Updated 7/14/24

Part 6

Chapter 27

Owakar

Owakar whispered Words of Life to those that could hear him in Lorness,

[Love consists in this: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as the atoning sacrifice for sin.]

Even though the Warrior was away manipulating his latest plaything in Farr Castle, the gloom remained over Lorness as his minions stirred up misery. But the Book of Life always provided encouragement for himself, and sometimes for the earthly followers of J’shua in the Density.

His luach came alive. Line after line rose up. There would be a wedding in Caswell.

“Why is this of interest?” Owakar muttered to himself, flicking through the glowing words.

More words, more words, then finally, David Otual’s name was large and illuminated. He poked it to learn more. The son of Rebekah and Jonathan would marry soon.

“Will they go? Do they know?”

The Otual’s son had attracted the Warrior’s eye. Owakar sent a message to Temana, a lead guardian in Caswell. “Do you have everything in hand?”

“Peace, Owakar, you’re not the only competent one. We are ready to help them.”

Contrite, Owakar responded, “Yes, of course you are. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t. The family has become special to me. But they don’t stay in one place like most of those entrusted to us.” The prayers of each Otual echoed from the Book of Life on Owakar’s luach. And it reminded him of the passage:

[Keep me from the snares which they have laid for me, and the gins of the workers of iniquity.]

Owakar paced up and down stone path.

I will need help. Certainly Rebekah will go. No sense of self-preservation in that woman. But will Jonathan attend?

He swiped and swiped looking for any information to help him plan for this fiasco. The Warrior will his minions there. Most likely, Melazera’s spies have informed him.

This is a disaster.

Chapter 28

Gregory Locke

Gregory Locke picked up the next document from the pile that had to be dealt with. A letter on quality paper in the all-too-recognizable font used by the Black Robes.

What now?

Breaking its wax seal showing the crest of Caswell, he was surprised. It was not another request from one of his siblings’ or daughters’ husbands seeking his support for this venture or that. Nor was it offering him the ‘unique opportunity’ to invest in some harebrained scheme that anyone with an ounce of practicality would reject. It was a wedding invitation for…

The date was familiar.

However, it was late and it had been a long day, ending with a heated row with his wife, Ellyth. That was, in part, why he was working at night in his private office.

It took a moment to recall, which he blamed on his ill-humor, his recent argument, and the significant quantity of wine he’d drunk.

Who would schedule a wedding at the same time as the Annual Royal Hunt?

The answer all too quickly became obvious when he read the husband-to-be’s name, David Otual. Even in the South, there were rumors of a Jonathan Otual. A Knight of J’shua who was – possibly – leading Mestels in raiding parties against the good people of Freislicht. Whether the stories were true, or just another Melazera lie, did not matter. Too many Northerners put credence in them. Thus, any prominent wedding that family name was associated with could draw unwanted attention.

So why is Drake Caswell hosting a lavish wedding for the lad?

Gregory had met Drake only three times. On the first occasion, Drake had still been a boy. The second had been at the feast celebrating Drake becoming a Knight of J’shua. The third and last had been at Drake’s wedding to Parynna Locke, yet another of Gregory’s female cousins.

Why has my family been ‘blessed’ with so many girl-children? I’ll admit it has allowed us to marry into every prominent family in the South, and quite a few in the North, but would a more even balance of boys and girls have been too much to ask?

Gregory sighed.

It was not that he believed in God, any god. But sometimes, in the dead of night, he found himself asking questions of the stone wall opposite his desk.

It never answered, of course. But it was a good listener.

He read the document again. The crest of the Earl of Caswell was affixed to the bottom of the letter. Therefore, a Locke had to go, otherwise the Caswells could take offence. And that Gregory could not afford.

The current Earl would find any excuse to resurrect his scheme to cut a road through the wilderness from Lexandria to Caswell. An utterly ridiculous idea that would never pay for itself. Not unless another road was cut from Caswell to Farr Castle. And that would take traffic off the already existing High Keep to Fairness Crossing Road. No banker or nobleman with interest in keeping the traffic where it was would back it, and they would also do everything in their power to stop it.

No, Gregory did not want to re-open that can of worms.

It had partially been to derail that idea that he’d suggested the Earl of Caswell’s youngest son – hardly a catch with four brothers between him and the title – should marry a Locke, who came with a substantial dowry.

Who to send?

What if…?

Gregory thought back to dinner.

Ellyth had come in fuming. Instead of moving gracefully, she clomped around the place, putting her whole weight down on every footstep, scaring and scattering servants out of her path. Her expression was still mild, sweet, even compassionate. But it was always her footfalls that spelled out her mood. Something so blatant even the newest servants swiftly learned to avoid her on such occasions.

‘Should I ask, or just wait for you to vent?’ he had inquired.

As expected, she turned on him. Her eyes widened. Her lips pressed tightly together. She stared at the two guardsmen that followed him everywhere, the two ladies-in-waiting that followed her, and the half dozen servants preparing to serve food, drink, and so on. Then, without a word, she sat and indicated they should serve.

The four-course meal was eaten in silence.

Gregory had no intention of saying something that could set her off in front of the servants. Anything could. It would embarrass her, only making the situation worse.

The servants, fully aware of what was going on, served food, cleared away plates, and offered more wine – or anything else – all without a word. Well, almost. A new servant opened her mouth and got out a single syllable before the butler’s eyes flared and he banished her from the room, with a gesture.

In an odd way, it was funny. At least, that was the way Gregory chose to look at it.

It was also the safest, having tried many different tactics over the years.

When they retired to their private quarters and the door closed behind them, she snapped, “How could you?”

He sat on the bed. “How could I… what?”

“How could you suggest that Kel'shan might be a suitable husband for Melissa!”

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you try that with me, Gregory Locke!” she snapped as she began pacing back and forth, her heavy footfalls a drumbeat on the floor. “I know all your delaying tactics.”

“I was trying to work out how you could have got that idea.”

“I… Because you said so!”

“Uh… no… I do not think that I did,” Gregory had demurred, thinking it might not be a bad match. South of the Shining Mountains, Kel'shan was a prince. And blood ties would bring the families together, which could be highly profitable, for both. However, even thinking that too loudly would set Elyssa off even worse.

“Melyssa told me you did,” his wife insisted.

“I most certainly did not tell her that I approved of Kel'shan. We have not even discussed her marriage prospects.”

