Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (70 page)

*

There was a bench in the furthest corner of the walled garden where a trellis framed the area with a barren arch. In spring, this place would be moderately pretty, but now, with that season still a week or so away, there was nothing but bleakness in this place, the only colour coming from the red stone walls of the castle and the patchy blue of the sky above.

John followed the Bishop, sitting on the bench in silence while the older man paced for a while. Then came the questions. ‘You know this for sure?’

‘I was with the boy’s mother from the weeks after Andrew was born until she killed Eachern, almost six years later. I never asked, no. Nor could I, not even as her priest. I think she wanted me to know, but didn’t dare tell me.’

‘But I need to know for certain! The entire rebellion rests on Robert putting this boy on the throne, on the people accepting him as a legitimate heir, both through Jenn’s House and through Eachern’s kinship to Kenrick. Have you no proof?’

‘How can there be proof? Do you think Jenn would leave something like that around? And if there were, Jenn would ensure it was destroyed.’

‘Would she do such a thing?’

John could only sigh. ‘Your Grace, you should know – Jenn will do anything she deems necessary to protect her son and her country, to survive and fight another day. That is perhaps her greatest gift.’

McCauly shook his head again, ‘You must explain how you know, why you are so positive.’

John ordered his thoughts. ‘I cannot give you evidence, Your Grace – all I have is fourteen years of knowing the boy, of watching him grow up, of seeing his relationship with Jenn and with the man he thought was his father, Teige Eachern. I don’t know Robert that well, but I do know him enough to see him in so much of what Andrew does. It’s there in his voice, in the way he thinks. His choice of words and his … deep sense of right and wrong. I
believe his Aunt Bella is aware as well. I know she has no love for Robert, and there are moments when she looks at Andrew and despairs.’

John paused and found McCauly’s hard gaze on him. ‘You would have to see them together, Father. You would have to see Andrew. His looks are his mother’s. His hair is dark, almost black. His eyes are a vibrant blue, the shape of his face oval, but strong. He is already tall, and will grow more, his build tempered both for speed and strength. In his eyes, you see his mother. In every other aspect, you see his father – and you know it must be Robert. Eachern never looked like that.’

‘Are you,’ McCauly whispered harshly, ‘absolutely sure, without any doubt whatsoever, that Andrew Ross Eachern is the son of Robert Douglas?’

John said, ‘Yes. I am.’

McCauly raised his hands in frustration, ‘Then how is it that everybody doesn’t know? If it’s so obvious to everybody who looks at him.’

‘But it isn’t. Since his mother is not around to compare him with, and Eachern dead almost ten years, nobody would guess. Only those who know either Robert or Jenn well would be able to tell, and even then, if they didn’t expect it, they wouldn’t see it.’

‘Oh, by Mineah’s teeth, I can’t tell anyone about this! Robert doesn’t know, does he?’

‘Apparently not – and nor does Andrew.’

‘But why—’

John held up his own hands. ‘I can’t say. So much of what happens between them is directed by the Prophecy. There is a point past which I never dared go, with any of them. I don’t know Robert all that well, but I do know Jenn. She was afraid to tell him, afraid of what he would do. Perhaps she was also afraid of what Andrew would say – though she should have known better. Andrew worships Robert as a hero. It would not be so great a step to love him as a father.’

McCauly put his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. ‘By all that is holy, Robert will put that boy on the throne.’

‘Surely Jenn will stop him.’

‘You think so? I don’t know her that well – and I’ve never met Andrew.’ The Bishop got to his feet and continued, ‘There’s nothing we can do about this at the moment. I can’t contact Robert, and I don’t know what I’d say if I could. And as to the others? I don’t think it’s prudent we say anything for the moment. Not until I have a chance to think on this more. Do I have your word, Father?’

‘Of course, Your Grace.’ John stood. ‘I’m sorry to—’

‘Bishop?’ They both turned at the call from the gallery door to see Payne
coming towards them, Deverin, Owen and somebody else holding back. ‘Daniel’s just come back early. He checked the drop points and picked up a letter. It’s from Godfrey.’

Payne held the letter out to McCauly who took it, his gaze suddenly wary. As if in answer to a question, Payne nodded, putting his hands on his hips. ‘It’s what we’ve been expecting. Bishop Brome is dead.’

