Call of the Kings (12 page)

‘Harold is right about history teaching us about the future,’ said Twilight. ‘But history also has a habit of repeating itself.’

Invisible, they were sitting on the highest point of the roof at Winchester Castle, a place Twilight had spent some time some fifty-five years ago when King Alfred’s army had been trapped inside.

‘Plant-lore knowledge and husbandry have always been a great aid to the venefical cause. The long magus said that it was the purest form of sorcery and its knowledge would always bring an extra dimension to any conflict.’

He pointed to a point where a small stream meandering down the rolling hills gathered into a pool.

‘I used three plants mixed together and applied to the water at that very place to dispatch seven hundred Viking.’

‘Seven hundred!’ Tara’s bright green eyes were wide in wonder. ‘What were the plants?’

‘Black hellebore, eyebright, and foxglove, a deadly combination of narcotic, muscle relaxant, and heart stimulant. There’s far too much going on there for a human body to cope with all at once, especially in the quantities I applied.’

‘Hellebore is similar to henbane, the narcotic that Stein uses?’

‘The Viking name for hellebore is henbane.
Hyoscamus niger
variety.’

‘So how are we going to use it to trap Swein?’

‘We’re not. He’s going to do it all by himself. Watch.’

Sure enough, within minutes the door to the castle ramparts was thrown open violently and Swein staggered out. Pushing men violently aside who tried to restrain him, the henbane-driven Swein swayed and staggered up the steep stone steps to the highest rampart, where he paused for a few moments, drew his sword, and screamed abuse at the heavens.

And jumped off.

He bounced three times from lower ramparts before his now broken body shattered on the hard road leading to the castle entrance. He twitched and held onto life just long enough to register and recognize an inner, hated voice.

The final moment of your murderous eternity has just arrived. Good-bye.

‘How, without so much as raising a finger, did you get Swein to kill himself?’ They were back at the compound and Tara was swathed in her two wolf hounds.

‘Simple really. Whilst you were asleep last night, I paid a visit to Swein’s bedroom in Winchester Castle. By the bedside pallet was his stock of dried henbane seeds in a small wooden box. As he snored like an inebriated hog, I replaced them with identical but much stronger seeds . . . of a slightly different persuasion.’

‘What, the ‘jumping off the highest castle rampart’ persuasion?’

‘Almost. More of the ‘complete belief that I can soar like an eagle’ variety.’

Chapter 8

‘Of all my hatreds, the one I reserve for the most bile is that of a veneficus gone wrong.’

Harold II proved to be a worthy king of England. He fought battles and won at Hereford, against Prince Gruffydd, the Welsh king; York and Stamford Bridge against Harald Hardraada, the king of Norway; and repelled an invasion by Tostig. His years on the throne of England saw him father six children with his mistress, Ealdgyth Swan-Neck, and marry another Ealdgyth, the former widow of his enemy, Prince Gruffydd, and daughter of Aelfgar of Mercia. With his wife he had a legitimate son, also named Harold.

Throughout this period King Harold made a point of meeting Twilight and Tara regularly. He knew that at some point in the future he would probably need to call again upon the extraordinary skills held by the enchanters and wanted to ensure that they would at least meet with him and listen. Although Twilight steadfastly refused to side with the king in any battles other than those threatening Wessex, he was happy to keep the relationship on a friendly footing. Meanwhile he got on with the pleasurable job of training the now eighteen-year-old Tara, who was fulfilling all the early predictions her special powers had promised.

Then the great event that shaped the Middle Ages English landscape for all time occurred.

Duke William of Normandy, later known as William the Conqueror, and his invading army arrived off the coast of East Sussex.

Accompanied by his own highly accomplished veneficus.

When the news reached Harold of the impending invasion by the Norman fleet, he was finishing off the remnants of the Hardraada army in Yorkshire, a fact that Duke William was aware of. Having killed Hardraada and extracted an oath of allegiance from his son Olaf, Harold and his army began an enforced march south to meet the new threat. The fact that Duke William of Normandy was Harold’s first cousin and had sheltered him for twenty-five years in exile at his Norman court, was now irrelevant. William was challenging for the throne of England, and for that he must be resisted at all costs. As he set off, he once again sent a messenger to the venefical compound requesting a meeting with Twilight and Tara at the first opportunity. By the time the messenger reached Avebury, Harold and his men had almost reached the coast of East Sussex. Twilight and Tara transformed to Harold’s camp and rallying point at a place called Caldbec Hill.

Seven miles from Hastings.