“She said you approved of him!”

“She may have overheard me say he was an admirable young man. What else would you expect me to say when—”

“You admit it!”

“I was speaking to Kel'shan’s uncle. Of course, I praised the boy.”

“You… what?” Ellyth paused, momentarily still.

“I was speaking to his uncle, Kel’sek. You know I am trying to increase trade between them and us. Kel’sek had asked what I thought of his nephew. I replied. That’s all.”

“I…” Ellyth took a step, a soft one. “Melyssa said you thought he would be a good husband for her.”

“Perhaps,” slipped from his lips.

“What did you just say?”

Knowing he had put his foot in it, he went on the offensive. The only alternative was capitulation, and it was not in him to do that. Not even for Ellyth. “I said that, given you had raised the prospect, he might be a reasonable match.”

“How can you say that?”

Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose. The argument had gone downhill from there. He had, eventually, left the bedchamber to her rather than say something he could not take back.

What if… Melyssa represented the Lockes at this wedding? She could take Sarah with her as a companion, plus the usual small entourage of servants and bodyguards. That would get her out of Lexandria for almost three weeks… if she travels east to Fairness Crossing, north up to the Lion and Tiger, then west to Caswell. That would certainly be a more gentle path than going north and cutting through virgin bush.

What’s more, to arrive on time they will have to leave almost immediately, catching Kel’shan and his uncle off-guard. I have promised to take them both hunting, and been putting it off.

If I surprise them first thing tomorrow, Ellyth can… yes… this will also soothe things over with her. Especially if I can phrase things correctly and she thinks this was her solution. That will give me happy guests, a happy wife, and an annoyed daughter who looks far too greedily at Kel’shan.

Gregory looked out the window at the moon. The sky was beginning to pale. Perhaps he would have Danyth take Kel’shan and Kel’sek hunting. He still had to woo Ellyth around and he was in need of sleep.

Chapter 29

Drake

Garlands of freshly cut flowers hung everywhere. Servants set trestle tables for the townsfolk he’d invited to the feast following the wedding.

Drake bustled about the castle, delighted by his Circle’s well wishes for his friend’s son and bride.

Drake knew David wanted this to be a small affair, but this was a day for celebration. A day to be remembered. A day on which he could indulge a young man he thought of as a son.

He would never have a son of his own. Parynna had informed him she was barren after she lost the baby. He loved her. He would never replace her. So what if one of his uncles’ sons would one day inherit the earldom from him? It was an irrelevance.

Today, he would rejoice.

He regretted he could not share with his wife why he was so caught up in the preparations, but he did not want to cause her pain. He did not want her thinking back to the atrocity that had almost broken them. No. This was his burden to shoulder. He would not let her suffer. And she was so happily engaged in her charities that he didn’t want to distract her.

Of course, the last surprise he still withheld: David’s mother would attend in disguise. He wondered how long it would take for Parynna to identify Rebekah bedecked in clothes and make-up that transformed her into an old crone.

It’s going to be splendid! Oh, she is here!

Chapter 30

Jonathan

New Moon, Late Spring, Woods Outside Caswell

Jonathan tromped through the glade where he usually ran into one of the young sentries. He visited James of the Wood and his boys whenever he passed nearby one of his camps. There was one in the woods outside of Fairness Crossing, Lexandria, and Caswell. He usually found them near Caswell because Drake Caswell, the earl, did not have much of a military presence. The original brothers were now men. James was twenty-one. But they had taken in new cast-off children. This time, he found them outside Caswell. Today he expounded on the creed of the Knights of J’shua.

[Endeavor to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; One Lord, one faith, one baptism, One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.]

When he finished speaking, a boy ran up with a message for James of the Wood. After James read it, he shot Jonathan a face-splitting grin and shared the news of David’s wedding.

Somehow, one of James’ tribe had learned that Jonathan’s son, David, now a Knight of J’shua on his first mission, would take a wife. Further, the earl had offered to hold the ceremony in Caswell, only a day’s ride away. Jonathan wondered how James was so well informed.

With all his heart, he wanted to attend. Yet he knew that if he did, men would be there to ambush him. Worse, if that happened, it would ruin the happy couple’s day and could have them seen as accomplices.

No, the sensible thing is to stay away…or…perhaps, watch from afar.

After eating with the boys, he prayed about it. He received no guidance. All would become clear. Then he would make up his own mind. Pushing the matter aside, he slept.

In the morning, he was sure. He had only one son. It might also be an opportunity to encounter Rebekah. Surely, she would not miss the event either.

Having decided, he spoke to James of the Wood. “I need a way into Caswell, but not as myself. No one must recognize me. It would put my son and his new bride in peril. Can you get me there in time? Do you have—”

“Finally! A way we can repay you, a little.” James beamed. “I’m sure we can help. Come. Look at some things that have…uh, fallen…into our possession.”

“You have not been stealing, have you?”

“No. We merely follow the examples of lords and their stewards…charging a small toll to those who wander through our woods. We don’t seek them out. And we’ve not hurt anyone. And most were more than willing to help orphans.” His eyes twinkled. “You told us Lord J’shua would provide. He has.”

“James,” Jonathan shook his head at the irrepressible youngster, “when there is time, we need to have a long talk.”

Chapter 31

Blackhawk

Steven Blackhawk had visited the local Herald Station earlier that morning. While reviewing the outstanding warrants, he’d learned of a sighting of the two men who’d assaulted Parynna of Caswell. But it was a week old, so it was of no use to him.

However, he’d also learned that the Red Hood had been sighted only a day ago, headed north.  Given this individual supposedly gave away what he stole, he had been the target of all sorts of gossip. Most of it was nonsense. Some said the Hood was a beardless youth. Others claimed the Hood was a young woman. Some even whispered he could be two places at once.

Regardless, the sighting was a useful pretext to gather the men and ride out early. That both the Lockes and the Melazeras had a hefty price on the Hood’s head was an added incentive.

By noon, he and his entire troop were riding northward, up the road from Fairness Crossing to High Keep. Each mile, he sent two horsemen galloping ahead to scout. If they encountered something, they would sound their horns. If not, they would stop at the next mile marker, cooling their horses while the rest of the troop caught up with them.

The sun was almost touching the horizon when Blackhawk heard horns sound.

