Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1) (37 page)

The remainder of the voyage to Kell was uneventful with the exception of one piece of good news. The calmer waters enabled them to regain their sea legs and reduce the quantity of vomit, all apart from Beth who had a long discussion with Agnes one morning before announcing to the family that she and Zak were going to have a baby. The excitement caused by that bit of news was doubled by the possibility that the baby might actually be born inside the city of Marmoros.

Unlike Puerto Reis, the port of Kell was a river port situated several leagues inland from the actual mouth of the river Savage. The mouth of the river was so wide that it was difficult to make out the shoreline on either bank but volume of water coming down pushed a muddy brown plume out into the sea to mark the river current. There were two other ships at the mouth of the river, waiting for the tide to help them upstream against the flow of the river. The Santa Joanna hove-to alongside them and the crews promptly began exchanging news.

With the rising tide the little convoy moved off, tacking in succession across the width of the river and changing tack several times before the city of Kell appeared in the distance. When they
reached
the city, they found that the wharves stretched for half a league along both banks of the river and many of them were already occupied in the bustling port. However, the merchant Antonio Cortes was well represented in the city and had a large warehouse with its own private quay where the Santa Joanna tied up. For all that Cortes had to be forced to provide them with a ship in the first place, the captain had demonstrated some excellent seamanship and Josep and the others were effusive with their thanks. A small purse of coin changed hands and a keg of mead was unloaded for the crew.

By the time they had the wagons and horses safely on the quayside, it was starting to get dark and Cortes’ agent offered to find space inside the warehouse overnight for the three wagons. Josep declined the offer politely and asked instead for directions to the house of Master Solomon, his main contact in Kell.

“I can tell you how to find the house,” the agent replied. “But Master Solomon won’t be there.”

“Why not?” Josep asked in some surprise. “Where is he then?”

“He left a week ago. Along with all the other Lyenar merchants. They left their stewards in charge of their businesses along with just enough guards to protect their warehouses and other properties and took off with the rest of their guards towards Yarford.”

“Yarford! Why there?”

“Well, I don’t know the whole of it,” the agent said. “But, from what I hear, there’s some new prince who’s rallying the Lyenar people, gathering them together and talking about going to Marmoros and retaking the city. Apparently everybody’s meeting up at Yarford but that’s all I know.”

Josep thought for a minute, hurriedly re-evaluating the risk of leaving the wagons, loaded with their supplies and trade goods, in the care of Cortes’ agent against the risk of leaving them in the charge of grooms and stable hands at one of the local hostelries.

“Do you still have a full complement of guards on this warehouse?” he asked.

“Of course,” the man replied indignantly. Master Cortes would have my hide if I didn’t fully protect his property.”

“And stabling for the horses?”

“Alas no sir. But I do have an arrangement with the livery at the Mariners Inn. Most comfortable inn on this side of the river, sir. And only three minutes’ walk away. I’m sure they would look after you very well.”

“I see. Then in light of the changed circumstances, perhaps I could prevail upon you to look after the wagons and their contents for the night.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

“And if our property is well protected during the night, I’m sure that we would feel well disposed towards its protectors come the morning. If you understand what I mean?”

“I understand the situation perfectly, sir. You can rely on me.”

They gathered their personal belongings for the night and followed the agent’s directions to the inn. Situated two streets back from the actual quayside, it wasn’t hard to find. The Mariners Inn was an imposing three storey building, towering over the surrounding warehouses and with a large entrance courtyard set out with tables and benches. Although the evenings were starting to get cool, a crowd of seamen and dock workers were sat or standing in the yard having an early evening drink and threatening to overspill into the street outside.

It took Josep and his companions several minutes to thread their way through the crowd to the main door of the inn. Inside, the tap room was, if anything, even more crowded than the yard but the patrons were mostly in good humour and, with a little bit of banter and cajolery, allowed the newcomers to push through to the bar. Josep caught the eye of the landlord and enquired about food and rooms for the night.