Without thought, Aiden drew the sign of the trium over his forehead and shoulders, his whisper emerging from habit alone. ‘The gods grant him peace.’ He paused only a moment. ‘Who is elected Bishop in his place?’

‘There was no election. Brome appointed his successor. The synod ratified the appointment the same day.’

‘Oh, sweet Mineah, not another—’

‘The new Bishop is Godfrey.’

Aiden’s eyes widened in surprise. John himself was delighted. If another man had to stand in McCauly’s place, he would prefer it was his old friend Godfrey than any other.

‘And Kenrick?’ McCauly barely moved. ‘He has accepted Godfrey as Bishop?’

‘It seems he expected it. Godfrey anticipates no trouble, though he writes only the day after his enthronement. There is more in the letter.’

‘Of course.’ Aiden opened the pouch and extracted the single sheet of paper. He read in silence, then folded the letter up, handing it back to Payne, his expression clearly disturbed.

‘Thank you for letting us know. Father John and I will go to the chapel and say prayers for Bishop Brome’s soul, and for Godfrey, that the gods will guide him in his new role.’

*

As the last breath of incense died away, Aiden got to his feet, keeping his hands clasped together. At his age, his knees should be shaky with the hours he’d spent on them, on cold stone floors, praying – but somehow, his body remained strong, as though the gods were determined to ensure he survive long enough to win this fight. In dark moments such as this, that gave him hope.

He sensed rather than saw John moving around the chapel, putting things away, blowing out candles until just two were left, along with the presence light suspended above the altar.

This was a tidy building of round arches and clear glass windows, though not really big enough for Bleakstone. There were memories here, of him marrying Robert and Galiena, before the poor girl was murdered by her brother, Kenrick. Memories of others, too, men who had fought and died at the Battle of Shan Moss.

Brome. The man who had supplanted Aiden as Prelate of the Church in Lusara. The man who had destroyed a Church so needed by the people, and had done so out of his own vanity. But that man was now dead and facing the judgment of the gods. Who was Aiden to judge? Had Brome had any more choice than he? If Aiden had not been imprisoned, would he have had the strength and the skills to hold the Church together? To do what was right? To fight the evil on the throne, and that which lurked behind it?

No. The truth was, Brome, like them all, was a man of the times. He’d had no more choice than Aiden, no more power to change his fate than anyone else.

And equally, there was nothing Aiden could do to stop Robert putting his own son on the throne. By the gods, if he knew … Aiden knew Robert and Jenn had spent one night together before her wedding, how Robert had seen that as a weakness in himself, an inability to withstand the Prophecy. For fifteen years he’d believed he had betrayed Jenn that night. Aiden could well understand why she’d never told Robert, why doing so now would scare her. But would she say something when she discovered Robert’s plans?

The truth was there really was no alternative to Andrew, no other way for Robert to free Lusara and be left with something other than civil war. Still, it seemed appropriate that the bastard son of a rebel and a sorcerer should go on to rule a country known the world over for its vengeful stance against sorcerers.

Straightening, he signed the trium over his forehead and shoulders, then turned and led John from the chapel. He paused long enough to close the doors behind him, then looked up to find Payne waiting for him, leaning a shoulder against the wall, arms folded. Patient.

Long ago, before any of this madness, Everard Payne, Earl of Cannockburke, had been one of Robert’s closest friends. Though living something of the life of a dilettante, his heart had never wavered from the cause of freedom, though his methods might sometimes have been a little unconventional. Even so, despite the years, Payne was certain Aiden could still surprise him.

‘You never say,’ Payne said after a moment, his tone conversational, ‘what it is that’s really worrying you, deep down. After all this time, I can’t help wondering why. More to the point, I wonder why it is you won’t confide in us – or is it perhaps that you can’t?’

‘Deep down?’ Aiden heard John move away a little to give them some privacy. He took a deep breath and laced his fingers together. He had always known that one day he would be expected to answer these questions. Nevertheless, he said, ‘You know my concerns. I have voiced them often enough.’

