The Red Knight (24 page)

‘Dead. Looked as if he had been killed, quite recently, by one of his own.’ The captain found a flagon of wine and poured a second cup. ‘I’m going to wager that he died a
few hours after Sister Hawisia. Killed by another of his kind, as if that makes sense.’ He shook his head. ‘Then we went west, still following the spore.’ He sat down again, a
little too hard.

She watched him.

‘Then we found the creature.’ He stared at her. ‘An adversarius. You know what they are?’ he asked.

‘Every person of my generation knows what they are.’ She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment. ‘Daemons. The Wardens of the Wild.’

He let another long breath go. ‘I thought they had been exaggerated.’ He looked out the window. ‘At any rate, there were two of them. I can only assume that the Jacks and the
daemons are working together. If they are, this cannot be a random incident – I believe they’re the harbingers of an attack, testing your strength, and I assume that your fortress is
the target. It certainly has immense strategic value. I need to ask you to let my troops in, close the gates, place yourself in a posture of defence, and victual the fortress – call in your
people, of course. And send word to the king.’

She looked at him for a long time. ‘If you planned to take my fortress yourself . . .’ she said. And left it there.

‘My lady, I agree that it would be a brilliant stratagem. I even agree that I might try something like. I have fought in the East – we did such things there.’ He shrugged.
‘This is my country, my lady. And if you doubt me – and you have every reason to doubt me – you have only to look at what my archers are putting up outside the gates of our
camp.’

She looked out the window.

‘You could tell me that there’s an angel of the Lord outside the gates of your camp, telling your archers that I’m the most beautiful woman since Helen, and I couldn’t
see it well enough to believe you,’ she said. ‘But – I have seen you. I can smell the power on you. And – now I understand other things I have seen.’

‘You are an astrologer,’ he said.
I am slow
, he thought.

‘Yes. And you are very difficult to read, as if – as if you have some protection from my art.’ She smiled. ‘But I am no novice, and God has given me the power to look at
souls. Yours is rather curious – as I expect you know.’

‘Oh, God has been very good to me,’ he said.

‘You mock and are bitter, but we face a crisis, and I am not your spiritual mother.’ Her voice changed, becoming sharper, and yet deeper. ‘Although I would be, if you would let
me in. You need His spirit.’ She turned away. ‘You are armoured in darkness. But it is a false armour, and will betray you.’

‘So people tell me,’ he said. ‘Yet it’s served me well so far. Answer me this, Abbess. Who else was at that manor?’

The Abbess shrugged. ‘Later . . .’

The captain looked at her for a long time. ‘Who
else
was there?’

She shook her head. ‘Later. It is not the issue now, when I have a crisis of my tenure. I will not fail. I will hold this place.’

He nodded. ‘So you will put this fortress in a posture of defence?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘This minute.’ She raised a hand bell and rang it.

The elderly nun came immediately.

‘Fetch the gate warder and the sergeant at arms. And ring the alarm,’ the Abbess ordered in a firm voice. She went to the mantel on her fireplace, and opened a small box of ivory
carved in the Cross of the Order of Saint Thomas. In it was a slip of milk-white birch bark.

‘You’re sure about this?’ she whispered.

‘I am,’ he said.

‘I need to share your assurance,’ she said.

He sat back. ‘I could not make this up. You say you smell the power of the phantasm on me—’

‘I believe that you have met and defeated another monster. It is possible that you found a dead Jack.’ She shrugged. ‘It is possible I have a traitor inside my walls. But once
I cast this summoning, the Master of My Order will come with all his knights. He will probably demand that the king raise an army.’

‘That’s is just about what is required here,’ said the Red Knight.

‘I cannot have them come to my aid for nothing,’ she said.

The Red Knight sat back. His back hurt, and his neck hurt, and he felt the dull anger of complete fatigue. He bit back a retort, and then another.

‘What will satisfy you?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I believe you. But I must be sure.’

He nodded. Irrationally angry.

‘Fine,’ he said. He rose, and bowed.

She reached for his hand.

He stepped back. ‘No time like the present,’ he spat.

‘Captain!’ she said. ‘You are not a small child.’

He nodded, held onto his anger, and stalked out.

‘What did she say?’ Tom asked.