There were two rooms available on the first floor, the landlord informed him. The best in the inn and at a price which Josep thought was only slightly more than they would have to pay for accommodation in the ducal palace. Sensing the hesitation, the landlord rushed on to assure Josep that the best food in the whole of Kell was included in the price and that he would be pleased to have it sent up to their rooms where they could eat in comfort and privacy.

Josep demanded to see the rooms before agreeing and the landlord led the party upstairs. The rooms were surprisingly clean and airy and the beds looked comfortable with clean linen sheets so they agreed the price after only a little extra haggling. With only two rooms available, the men took one room and the ladies took the other but before the food arrived, Josep said they needed more information so that they could make plans for tomorrow.

“Zak, take the ladies downstairs and listen to what’s being said. Find a corner in the tap room or outside if it’s not too cold and see what you can find out. This has got to be big news and I’m out of touch with it since we boarded the Santa Joanna.

“Seb, you come with me. We’re going to pay a visit to Master Solomon’s steward and see if he knows anything more. Oh, and Seb, bring your sword.”

This brought a warning look from Agnes who had to be reassured that it was only a precaution against footpads who would never in any case, dare to attack two well-armed men on the streets this early in the evening.

Cortes’ agent had given Josep directions to Master Solomon’s house and said that it was about a fifteen minute walk. Most of the way was along lighted thoroughfares that were still fairly busy and it was not until they turned into the quiet street leading to the house that Seb sensed that they were being followed.

“Josep,” he hissed and dropped back a pace before spinning round on his heels to find the street behind them completely deserted.

“What is it, Seb?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. It just felt as though we were being followed.”

“You were. Look behind you,”
a voice suddenly said inside his head.

He looked round at Josep again as three men detached themselves from the shadows and moved out to block the street in front of them. Seb drew his sword and shouted a warning as the men moved in. Josep had also come armed with a sword which he drew now and stepped back slightly to give himself room to use it. The footpads were armed with long knives and cudgels but were cautious of the length of Josep’s sword. Carefully they spread out to come at him from three sides and Seb moved to intercept the one nearest him.

He felt the danger and dropped to one knee as the voice in his head shouted
“DUCK”
and a cudgel whirred through the space that his head had occupied a split second before. Two more men had come out from an alley behind him to cut off any retreat back down the street. He spun round again, thrusting the sword out in front of him and impaling one of the attackers who had been rushing up behind him. The man with the cudgel lined up for another swing as Seb withdrew his sword from the other man’s belly and jumped back a pace. He blocked the incoming blow with such force that the cudgel was knocked from the man’s hand and he quickly reversed the swing, dragging the edge of the blade down his attacker’s face and opening a gash from ear to jaw.

With a scream of agony, the man dropped to the ground holding his hand against his shattered cheekbone and Seb turned to help Josep who had his back against the wall of the villa with the three assailants still nervously trying to avoid the tip of his sword. There was a shout as a door opened in the wall and a man stepped out carrying a lantern.

“What’s going on here?”

“Footpads,” Seb yelled as Josep took advantage of the distraction to pierce one of his attackers through the shoulder. “Send for the watch.”

Hearing Seb’s voice, the nearest footpad turned to face the new danger as Seb almost casually knocked the long knife away and aimed his backswing up and across the man’s throat. With a gurgle, the man collapsed to the ground and the remaining two attackers took to their heels and ran. Seb turned to look for the one whose face he had slashed but he had vanished. At the end of the street Seb caught a glimpse of a cloaked and hooded figure who quickly turned and disappeared round the corner.

The man with the lantern came running up. “Are you hurt, sirs?”

Both Josep and Seb reassured him that they were unhurt as the watch rounded the corner and came running up the street. Taking a look at the bodies on the ground and the clothing and manner of the two swordsmen, the sergeant quickly and correctly assessed the situation.