As one, the troop shifted from a canter into a gallop. In only minutes they came upon three wagons, their trays being covered over with tarps.

“That way,” one of the drivers roared, pointing up the road. “It was the Red Hood.”

Blackhawk signaled for two riders to stay with the merchants as the rest rode on.

They soon came upon one of his riders, stopped by the road, tending his horse. The man bellowed, “Careful, that drecksa threw caltrops down behind him.”

As they crested the next hill, two horsemen could be seen riding in the distance. One of them wore a bright red hood. The other was Blackhawk’s scout. The trooper was closing when a second horseman, also wearing a Red Hood rode into view, trailing a fresh mount behind them.

For a moment, it looked as if the thief was going to try to jump from one horse to another at full gallop, only for Commander Pieter Taelor to crest the far hill.

Confronted with troops in front of and behind them, the two red hooded riders rode into the underbrush.

Taelor’s horn sounded in the distance, ordering both formations back to a canter.

Blackhawk’s scout reached the point where the bandits had entered the undergrowth, dismounted and began laughing. He was still guffawing, tears running down his face when Steven rode up.

“Wha…” Blackhawk began, only to take in an extraordinary sight. The three horses were grazing in the distance, but their former riders dangled from vines hanging down from the trees. Their weapons had fallen onto the ground, just out of reach.

Commander Taelor rode up, took in the sight and he too began laughing.

“Cut them down,” Blackhawk ordered, as he dismounted, still trying to work out how such a thing could have come about.

As the two lads struggled, Steven thought he caught a glimpse of another young face. But when he looked more closely there was no one there.

Taelor walked up beside him. “Quite a catch. I’ll confirm it was your people who caught him, even if you had help.”

Frowning, Blackhawk looked quizzically at the commander.

“It is said, there are lads who live wild out here,” Taelor remarked with a grin. “It is also said they have a code and dislike any who refuse to follow it. According to gossip I heard only yesterday, two such lads thought robbing travelers would be easier than following the code. They used whatever they thieved to buy things for the others… who did not appreciate the attention that brought.”

“A lovely piece of gossip, Commander, but—”

“If you look at the “vines” they are caught in, I strongly doubt they will have grown there naturally.”

Blackhawk nodded. He too had heard parts of those rumors, but had not put them together. If true, it raised many questions. Such as, why did the boys live out here? And, why did they not want to attract attention? “While we are somewhat alone, I have been hearing rumors of your demise. Some are fantastic, some ridiculous. But I got drinking last night, out of uniform, and got mistaken for the person two conspirators were waiting for. The men were very serious.”

“I look forward to questioning them,” Taelor replied.

“They took poison rather than be taken into custody.”

“That… is serious. Thank you for the warning. Does anything need cleaning up in Fairness Crossing?”

“When I saw them die, I left. I can give you the name of the place, but I expect it to be a dead end. There will be nothing to find.”

Taelor stroked his chin. “If I, or anyone linked to me, went to investigate, we would learn nothing. What this tells us, Captain Blackhawk, is someone serious, capable and perhaps well-funded is making plans… and they are willing to kill the king’s highest-ranking officer. Keep your eyes open.”

“I shall.”

“How much do you know of Lorness?”

Blackhawk suppressed a moment of panic. “Not a great deal. Why?”

“Word arrived the day before I left High Keep. One of the Lord of Lorness’ uncles died. The man had acted on Melazera’s behalf for years…”

Blackhawk kept his expression interested but not involved. If the name mentioned was Raenard Melazera something drastic had occurred. He’d acted as one of Gaelib’s enforcers, and was almost as twisted as Caileagh, if you believed the rumors. Or, had witnessed his work up close on too many occasions.

“…his name was Raenard,” Taelor continued. “Some sort of wasting disease. It came on suddenly and there was nothing the healers could do. I was just wondering if you had heard anything about him.”

“No. Not really. I recall hearing some gossip. I do not think he was well liked and you know how people like to talk.”

“You travel in different circles than I. If you hear anything…”

“I will let you know,” Blackhawk agreed.

The two boys, twins, had been hobbled and had their hands tied together.

“Do you want to take them back to High Keep?” Taelor asked.

“I am ahead of schedule. We only left Fairness Crossing two days early because we heard of a sighting of them. I think it would do the men good to return slowly. The boys can walk behind us. Apart from which, there’ll be grumbling if I hand them over to you. If you’ll forgive my saying so, Commander.”

“Nothing to forgive. Oh yes. Given the enlarged size of the army, the King’s Steward proposed bringing in companies of men from the new units as part of the Annual Royal Hunt. Something about a show of force and giving the nobles a visual display of what their extra taxes have paid for. The king liked the idea. That will mean changing the usual arrangements, which will be finalized only after my return. In the meantime, keep your ears open. If someone is willing to kill me, they might be willing to assassinate anyone.”

Blackhawk nodded. Too many of the men had returned to talk further.

In a way, he wished he had gone to see if the Commander was right about the vines. Then, he would not have heard about Raenor. Nor would his mind be whirring with possibilities. Had Gaelib’s uncle been killed by him, on his order, or by someone else? Was Gaelib disposing of those who were no longer of use to him, those who had crossed him, or was he the target of someone else’s plots?

There was only one way to find out, but that would mean going to Lorness. And Blackhawk was not going to do that.

***

Even though he’d little warning of the summons, his jangled nerves had already left him exhausted. His mind teetered between feeling unworthy of the king’s attention to wondering if he’d violated some regulation or custom. He felt as if he’d been in a battle, fought a hundred men, and somehow survived.

Having the king assign him to the King’s Guard was beyond surprising. Being commanded to remain behind and speak privately with the king, he had no words for that. It was beyond any honor he could have expected. Certainly, beyond any he deserved. All he’d done was serve loyally.

He no longer believed Gaelib Melazera was all-powerful. He had as a boy. However, he’d been right to fear the nobleman. The Earl of Lorness was malevolent, violent, and fickle. Blackhawk had seen him turn on too many of his friends without warning. Things that he’d only realized looking back on old memories.

His conversation with King Edal, if it could be called that, provided Blackhawk insights he was still coming to grips with.

He’d always thought Melazera was the sole power behind the scenes. It hadn’t occurred to him there were more: the Lockes in the South, diplomats from foreign countries, the guilds, the Merchants’ Alliance, and so on.