‘She wants us to find their army, not just the signs of it,’ the captain said.

Tom grinned. ‘That will be a mighty feat of arms,’ he said.

Ser Milus had the banner, and the rest of his entourage was ready to mount. But the sergeant at arms stood in the gate with only the postern open. They would have to walk their horses out the
gate. Even while cursing this delay, the captain commended the old witch. She took his warning seriously.

‘Captain!’

He turned to see Amicia running barefoot across the courtyard.

‘Let’s go,’ Tom grunted. ‘I’ll get a convoy together.’

‘Twenty lances,’ the captain said.

‘Aye,’ said Tom. He winked as he left.

Amicia reached him. He felt her through the aether as she came up. He could smell her, an earthy, female smell, clean and bright, like a new sword. Like a taste of the Wild.

‘The Abbess sends this,’ she said levelly. She held out a small scroll. ‘She says she will take immediate steps, so you are not to think yourself ignored.’

He took the scroll from her hand.

‘Thank you,’ he said. He managed a smile. ‘I am tired and difficult.’

‘You have fought for your life,’ she said. Her eyes held his. ‘There is no fatigue like that of fear and war.’

He might have denied it. Knights don’t admit to fear. But her gentle voice held an absolute certainty. It was healing. It was forgiving.

It was admiring.

He realised that he had been holding her hand the whole time. She flushed, but did not snatch it away.

‘Lady, your words are a tonic to a tired man.’ He bowed and kissed her hand. It
was
a tonic. That or she had cast a spell on him unnoticed.

She laughed. ‘I am no lady, but a simple novice of this house,’ she said.

He tore himself away from her, or they might have stood far too long in the courtyard, with the first sun of the spring resting on them.

He read the scroll as he rode down the gravel path from the main gate to the Lower Town. Much of the path was walled, and some of it paved, making a fortified road, itself a defence.

Someone had put a great deal of money into this fortress.

He cantered through the town. His shoulder didn’t hurt at all. But his right hand tingled for another reason entirely, and he laughed aloud.

Harndon Palace – Desiderata

Desiderata led her knights and ladies out into the spring.

It was early days yet, and even the heartiest of her bold young friends would not slip into the river naked today. But it was warm enough to ride fast, and to lay a picnic out on blankets.

Lady Mary directed the laying out of the food. Spontaneity, with Desiderata, often involved careful preparation and a great deal of work. Usually by Lady Mary.

Lady Rebecca Almspend, the Queen’s bookish secretary, sat behind her, ticking items off as they were unpacked. They were old allies and childhood friends.

Rebecca kicked off her shoes. ‘It
is
spring,’ she said.

Mary smiled at her. ‘When a young man’s fancy turns to war,’ she said.

‘Too true. They’ve left us for the first foe in the field, and that is enough to turn any girl’s head.’ Rebecca frowned. ‘I think he’ll offer for me. I
thought he might before he left.’

Mary pursed her lips, looking at the two stone jars of marmalade – the Queen’s favourite. She could eat a great deal of marmalade. ‘Did we really bring just two
jars?’

‘Honestly, Mary, the stuff costs the earth – oranges from the south? White sugar from the Islands?’ Rebecca tossed her head. ‘She’ll have no teeth when she’s
thirty.’

‘No one would notice,’ Mary said.

‘Mary!’ Rebecca was appalled to find her friend weeping. She slipped off her stump, and threw her arms around Mary. She was widely known as
sensible
, which seemed to mean that
all of them could cry on her shoulders. In this case, she stood with her stylus in one hand and her wax tablet in the other, clutched to her friend’s back, feeling a little foolish.

‘He left without so much as a good-bye!’ Mary said, fiercely. ‘Your hillman loves you, Becca! He’ll come back for you, or die in the attempt. Murien only loves himself,
and I was a fool—’

‘There, there,’ Rebecca muttered. Over by the willows that lined the river, there was laughter – the flash of the queen’s hair.

‘Look, she has her hair down,’ Mary said.

They both laughed. The Queen tended to let her hair down out of its coif at the least excuse.

Rebecca smiled. ‘If I had her hair, I’d let it down too.’