Harold looked and sounded tired. The long campaign and enforced march from Yorkshire via London to gather some fresh troops had taken it out of him. He smiled a weary welcome at their sudden appearance, conducted, as was now usual, without prior notice of their arrival in the centre of his pennant-flying tent. As was also now usual, he quickly stood down his guards, who, in a heightened state of nervousness due to the situation, had begun to draw back their spears at the sudden appearance of the enchanters.

‘How you’ve grown since we last met,’ the king said by way of a greeting to Tara, who nodded back at him. And he was right. Tara had grown in all directions. The curly red hair had straightened and deepened in colour, she was almost the same height as Twilight, and the green eyes flashed a clear, deep emerald.

‘She had developed into a beautiful woman.’ ‘How does your training go?’ Although the question was aimed at Tara, the king’s eyes were looking at Twilight.

‘It goes very well. She knows more now than I’ll ever know,’ the now all gray- and silver-headed astounder replied. ‘Perhaps,’ said Harold. ‘But somehow I doubt it.’ Twilight inclined his head gracefully and waited. ‘You have seen the ships of the latest invader?’ Harold asked. ‘Briefly. There are a great many of them.’ ‘At least two hundred vessels, my lookouts tell me.’ ‘About half the number you had when you sailed up the Thames for the same reason.’ Tara smiled.

‘But I had a rightful claim on the throne of England through my ancestry. Although he’s my cousin, Duke William of Normandy has no claim at all. Like those I have been fighting in Yorkshire, this is yet another example of aggression and belligerency on the English throne by a foreign power without any claim to hereditary right or lineage.’

Both Twilight and Tara smiled inwardly at this. Kings and their pursuit of power, and defense of it once gained, was a subject that owed everything to skewed, personal reasoning and nothing to heritage or sonship. The one who wields the most power, in this case numbers of loyal soldiers, and uses them well, usually has the crown placed on his head.

Rex non potest peccare,
The king can do no wrong, Twilight mind-sent to Tara.

Rex Domine!
Long live the king, she threw back at him sarcastically.

‘I take it that you called us here to help you against this Norman invader?’ Twilight got straight to the heart of the matter.

‘Yes. Not just for me and my right to remain on the throne but also in defense of this realm against an alien attacker who, if victorious, will soon cast his Norman shadow over your beloved Wessex.’

‘We detected a strong aura within their lead vessel. You are aware that the Norman duke and his force have a veneficus with them?’ Tara asked.

‘There was a rumour that was the case, but I wasn’t sure. It was another reason for asking you to assist.’

‘Take it from us,’ said Twilight softly. ‘They have a veneficus and a powerful one at that.’

‘Then without your help to nullify their sorcery, the odds are stacked against me,’ Harold said gloomily.

‘We will consider all the options,’ said Twilight. Harold didn’t need to look, he knew they’d gone.

It was midnight. The onboard lanterns swayed to the creaking and groaning of the ship’s timbers as she heaved gently against her anchors. The small forward cabin of the Mora, the command ship of William, Duke of Normandy, was crowded. Either side of William sat his childhood friends and closest and most trusted advisors, William Fitz-Osbern and Roger de Montgomery; then came his two half-brothers, Robert de Mortain and Odo of Bayeux, and at the far end Geraldo Le Maitre, the captain of the Mora. In the shadows stood another figure, a vague, immobile gray outline of a tall, hatless man with long dark hair.

The captain was talking about the tides and the best time of the following day to disembark the soldiers, knights, and their horses. They decided that the first-light tide was the best one; the less time the horses spend on boats, the better. The duke looked at Roger de Montgomery.

‘Once the knights are ashore and their boats clear, you will signal all the boats on the right side to land?’

‘They will have to take the beach and come in no more than ten at a time. There isn’t enough room for any more. Five minutes should be enough to unload each boat’s complement of men and equipment.’ Roger de Montgomery pointed to the small beach on the vellum chart spread out on the table. ‘It’s heavy shingle with little sand; therefore the boats won’t get stuck and can be pushed back out to sea quickly to make room for the next ten.’

The duke looked at William Fitz-Osbern. ‘And you’ll be carrying out the same landing on the left side?’

‘Simultaneously, my lord. The beach on this side is also heavy shingle, although slightly smaller. We think a maximum of eight boats at once. We may not get the last few boats off due to the ebb tide, but as they’re the last they won’t be blocking any incoming boats.’

‘How long before our army are all on land?’

Robert de Mortain cleared his throat.

‘It all depends on the knights and their horses. If that goes smoothly I estimate that the entire force will be landed by midday.’

‘And Harold’s army, Odo, how far away are they?’

Odo of Bayeux reached over and jabbed his finger on the map.

‘I had a report just an hour ago, my lord, that their main force of two thousand men is camped here at a place called Caldbec Hill. It is seven miles from our landing area. Apart from a few forward scouts on the hills overlooking their own camp, there are no signs that the English are preparing to engage on the beach as we land or have even worked out where it will be.’