For nearly half an hour, the king had spoken, and Blackhawk had responded with little more than, “Yes, Your Majesty.” Yet the king had encouraged him to ask questions…and had answered them—honestly. Neither Gaelib Melazera nor Caileagh had ever done that. They had never engendered a desire to serve them in return. Yet the king had, without ever asking for it.

All the king wanted was for Blackhawk to do his best and follow his conscience.

Not the king’s conscience. Blackhawk’s conscience.

It was freeing and unnerving.

He fiddled with the assignment letter as he returned to his station. He’d never felt more alive.

***

Later, Blackhawk sat in his room, reading an encoded letter from Melazera. It had been less than a week since his last report to the Earl of Lorness. That he’d received any reply at all was unusual. For Gaelib Melazera to be exhilarated by recent developments was unheard of. It alarmed him.

Despite being written in code, the tone of the missive was joyous, including the phrases “magnificent achievement,” “outstanding coup,” and “beyond all my high expectations.” Such was the praise for Blackhawk on his induction into the King’s Guard.

Then he read something that made his neck hairs stand up. Melazera was “ready for the next phase.” Blackhawk’s concern wasn’t solely for himself. Or, he didn’t think it was.

He had no idea what the next phase of the plan entailed. Something terrible was about to happen—to him, to someone else, or to both. He knew better than to ask questions. That could be fatal. Yet, Melazera didn’t offer details…

Blackhawk pulled Little Soldier’s buttons from beneath his shirt, holding them tightly in his hands.

I can’t break away from Melazera. He would kill me. Nor can I oppose him. It would be suicide.

Yet King Edal is a good man. A man I’m honored to serve. A man who deserves my loyalty. But he isn’t, I fear, able to overcome Melazera. If I don’t learn his plans, I’ll be powerless to stop them. But if I appear more interested, he might make me do more.

Recent visits of Rosewud to High Keep suggested the Order of the Black Robe was growing here. With such a deep pool of acolytes present, Melazera could orchestrate anything.

His stomach clenched. He had no way to infiltrate them without becoming entangled in some trap. Or taking part in one of their deadly rituals. He surveilled the undersecretary of Gaelib Melazera as much as he could, but it was futile.

Blackhawk forced the impotent thoughts aside. Especially the momentary notion of thwarting Melazera’s plan. That was madness.

Chapter 32

Caileagh

Farr Castle

[Insert examples of him lording it over Caileagh. Caileagh worries that she is losing power over him.]

Caileagh had petitioned her spirit guides every night to grant her power over Gaelib again. She begged them with blood sacrifices.

It frightened her when she saw that the Warrior’s will grew in Gaelib. Sometimes she knew it was the Warrior speaking to her, not her lover, not Gaelib. The Warrior disdained her. To the Warrior women were merely toys to toss about.

Finally, she found a passage in an ancient scroll. This told of mastering a lover. She hadn’t noticed it before. She’d never needed such until now.

It was a ritual and a charm that would make Gaelib love her as his own flesh.

[If you fear your beloved leaving, find the one most abhorred by him. Draw the likeness of his face. The more exact the likeness, the stronger the charm will be. Have your beloved burn the image after every full moon sacrifice until the solstice. For the solstice sacrifice, the hated one must be broken and then offered as a blood and body sacrifice. He must be marked with the runes and sigils. Weave a collar of his hair. When you wear the collar, your beloved will feel one with you and unable to displease or harm you.]

She knew who that was. Gaelib abhorred Jonathan Otual more than any other.

Chapter 32a

Blackhawk

Blackhawk was pleased by the latest orders from Commander Taelor, returning via Caswell would take him even further away from Lorness. Being considered a backwater town, he was sure he’d not encounter any who might recognize him as Gaelib’s one-time page. Even better, the detour would mean he’d miss the first days of the Royal Annual Hunt, further minimizing any chance of encountering Gaelib or Caileagh.

As he mounted his horse and prepared to leave High Keep, a runner came sprinting up. “Captain! Captain Blackhawk!” the youth called out.

Steven considered making the lad run a little further. He could see his men betting on how much extra distance he’d make the messenger sprint. But, remembering how officers had done that to him, he raised his hand, ordering the troop to remain in place.

“Captain Blackhawk,” the winded courier gasped out, holding out a missive, “from Commander Taelor.”

Blackhawk took the document, broke its seal and smiled. “Inform the commander that it will be our pleasure to attend as his representatives. The Caswells have provided many proud and loyal officers to the Royal Guard. Off with you.”

The messenger nodded, then turned and began walking back the way he’d come.

“Run, lad! Or, I’ll have you follow us afoot to Fairness Crossing, Caswell and back.”

The boy broke into a run that, Blackhawk knew, would last only until he was out of sight. That Steven had not made the boy chase after them, did not mean he’d allow the boy to be lax.

Standing tall in his stirrups, Blackhawk turned the beast to face his soldiers. “Men, at the instruction of Commander Taelor, we are to represent him – and His Majesty – at a wedding feast in Caswell. It means our stay in Fairness Crossing shall be cut short, but I’m sure,’ he grinned, ‘that having a nobleman pay for your food and drink shall make up for the inconvenience.”

Their roars of approval more than made up for his ruining their betting.

As the troop cantered out of High Keep, they were all in high spirits.

Chapter 33

Gaelib

Gaelib walked the battlements of Castle Lorness. Built by generations of his family, each of its most successful leaders had added some facet of it.

His great-grandfather had doubled its size and, in doing so, rebuilt much of its original interior so that he could move about it surreptitiously. And so, his spies could listen in on conversations in so-called private rooms. Passages that Gaelib had used to great benefit all his life.

His grand-uncle had built a secondary wall around the entire castle, adding larders, barracks and cold storage dug deep into the bedrock. It was said he’d made it invulnerable, immune to being besieged. Those excavations also provided additional places that screams, pleas for mercy and other awkward sounds could not escape from.

His grandfather had, supposedly, done nothing while wasting mountains of baden. Thus, he was ignored as a failure, and scorned by his family. Yet, he had delved even deeper below the castle, creating hidden routes into and out of it. He had built a vast network of tunnels, rooms, barracks, armories and vaults. Through secret doorways, he had connected the castle to the worked-out mines that had been the family’s original source of wealth. And he’d had every builder, artisan, and architect involved in the project killed, to keep knowledge of what he had done to himself.