Mary nodded. She stepped back from their embrace and wiped her eyes. ‘I think we’re ready. Tell the servants to start laying plates.’ She looked around at the trees, the angle
of the sun. It was beautiful – as spring-like as could be imagined, like a scene in an illustrated manuscript.

At her word, Mastiff, the Queen’s man, stepped out from behind a tree and bowed. He snapped his fingers, and a dozen men and women moved with the precision of dancers to lay out the meal.
They were done in the time it would take a man to run to the river.

Mary touched Mastiff’s elbow. ‘You work miracles, as always, ser,’ she said.

He bowed, obviously pleased. ‘You are too kind, my lady,’ he said. He and his team melted back into the trees, and Mary summoned the Queen and her friends to lunch.

The Queen was barefoot, lightly clad in green with her hair free down her back and her arms bare in the new sun. Some of the young men were fully clad, but two of them, both knights, wore simple
homespun tunics and no leggings, like peasants or working men. The Queen seemed to be favouring them – and the short tunics and bare legs did show off their muscles to good advantage.

When they sat on the new grass to eat, though, they had to fold their legs very carefully. This made Mary smile, and meet Rebecca’s eye who grinned and looked away.

Lady Emmota, the youngest of the Queen’s lady’s, had her hair down as well, and when the Queen sat, Emmota sat next to her and the Queen pulled the girl to lie down with her head in
the Queen’s lap. The Queen stroked her hair. The young girl gazed at her with adoration.

Most of the young knights were unable to eat.

‘Where is my lord?’ asked the Queen.

Lady Mary curtsied. ‘And it please you, he is hunting, and said he might join us for lunch if the hart allowed him.’

The Queen smiled. ‘I am second mistress to Artemis,’ she said.

Emmota smiled up at her. ‘Let him have his blood,’ she said.

Their eyes met.

Later, while the young men fenced with their swords and bucklers, the women danced. They wove wreathes of flowers, and danced in rings, and sang old songs that were not favoured by the church.
As the sun began to sink, they were flushed, and warm, down to their kirtles, and now all of them were barefoot in the grass, and the knights were calling for wine.

The Queen laughed. ‘Messires,’ she said, ‘none of my ladies will get a green back for the quality of your fencing, however much we ladies may be affected by the rising sap of
spring.’

The women all laughed. Some of the men looked crestfallen. A few – the best of them – laughed at themselves and their fellows alike, but none of them answered her.

Rebecca put a hand on Mary’s bare arm. ‘I miss him too,’ she said. ‘Gawin would have given her a witty answer.’

Mary laughed. ‘I love her – and she’s right to speak. Emota will fall into the first strong arms that will have her. It’s all the light and the warmth and the bare
legs.’ At a motion from the Queen, she walked over and offered a hand to draw the Queen to her feet. The Queen kissed her lady.

‘You arrange everything so well, Mary.’ She took her hands. ‘I hope you had a pleasant day as well.’

‘I am easily pleased,’ Mary said, and the two women smiled at each other, as if enjoying a private joke.

Riding back, they rode three abreast, with the Queen flanked by Lady Mary and Lady Rebecca. Behind them, Emota rode between two young knights, her head back, laughing.

‘Emmota is vulnerable,’ Mary said carefully.

The Queen smiled. ‘Yes. Let us break up these laughs and long glances. It is far too early in the season.’

She straightened her back and gave her horse a check, turned in her saddle like a commander in a tapestry.

‘Gentles! Let us race to the Gates of Harndon!’

Ser Augustus, one of the young men in a peasant’s smock, laughed aloud. ‘What is the forfeit?’ he called.

‘A kiss!’ called the Queen, and she gathered her horse under her.

One of the squires blew a horn, and they were away into the fading spring light in a riot of colour and noise, the last of the sun on brilliant greens and blues and brght scarlet, gold and
silver.

But the Queen’s kiss was never in danger. Her southern mare seemed to scarcely touch the road as she skimmed along, and the Queen was the first horsewoman in her court – back
straight, shoulders square, hips relaxed, and the two of them seemed like a single creature as they led the excited pack of young courtiers along the road, over the bridge, and up the long hill,
recently lined with fine houses, to the gates of the city.

The Queen touched her crop to them, first of all the pack by two lengths, and Lady Rebecca was second, flushed and delighted at her own prowess.