind him.

'Who
did this? Soulis?' The young man's eyes were full of shock and pity.

'He,
or the Arab,' said Blaise grimly.

'Where
d'you suppose he's got to? There was no sign of him at that Rig
place, although de Brasy thought he'd killed him.'

'That
one would not be so easy to kill. He fled, and his countrymen with
him. This poor child may have come from the will. Someone must go
and ask. Has the woman come round yet?'

'Yes.'
Miles gently covered the body again. T sent food and water in to
her.'

'It's
time we talked to her.'

Julitta
denied everything. She had come to Skelrig only to see her poor sick
brother, and then, when he died so shockingly, his terrible overlord
arrived and forced her by threats, to be an unwilling partner in
black sorcery.

Thank
God, good Sirs, that you came when you did,' she said, speaking to
Sir Blaise but turning her green gaze pleadingly upon Miles, who
blushed. Straccan, standing in the shadows by the door, she did not
appear to have seen. 'Will you not untie my hands? You can see I
couldn't manage to eat much with them bound, and I spilled the cup.
It is against courtesy to keep me bound like this. And it hurts,' she
added, her voice small and pained.

Miles
took a step towards her but Blaise blocked his way. 'Leave her,' he
said. 'We know well, Lady, that you are accomplice and creature of
the Baron de Soulis.'

'It
isn't true,' Julitta said pathetically. 'How can I convince you?'

'We
have his letters,' Blaise said. 'Letters from your husband among
them. You may as well speak the truth, Lady, before you die a
traitor's death. I doubt if King John will be any more tender of your
fair body than of any other traitor's. You know better than I what
mercy you may hope for from him.'

She
lowered her eyes, but not before they saw the malevolent gleam in
them.

'As
for your brother, God have pity on his soul, he asked for your help,'
Blaise continued. From his belt pouch he took the icon in its case.
They heard her indrawn breath. 'He asked you to find his friend,
Martin Brus, whom he knew would understand what it was and whence it
came. But you betrayed your brother, Lady. You sent this thing back
to your master. The letter you wrote is in his casket with the rest.'

She
glared her hatred at him.

'Martin
was my nephew,' said Blaise. 'He would have recognised this perilous
thing and brought it to me, and / would not have failed your brother.
His death is your blame, Lady, as surely as if you put your own white
hands to it; and the death of that poor child, butchered in the ring
of stones. Who was he?'

'I
don't know. De Brasy brought him.'

'What
of Sir Richard Straccan's daughter?'

Straccan's
hands clenched and he took a step forward. Julitta spat at him. 'You
damned bone-pedlar! I knew you'd bring trouble! How you fancied
yourself, you interfering fool, sending your servant to my brother,
meddling in my affairs! And you wanted me, didn't you? In your arms,
in your bed, skin to skin ... You burned for me.'

Straccan
bowed his head, shame and revulsion scorching him.

'If
you wanted to avoid his attention, you shouldn't have stolen his
daughter,' said Blaise.

'I
didn't! It was Pluvis, the damned perverted fool! He and de Brasy
reft her from that nunnery and carried her to Arlen castle. I took
her from him and brought her here. What else could I do? Hand her
back to her father and hope he'd do no more than thank me.''

'Where
is her body?' Straccan asked.