All of which had been revealed to Gaelib by the Warrior. Including several forgotten half-filled treasure vaults that had been most helpful in advancing his plans. Passages that would otherwise have been lost to time.

The relationship between Gaelib’s father and Gaelib’s grandfather had been a contentious one. Sure he could do better than his “failure” of a father, Gaelib’s father had got his sire so blind drunk that the old man walked off a parapet. [@@@awkward rework] Of course, except within the immediate family, the common story ignored who had got whom drunk, just telling of the old sot falling to his death.

Again, the Warrior had opened Gaelib’s eyes to his own father’s providing an ever so delightfully helpful push, at the opportune moment, in addition to getting the older man drunk.

That revelation had allowed Gaelib to see his father as the petty, weak, needy man he had been. Someone striving so hard to distinguish himself that he undermined his own efforts. Completely unlike Gaelib, who was the master of his own destiny, who had done what was needed to achieve greatness.

Already, Gaelib controlled Freislicht’s wealth as the King’s Steward. And while he could not spend the money as he knew best, he could affect things, quietly achieving what he desired. Things that would improve his kingdom, while making his path to the throne easier and more certain.

And that was before the Warrior’s power had become his.

Now, Gaelib could reach out to any corner of Freislicht and witness what was occurring there. He could dispatch spirits to carry his messages to underlings. He controlled every important element as if they danced for him on strings, like puppets.

He saw himself as a great spider, his webs extending into every corner and crevice. The vibrations along them alerting him to opportunities and dangers. So many strands, connecting to so many operatives. All doing his bidding.

This… this… was the true power that had been bestowed on him.

He closed his eyes, continuing to walk along the battlements, knowing that the inner sight granted to him by the Warrior would keep him safe, would prevent him from making a misstep. The power that surged through him, knowing that doing so was not a risk. It was the merest demonstration of his superiority.

His father had been a weak fool, too eager for power, who’d killed his own sire. Thus, robbing himself of the treasure he could have had. A treasure that was in Gaelib’s possession.

His grandfather had been clever and intelligent, a grand schemer. But he had not taken the threat from his own son seriously. So, he had paid the price. Gaelib understood the lesson there. It was why he would not have a son until he was on the throne. He would not let himself be blinded by not seeing what was right before him.

His grand-uncle’s bones were buried within the foundations of the excavations he’d had dug. He’d been blinded by the “love” of his wife and mistresses, who had conspired against him together. Only for the mistresses to be killed by the wife, who learned too late that without a certain antidote added to her food daily, she too would die. Again, Gaelib acknowledged that emotional connections were weakness. They clouded the mind. Once, as a young boy, he had been blinded by Caileagh. He did not love her. He could not. How could a god have feelings for a mere mortal, no matter how useful she had once been?

Again, the thought crossed his mind.

Is it time to replace her?

No. Not yet. She is still useful. Until then, it would be wasteful to dispose of her.

As for his great-grandfather, he had “fallen” from a horse and been gored by a boar. That idea resonated within Gaelib’s mind. It had a certain… poetry… to it.

Melazeras, Gaelib recalled, did not pass due to old age.

Extending his hands, he encountered the stone crenelation exactly where he expected it to be. Opening his eyes, he smiled. Had his path taken him an arm’s length to the left or right, he could have walked right off the edge.

He had not.

He never would.

He was Gaelib, and the world was his to take at his leisure.

A flicker occurred deep within. Images formed inside his mind. Black Robes being dressed down by… Steven Blackhawk.

Often what was shown was an allegory of the truth, not its base unvarnished nature. Steven had appeared in other visions. Always as an authority figure. Always powerful, imposing, decisive. Always warning him of dangers.

The scene played out. The not-Steven informing the two underlings that they had upset longstanding plans. That they would make Pieter Taelor more suspicious because these buffoons had intended to assassinate him.

Gaelib understood immediately.

This was a warning that all non-essential operations must be curtailed. It would be foolish to risk the greatest prize he’d ever play for, because two nobodies stumbled onto his carefully set stage and upset his preparations.

Yes, I shall instruct that all Black Robe operations cease for the time being. Nothing can be permitted to interfere. Nothing and no one.

Still, he mused, it would be good to see Steven again. But that would have to wait. There was a king to kill. And a prince to undermine, so that he is totally dependent. Then…

Gaelib looked into the future that the Warrior made visible to him, and saw it was… delightful.

Chapter 34

Rebekah

Rebekah bustled through the archway covered in layers of pastel silk in the Lexandrian fashion. She pranced into the hall, calling boisterously, “Hallo, hallo, I bring good tidings from Lexandria.” Waving her hands in every direction, she praised, “How lovely!”

All the decorating ladies stopped to beam with pride.

She introduced herself as Millya Shussel, a distant kinswoman by a marriage long ago. Soon all the women came close to welcome her.

Drake turned from his supervising of the seating of the final guests and bowed his greeting.

“It has been too long since we’ve seen the Shussel family. Please sit here.” He pointed to the Caswell family dowagers who shuffled to make room on the padded bench. Drake looked at the most senior. “Please make Lady Shussel welcome.”

Rebekah bowed her head to them and to Drake. “Thank you, my lord. I’ve brought our family’s bard and a few musicians.”

Drake laughed. “This is wonderful. A very thoughtful gift.”

The five brightly clad individuals were bodyguards provided by Licht Gegen. As was the maid that hovered about, seeing to her every whim.

She had approached Drake through an intermediary a week before. Hatching this plan and making him promise to tell no one, not even his wife, that Rebekah must be in disguise. He loved the idea and provided the identity of Lady Shussel.

The clothes she wore were expensive. A few locks of her long-neglected hair escaped the elegant wimple atop her head. Primly, she tucked them back in.

At a nod, her musicians began playing in the background.

Now Drake brought David over. Her son welcomed her and the other dowagers. She could tell he did not recognize her.

Good, that’s good. You are so handsome like your father.

His beard was a man’s. Golden blond curls touched his navy-blue cloak. He stood straight, taller than Jon.

Parynna Caswell trailed behind them, a pleasant expression frozen on her face. She nodded to this one and that, doing the absolute minimum necessary to meet her social obligation as hostess.

[@@@FIX] “That one would be nothing if any of Drake’s brothers wives were here in Caswell. With all of them elsewhere due to their husband’s postings, she has taken over,” the elderly woman beside Rebekah said.