‘Harold and his army are exhausted. They’ve just completed a forced march from the north and need rest. My guess is they will stay in camp for as long as they can. Let’s hope it stays that way for our landing in the morning. Fighting on shingle is hard work,’ said the duke. ‘Is there anything else? If not, get some sleep. We have a big day in front of us tomorrow, gentlemen. A very big day.’

The men filed out of the small cabin leaving just the duke and the thus far quiet gray man in the shadows.

‘Something on your mind, Virgile?’ the duke said quietly.

The tall shadow moved and a young, leonine head with opaque gray eyes over a slim nose and long, straight black hair to his shoulders moved into the light cast by the table lantern.

‘Earlier today I detected two powerful auras over this fleet,’ said Virgile in a deep, resonant bass.

‘Two? Does that mean they have two venefici with them?’

‘It certainly means that there are two of them here, although they may not necessarily be working with Harold. It’s probably an older enchanter nearing his time with a young trainee. You’ll remember that my own reasons for being here are purely pacifistic, to see if some form of peace can be negotiated and Norman lives saved. Saving such lives is paramount for me. It’s a key part of the venefical code, although, as we both know, there are those in our own land who have chosen to ignore it.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘With your permission I’ll talk with them. Later, when you’re asleep, it’s the best time of the day for venefici.’

‘And vampires,’ the duke said with a smile.

‘There are no such creatures, my lord. They exist only in your imagination.’

My name is Virgile and I am a veneficus from Normandy. I come in peace, although, as you know, my duke does not. I would like to meet with you both to discuss the situation.

We would also like to meet with you, Virgile. We are Twilight and Tara. There is a headland some two miles along the beach called Stack Point. We are there now and await your presence.

Virgile’s appearance was instant. Twilight and Tara studied the handsome young French veneficus and he them. Nothing was said for a few moments as they studied each other’s mien and absorbed one another’s auras.

Then Virgile smiled a disarming, youthful grin and bowed.

Twilight nodded, returned the smile, and then spoke in English.

‘I’d like to bid you an unqualified welcome, Virgile. However, such a welcome is tempered by the fact that you accompany a vast fleet of fighting men bent on destroying the lives of English defenders.’

Virgile nodded and replied in his deep, sonorous bass, ‘You are right to temper your welcome so, Twilight. I accompany a duke who is here as an invading force, although I will not be using the enchantments to assist in his endeavours.’

‘You are an adherent of the venefical codes?’

‘Strictly,’ replied the handsome young French astounder. ‘And you?’

‘We do our best,’ Twilight replied softly.

‘Where I can save Norman lives, even one life, without impacting upon the effects of the engagements, I will attempt to do so; otherwise the outcome of the battle is not my concern.’

‘And the life of your duke?’

‘Precious, for he is an inspired leader, but the same applies. The power struggles of such men will always lead them into conflict, and although the siding with them and their cause is not wholly against our code, I have decided nothing is to be gained by my direct intervention. I will, however, intercede if I see him acting unwisely in the matter of his own safety.’

‘Your code and interpretation appear to be exactly the same as ours,’ Twilight replied. ‘This pleases me in that direct confrontation between us can probably be avoided. We do, however, reserve our right to challenge you directly should you go beyond those boundaries . . .’ He paused for a moment before continuing in a low voice. ‘The power difference between us will not have escaped your notice. We have used that difference in the recent past to dispatch a perverted venefica, and will not hesitate to do so again.’

‘I understand. You both have powerful auras, in particular you, young lady.’ Virgile turned his opaque gray eyes to Tara. ‘May I ask how long you have been training?’

‘Five years now,’ replied Tara, speaking for the first time. ‘How long have you been a fully fledged astounder?’

‘Fully fledged and on my own . . . just three years. After fifteen years as tyro to my adored mentor, Marsalis, I placed him under his destiny menhir in the Cromlech at Carnac just three years ago.’

‘The Cromlech at Carnac, eh,’ Twilight said. ‘How many destiny menhirs do you have there?’

‘Almost three thousand in total.’

‘Almost three thousand!’ exclaimed Tara. ‘Your venefical history must go back much further than ours. Can you name all the venefici under them?’

‘Of course. And the deeds they were famous for and those who assisted them, the most prominent of whom also get their own tribute menhir. It is the first thing Marsalis taught me. How many menhirs do you have?’

‘The one-hundredth Destiny Stone at our great site, which is called Avebury, will be mine,’ Twilight replied. ‘I see the difference now. We don’t accord a full stone to those who assisted the venefici. They get a smaller tribute.’