“Begging your pardon, sirs. It’s not like footpads to attack two gentlemen like yourselves and certainly not in this neighbourhood.”

“I’m not sure they were common footpads, sergeant,” Josep replied. “Can we have some light over here?”

The man with the lantern moved closer as Josep rolled one of the bodies onto its back.

“I recognise this man. We only arrived today on the Santa Joanna, sergeant. This man was one of the crew. And this other one was in the warehouse of Master Cortes where we left our wagons and goods. I think someone was after more than just the purses on our belts.”

“Sarge, got a live one ‘ere. Well sort of live.” One of the constables emerged from an alleyway with the man whose face Seb had slashed.

The sergeant looked him up and down. “Right then. Let’s get some answers. Who sent you?”

“I ain’t saying,” the man said sullenly, still holding his hand to his face.

“I saw someone at the end of the street,” Seb put in. “Wearing a cloak and hood. I couldn’t
get a clear enough sight to tell if it was a man or a woman.”

“Listen, you ain’t bright enough to ‘av thought this up on yer
own,” the constable said. “Gentleman ‘ere says ‘e saw someone down the street. So who was it? Who sent you?”

“I ain’t saying nothing.”

“Nasty gash you’ve got there on your face,” the sergeant said, tapping the back of the man’s hand with his stick and causing the footpad to flinch in pain. “Man could bleed to death from a cut like that. Course now there’s a very friendly surgeon just round the corner from here who might be persuaded to stitch it up… if we was to tell him that you were cooperating with the Watch. Make a neat job of it he would. And you know how the ladies love a good scar.”

The man looked around at the circle of faces in increasing desperation as the sergeant lightly touched his stick against the back of the man’s hand again. “Must be very painful. Cut like that.”

“All right, all right. It were Gomez sent us. Agent down at Cortes’ warehouse. Said we had to take care of the youngster. Said if we could take the old one as well, there’d be a bonus in it for us.”

“And did he say why you had to ‘deal’ with the young gentleman?”

“Dunno
. He muttered something about an incident in Puerto Reis but I
dunno nothing about that.”

“Sergeant,” Josep broke in. “We have left valuable goods in the care of this Gomez down at the Cortes warehouse and I am fearful for their safety. Could you direct me to the house of Master Solomon?”

“Well it’s right here, sir,” the man with the lantern said. “This is Master Solomon’s house and I am his steward but I am afraid the master is not here.”

“Yes I know. My name is Josep Benyahim. I have done business with your master in the past and we came here tonight seeking information.”

“Of course, sir. I have seen your name in the books. Please accept my apologies for not recognising you on sight. Sergeant, I want you to take that man into custody and have his wound treated at Master Solomon’s expense. Then I want you and several of your constables to accompany us to the warehouse of Master Cortes where we will retrieve the possessions of Master Benyahim and bring them here for safe keeping.”

***

By the time they got back to the inn, Agnes was almost beside herself with worry and it took some little time to reassure her that neither of them had suffered any injury. The man Gomez had not been there when they reached the warehouse and the sergeant had to order Cortes’ guards to open up. The wagons and contents appeared to be untouched as yet and Ishak, the steward, had brought horses and servants with them to move the wagons to Master Solomon’s house. The sergeant left a constable at the warehouse in case Gomez showed up and escorted Josep and Seb back to the inn.

The landlord was as good as his word about the food and they were soon in the larger of their two rooms, enjoying a very fine meal of venison stew with platters of fresh baked bread washed down with jugs of ale and wine. When they had finished, it was Seb who spoke first.

“I think I must apologise to you, Josep and to all of you. It appears that my actions in Puerto Reis are following me around like a hungry dog and bringing troubles down on all of us.”

“I think you should stop apologising, Seb,” Josep replied. “What happened in Puerto Reis was not your fault. The attack tonight may have been a consequence of it but you acquitted yourself with honour. You killed two of the attackers, wounded a third and almost certainly saved my life.”