Lady Caswell was not out of earshot. She slowed while David and Drake continued.

“You’re being far too kind,” another hissed. “If. Do you really believe she knows her place? I think not, she—”

Parynna had stopped walking away.

Alarmed, Rebekah interrupted. “She seems distracted.” The last thing she wanted to do was to be caught between the dowagers and the hostess. “However, it could just be that, raised as a lesser Locke, she simply does not know how to behave around her betters. I must mention it to Gregory when I next see him. Perhaps he could send her a protocol tutor.”

Parynna turned back, glaring at them. But at the mention of Duke Gregory Locke, her lips closed tightly, the color in her face drained, and she stormed off.

Rebekah let out a sigh.

That was a risky gamble.

“Please, please do,” the woman beside her pleaded. “I would love to see that.”

“Well,” Rebekah smiled back, “I shall do so. But it’s been a decade since I’ve encountered him, and it could be another before I do so again.”

The surrounding women all giggled as “Millya” graciously accepted their accolades.

Rebekah returned to examining the crowd, asking questions about this person and that. Her companions were more than helpful and provided gossip and insights that were astounding.

One of them glanced toward an old, bent-over, bearded man leaning against a wall. “Drake really must do something about his older servants. He thinks it a kindness to force such unfortunates to continue working. Even if that means merely guarding some random spot.”

Another interjected, “Still, it’s better than what his wife would do. Dismiss them all and evict them from their homes.”

The oldster never moved from his place. Rebekah kept her eye on him. He didn’t perform any duties. Yet, she couldn’t get a good view of his face.

Is it Jon? His height seems right, but…blast! I can hardly go over there and ask. Nor can I send my maid. If it is my Jon, he could spook and run. Worse, it could lead to his capture.

“How wonderful,” a dowager murmured, glancing at the tall captain who’d flirted with them earlier. “I was afraid Parynna would drive him off in spite. It gives us someone handsome to look at.”

“And ooh, isn’t he a handsome, strapping young lad?” another woman said. Seated behind and to Rebekah’s right, she leaned forward and pointed to a young, flamboyantly dressed merchant. It was James of the Wood.

What the…? Why is he here? Her heart fluttered. Is he helping Jon?

Before she could send her maid to summon James over on some pretext, the wedding music began, sending everyone not already seated scurrying for their places.

Drake took his position at the head of the hall. He was resplendent in his family’s colors, covered by his navy Knights’ cloak.

David, also clad as a Knight, approached and bowed.

He has the noble stance of his father. She sighed. Where are you, Jon? 

Her boy stood straight and tall, awaiting the entrance of his bride. He held his hands flat, fingers pressed against his legs like he had as a small boy, trying not to fidget.

The processional music started as a petite brunette walked gracefully to the dais, her hand on her father’s arm. Cynthia wore a pale blue linen shift decorated with white lace about her hips and small white flowers in her braided hair.

Rebekah giggled quietly, thinking of when she approached Jonathan on their wedding day. Tears streamed down her face, which she dabbed with her scarf.

Ours was a simple affair in the yard. Yet, I was thrilled.

David’s eyes roamed the hall. Then he bowed to honor all those who had gathered to celebrate. He winked at the watching crowd as Cynthia’s father put her hand into David’s.

As Drake wound a blue ribbon around their entwined hands, the happy couple exchanged their vows. Then he said, “We all bear witness to the promises these two have made before the God of Truth. I declare you one flesh. What God has joined, let no man put asunder. Do you have the ring?”

David slid it onto her tiny finger.

“You may kiss your bride.”

David and Cynthia smiled brightly and kissed. When they turned to face the assembly, everyone roared with praise and applause.

Drake beamed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rebekah noticed the old servant leave the room, still without having seen his face.

Is that you, Jon? And what is James doing here? I hope he doesn’t cause a ruckus.

She lost sight of James as the dowager lady on her left began speaking about the last wedding here. She turned and pretended to give the sweet old woman her full attention.

Chapter 34a

Blackhawk

Blackhawk strode through the crowd at Castle Caswell. His troop had arrived on schedule, which had allowed him to present himself to Mardom, the Sixth Earl of Caswell, before the first day of the celebrations were underway. Mardom then left for the Royal Hunt.

The earl had generously provided space for Blackhawk’s troops within his own garrison’s quarters. The only proviso being that Steven made himself prominent in dress uniform throughout the festivities. Mardom wanted it clearly known that King Edal was aware of this wedding festival and had sent a senior officer as his representative.

Fortunately, that possibility had already occurred to Blackhawk who’d had a new dress uniform made while in Fairness Crossing. He was not in the habit of taking such clothing on patrol.

His men had dispersed. With so many people in town, they would find companionship, fools to fleece at dice, and whatever other amusements they desired.

Blackhawk had already spotted an old friend from North Fort, who was now grey-bearded and Mardom’s Captain of the Guard. However, each time they’d spied each other, one or both had been on duty.

As the first day of the wedding edged towards midday, the crowds thickened as commoner and nobleman alike flocked into Caswell.

Unable to stay out of sight without offending Mardom’s desire, Blackhawk had found a prominent perch close to the Caswell family’s dowagers whom he’d praised and flirted with, drawing their praise and lightening their spirits.

The bridegroom – named Dafeed, Daveesh or something like that – entered with Drake Caswell, who was both Mardom’s youngest son and the boy’s spiritual father. Although what that term meant eluded Blackhawk. He’d enquired several times, only go get the oddest replies.

The young man was tall and handsome, had a mop of sand-colored hair, and wore the garments of a Knight of J’shua.

Drake wore the same attire, but cut from much far finer cloth, embellished with flourishes that indicated his station and wealth. Things that, when Blackhawk thought about them, did not fit with what he knew of the beliefs of J’shua’s followers.

Following them was Drake’s wife, Parynna. A woman who brought Blackhawk’s hackles up every time he saw her. Despite being somewhat plain, and having the coloring of a Southerner, she reminded him of Caileagh. Not as smooth or sophisticated, but every bit as dangerous. That she was walking along in her husband’s wake, doing her best to douse each morsel of happiness he spread, was unsurprising.

He nodded to her in a neutral but deferential manner, seeking not to draw attention to himself. However, just as she was nearly passed, one of the dowagers made a snide remark. Only for another to join in, making far darker assertions.