One side of Payne’s mouth curved up in an ironic smile and he gestured vaguely. ‘Ah, but you see, that’s my point. You only ever voice the concerns we would expect you to have. I am no priest, nor am I a sorcerer – and even I can see you’re hiding something. I simply want to know why you don’t trust us enough – surely by now we have proved ourselves worthy?’

A deep weariness rippled through Aiden, making him sigh. He turned to the diamond-paned window beside the earl and rested his hands against the rough stone embrasure. ‘You should know that trust is not the issue here. Serin’s blood, Payne, you know what Robert’s like.’

‘So you admit you are hiding something.’ Payne tilted his head back :o study the ceiling a moment. ‘And Robert won’t let you talk about it? Am I right? Damn him! He’s been doing this too long on his own. He’s forgotten how to treat his friends, how to work with us. Doesn’t he know—’

Aiden watched the younger man quickly fold up his anger with sharpedged discipline. There was once a time when such discipline would have been beyond him.

Payne returned to the point. ‘You’re worried about Robert, and him fighting Nash. You think Robert won’t survive? That he can’t beat Nash?’

Aiden swallowed hard. These were the shadows of his nightmares, not things to be spoken aloud, even to this man. He straightened up and began to turn away, but Payne’s hand shot out to stop him. Aiden ground out a reply. ‘I can’t know what will happen between them. Not even Robert knows. How can you ask me?’

Payne raised his voice a little and called, ‘Father John?’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘Robert – is he or is he not supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer ever born?’

John remained where he was. ‘Aye, he is. At least, as far as we know.’

‘And Andrew’s mother?’ Payne’s gaze bored into Aiden then.

‘She is very powerful, my lord. Robert believes as powerful as he. But—’

‘But?’

‘Her powers are different to the rest of us. Her skills are in different areas.’

‘But you’d say they’d … complement Robert’s? Would that be a fair judgment?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Payne dropped his hand, but his gaze didn’t falter. ‘You know all this, Bishop. So what are you hiding? If trust is not the issue, then what is it? Is it not in all our interests for us to know? Will Robert mind so much if you tell me?’

Aiden almost laughed at the silliness of that question, but it did at least
break the moment for him. He sighed and turned back to his window where nothing but the dark night could be seen. Stray snowflakes stuck hard against the corner glass. This was not about Andrew at least, and for that, he was grateful. ‘He didn’t want you all to know because he’s not entirely sure about it himself. There was no point in worrying you unnecessarily.’

‘And yet, here we are …’

He’d warned Robert this moment would come one day. ‘There is an ancient Prophecy. Robert was given it as a child and it’s haunted him since then, driven so many of his actions and dominated his decisions. In it, he is told he is destined to fight some one called the Angel of Darkness. And there is another mentioned, called the Ally, which we know to be Andrew’s mother, Jennifer.’

‘And Robert? Is he named in this Prophecy also?’

‘He is called the Enemy.’

‘Enemy, eh?’ Payne pursed his lips. ‘And all this is something to do with Robert being a sorcerer? And Jenn as well? And Nash, I assume you mean he is this Angel of Darkness?’

‘He is.’

‘Then is not Kenrick named also? And what of Andrew? If this is to be the stuff of Prophecy, then surely they are also a part?’

Aiden spread his hands. These questions had plagued him for years, and Robert too. ‘Unfortunately, we know too little about the Prophecy. Robert has spent most of his life studying the history of sorcerers, and I the last eight years. We are desperate to learn its true meaning, and perhaps gain some clues as to what we can do to increase Robert’s chances of beating Nash. Robert even sent his friend Patric to Alusia in search of the last rogue tribe of sorcerers in the hope they might be able to help. It’s been almost a year since we last heard from Patric and to be honest, I have given up hope that he will ever return, let alone bring us good news.’

‘What kind of news could he bring?’

‘I don’t know.’ Aiden paused, the truth sitting in the pit of his stomach like lead. ‘All I do know is that Nash knows more than we do, more than Robert does, and in this game, knowledge is everything.’

Confused, Payne tilted his head. ‘How so?’

Aiden sighed. ‘You mentioned Jenn, how strong she is and how her powers complemented Robert’s?’

‘Yes?’

Unable to watch the as the truth sank in, Aiden turned and began walking back to the main keep. ‘Nowhere in the Prophecy does it say she’s
Robert’s
Ally.’