Then some southern dowager spoke up, her voice carrying clearly, unlike those of her predecessors. “She seems distracted.”

Blackhawk cringed. He did not want to be a witness to the impending spectacle. He most certainly did not want to become involved in it. Yet, anything he said or did could only make it worse.

Parynna stopped, her lips compressed into a tiny line, her brows furrowing.

Blackhawk felt he had to do something, so took a step forward. However, before he could put out a hand to guide Parynna away, ask some inane question, or compliment her on her dress, the dowager spoke again.

“However, it could just be that, raised as a lesser Locke, she simply does not know how to behave around her betters. I must mention it to Gregory when I next see him. Perhaps he could send her a protocol tutor.”

Parynna turned back, glaring at her accuser. Her lips pressed even tighter together, causing her mouth to all but disappear, as the color in her face drained away.

Blackhawk too another step. He only had to reach out, touching her arm to draw her attention to him, but something came over him. Instead, he clasped both hands behind his back and formally bowed.

The insulted noblewoman did not notice.

Nor, he hoped, had anyone else.

Parynna turned and strode briskly away.

Blackhawks’ heart was beating wildly in his chest. He should have stayed out of it. Yet, he had intervened. For a moment, Little Soldier’s face appeared within his memory, smiling at him.

Thus distracted, he missed the next part of the exchange amongst the dowagers, only catching, “…a decade since I’ve encountered him, and it could be another before I do so again.”

Covering his mouth to disguise his suppressed laugh, he nodded to the dowagers as he resumed his place. One of them, the southerner who’d spoken so infuriating Parynna, nodded to him. There was a twinkle in her eyes, as if she recognized him, or appreciated his attempted – but oh so foolish – gallantry.

As he settled back into place, he pondered his own actions. He could have stayed out of the matter, but had not.

Why?

Perhaps to help another?

Perhaps to oppose someone who reminded him of Caileagh?

Perhaps because he was no longer willing to stand idly by. He knew Gaelib was up to something. That plans and plots were proceeding, and something momentous was coming.

Perhaps, as he dared not oppose Gaelib, he’d acted against a lesser threat? A danger he recognized, but felt was manageable. Or, was so in comparison to Caileagh… or Gaelib.

And perhaps, once again, the way was clear when it was needed.

Yes, perhaps that was it. The time was coming when he would have to act. If he had not built his courage and confidence, by dealing with smaller situations, he would not be ready when he was called upon.

Chapter 35

Sarah

[Sarah and Melissa arrive at the wedding, with Sarah and Melissa having swapped places for fun

Kel’shan arrives as the two girls are swapping places

The Lockes don’t know that Kel’shan is going to the wedding]

Chapter 36

The Spy

Chapter 37 - 138

Jonathan

Jonathan and another bodyguard dressed as mercenaries followed James, who gave his invitation to the porter.

After the ceremony, Jonathan suppressed a chuckle at Drake’s excess. He moved through the crowd two steps behind and to the left of James, who was dressed as a wealthy merchant. A third man accompanied them. Like Jonathan, he wore the face-covering cowl of a mercenary, dark brigandine armor, and a sword at his belt.

The haughty expression on James’ face was so believable. Yet, that and pouches of baden had seen the two mercenaries find a place in the hall’s rear, where they had stood silently, observing the ceremony and James.

Jonathan scanned the room as if searching for threats to the merchant he was protecting, but if Rebekah was in attendance, he could not find her.

Could she be disguised as well?

No, that was absurd. What would Rebekah know of changing her appearance?

Chapter 37b

Blackhawk

With the actual ceremony over, the crowds were dispersing. They would reassemble in an hour or so for the wedding feast.

Blackhawk had spotted his old friend, Mardom’s Captain of the Guard, ducking out of the crowd and into a nearby guards’ room.

He followed, taking his time to move through the throngs of people, nodding, smiling and saying a few words to this person and that. Only to have to detour around the dowagers, who were latching onto people to “assist” them. Then, he was further delayed by encountering yet another young merchant – plus his inevitable hooded bodyguards – seeking a shortcut to tables that had not even been set up.

When Blackhawk finally reached the far side of the chamber, it had taken an eternal twenty minutes,

His friend was waiting for him, hidden by shadow. “That may be the funniest transit across a chamber that I’ve seen so far,’ the Captain of the Guard chortled. “You could have pushed your way through, using your authority as a captain – when did that happen? – in the Royal Guard. Instead, you should give lessons in manners to some of the younger scamps within this castle. At least, you’d give them the thumping they need, when they needed it.”

“I cannot say I was not tempted,” Blackhawk admitted. “But I am here representing both King Edal and the Royal Guard. Why was this wedding set at the same time as the Royal Annual Hunt? Who would do that?”

“Drake Caswell, and his nephew, David Otual.”

“O…tual… as in Jonathan Otual?”

“Is the lad’s father. However, the Caswells do not believe the rumors spoken about Drake’s friend and classmate. Nor will they hear a word spoken against him publicly. In private, things are different. You are aware of Parynna Caswell’s… defilement?”

“I had not registered she was that Caswell bride,” Blackhawk murmured, wondering if he’d misjudged the woman. Had what he’d put down to malice, been jealously of a young bride? Or, perhaps sadness at the loss of her own child?

“Nor is it spoken of. Her recovery has been long and hard on everyone. Mardom is greatly pleased that the Royal Guard will be making regular patrols. There is talk of a road from Caswell to Farr Castle. Some say to Lexandria. Neither will happen. Despite his pride and determination, Mardom is less than he was. That someone, anyone, could attack a carriage bearing the Caswell crest has shaken him. That the individuals responsible have not been caught eats at him. Unless he escapes the darkness of his thoughts, all too soon one of his sons will become the Seventh Earl of Caswell.”

“Is it truly that serious?”

“It is. Sadly, it is.”

“And what of this David?”

“A good lad whom I’ve known all his life. Trained in the ways of horses, he became a knight only recently. And already has his bride. When will you settle down? There must be many women willing to share your bed and your life. You cannot tell me there is no one special.”

“There was a girl,” Little Soldier slipped into his mind, but not as the child she had been, but the idealized young woman he’d occasionally imaged her as. “She slipped away. I’ve not found another to compare.”

“Steven, it is good to be married, to have children. I know Commander Taelor would look positively on such a development. You’ll not rise higher as a single man. People will wonder what’s wrong with you.”

“I am not yet thirty.”

“All the more reason to demonstrate you are family minded and like the rest of us. You have flown high and fast. That will draw criticism, too much of it out of jealousy. Marry, complain about your wife’s cooking, but never where she can hear of it. Boast of your first child, and how they’re brighter, stronger or quicker of wit than any other. Become like others. Even if you do not feel you are. Especially if you do not feel you are. I do not know what pain you hide, but know it’s there.”

“And what of you? Are you going to remain Captain of the Guard until your beard is white? Will they let you?”

“I have been offered a position as advisor to Drake. Not as prestigious as if to an older brother, but more than enough. All I need to do is capture Parynna’s attackers. I cannot put down my sword until then.”

“Then let me help you,” Blackhawk offered.

Chapter 38

King Edal

Farr Castle [remove anything related to the assassination]

The Royal Court was in residence at Farr Castle. Everyone was invited to the annual Great Hunt in the King’s Forest. Every noble that could attend did, no matter how far they had to travel. Merchants, traders, and street performers congregated too. Even commoners came to cheer on the hunters from afar.

King Edal, beloved by the people, waved to spectators as he rode out for the first hunt. Farrling Wood was full of riders. With banging drums, the beaters in the distance drove the swine toward the hunters. King Edal headed toward his tent. Before it, nobles and their servants loitered about.

“You lot are too noisy. No boar would come this way,” the king complained to the large entourage with him. “Remain here.” His attendant and cousin followed as he found the perfect spot, a clearing with a thick forest behind him providing a yard of shade. “It will probably be some time before we see any movement.”

“Shall I bring more wine, Sire?” his attendant asked.

King Edal raised a hand. “I’ve had enough.”

“Of this swill?” his cousin added. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s ghastly. How could your man serve this? I’ll be back shortly with something drinkable. You,” he snapped at his own servant, “come with me. I can hardly trust you to select a wine suitable for the king.”

“You’re going to ride off without my leave, cousin?” Edal teased.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. I forgot myself. I—”

“Go! You aren’t good company without a fine vintage within. It will be a pleasure to have a few moments of peace.”

Some time passed, ending with a telltale rustling in the bushes.

King Edal smiled. Luck was with him. He’d chosen his spot well. Perhaps the first kill of the day. Lowering his lance, he seated it betwixt elbow and hip.

The boar attacked.

He spurred his horse forward.

The lance struck true, mortally wounding the beast. Yet, it wasn’t done.

A fine specimen, it tore free and turned to face the horse now behind it.

Edal looked for his attendant, who should have been making his own pass at the boar. There was no sign of the man; blast him. Not that he needed him. The creature would bleed out in only moments.

With a smile on his lips, King Edal drew his two-handed sword and waited.

The bleeding boar charged.

The king had his horse dart backward out of the way as he brought the blade down. Its tip effortlessly cut through the animal’s spine, killing it instantly.

Edal circled slowly, inspecting his prize. It was indeed magnificent.

His only warnings were a soft footfall and a glint of light. Then only pain and darkness.

Chapter 39

James

James gestured for his bodyguards to make way for him through the crowd of wedding guests pouring toward the outdoor feasting tables. The happy couple would attend in half an hour, after everyone was in place.

He was pleased with his cleverness. He’d chosen the name Albertus Bekh for his persona today. He knew enough about Tommas Bekh to be sure he’d never visited this castle himself. He had underlings for such deliveries. He always avoided people of high rank. Since it was common for merchants to attend public weddings, it was a perfect disguise.

To show the earl’s love for his people, everyone would enjoy the feast, regardless of their station. But prominent tables for dignitaries were reserved.

James planned to leave well before the meal. All he needed was to make an inconspicuous exit. And not vomit. Drake was exceptional. An exceptional hypocrite. An exceptional bore. And exceptionally blind to his wife’s misdeeds. Whereas she was notorious and dangerous to cross, according to boys he’d met in the town who served in this castle.

He thought things were going well until a maid intercepted him. “Sir, my mistress, Lady Shussel, requests a few moments of your time. She apologizes for interrupting such a joyous day, but has an urgent matter that only you can address.”

James did not recognize the name. He tried to scowl. But the girl was extremely pretty, and he had little experience dealing with such creatures. Tongue-tied, he searched for something to say.

“Excuse me, sir,” another equally lovely servant girl intruded. “Earl Caswell has requested that you join the wedding party at one of the high tables. You won’t say ‘no,’ will you?” She clasped her hands.

Lady Shussel’s maid stamped her foot. “I was here first. Lady Shussel—”

“But I serve the earl. Whatever message you have can wait,” the second snapped back, frowning. “Wait…did you say Lady Shussel? Then this is easily solved. Both are to be seated at the same table. I can arrange for them to sit side by side. Would that be acceptable to your mistress?” the second maid said.

The first girl nodded and dashed off.

James stared at the beautiful maid that remained, trying to think of a way of refusing. Yet, Jonathan nudged him, whispered, “Go along.”

“One of your bodyguards can stand behind you,” the maid continued, “if you feel it is absolutely necessary. The other can eat with the rest of the servants. Or can you send both away?”

James had finally found some words “My father, would think me foolish to send both away. It would be impolite to describe his anger to you, miss.”

The girl averted her eyes and then pointed toward a tent beyond the courtyard.

James motioned for Jon to leave as she led him and his remaining protector to tables that were all too close to the place of honor, where the earl and newlyweds sat.

It seems my bribes were too large.

Parynna

While keeping a pleasant expression on her face, Parynna slipped into a quiet alcove where three of her maids waited. They each had brown hair that had been cut short as punishment for displeasing their mistress. “I have a reward for whichever of you succeeds in the following task. I require dirt on the dowager Lady Shussel. She has offended me. The winner gets the new groomsman as husband, plus four thousand baden, and choice of her new assignment within Caswell. Or, liberty to leave my domain and one thousand baden. I know all three of you wish to depart. However, you are mine until I release you.”

The three young women bowed. Two of them openly showed fear. The last, Shadaya, glanced up with a flash of defiance until she locked eyes with her ladyship. Then the girl gulped, dropping her head again.

“I see you are sensible. The incriminating evidence I require must be significant enough that I can blackmail that old harridan. Go!”