Donnel's Promise (5 page)

The building smelled pleasantly of damp timber and woodsmoke. The large central tub, made of tightly coopered planks, was set between two rows of washing cubicles. Risha stripped and scrubbed down, sluicing herself with a jug of warm water before wrapping herself in the fine cotton shift the inn supplied.

‘Delicious,’ Ciaran sighed. ‘And the perfect antidote to that accursed saddle.’ She rested her head against the tub’s lip and languidly rolled her shoulders. ‘I’ve never much cared for riding but you, my lady, were assuredly born to it.’

Wincing a little at the heat, Risha sank down until the water lapped at her chin. ‘I didn’t learn until I reached LeMarc. Timon taught me.’ She paused, strangely shy of asking the question that pricked at her tongue. They had not yet spoken of Cattra. ‘Did my mother ride?’

‘She did, and enjoyed it. She was far more proficient than I, but her real love was sailing.’ Ciaran’s eyes were closed as she soaked up the heat, her lips curving faintly
at some memory. ‘Against your grandparents’ instructions she would take her small boat out in the bay no matter what the weather and if ever we travelled by ship she was constantly under the seamen’s feet. In a storm she would stand on the deck while the wind whipped her hair and tore at her clothes. She loved the freedom of it, I think.’

Risha tried to imagine it. ‘I have only twice travelled by ship — three times if you count a lake crossing, and even that was rough enough to make me feel queasy, though not nearly so ill as my first sea voyage.’ She grimaced at the memory. ‘I’m in no hurry to repeat the experience.’

‘It can be unpleasant,’ Ciaran agreed. ‘Some people, like your mother, don’t seem to be troubled by it, just as some, like you, seem to adapt naturally to the saddle.’

‘Better a storm at sea than another day on a horse,’ Lyse muttered.

‘I can do very well without either,’ Ciaran answered. ‘But faced with the choice: at least a horse cannot drown you.’

Something flickered in Risha’s mind, like the wild flap of a sail. She pushed it aside, intent on pursuing her questions. ‘Did you know my mother well?’

‘When I was nine and Cattra six I was sent to live with your grandparents. I was with them ten years, until my marriage.’

‘To Athan?’

Ciaran laughed. ‘Athan is my second husband. My first …’ She gazed across the steaming water, her hand drifting a pattern beneath the surface that sent ripples dancing against the rim of the tub. ‘My first husband was Cattra’s cousin, Theon. He was fourteen years my senior and I did not, at first, much care for the idea
— the match was a political alliance brokered by your grandparents. But we were very happy.’

‘Have you children?’ Lyse asked.

‘No.’ Ciaran’s mood had shifted.

‘When did my parents first meet?’ Risha asked.

The woman’s answer was slow, as if the memories were hard to share. ‘They met at Theon’s. Cattra had come to visit me a few months after my marriage. Donnel had called on Theon to discuss some business of the Sitting. It was clear from their first encounter that there was something between them, but it took time to convince your grandparents to accept the match. Your grandmother was never resolved to Cattra leaving Havre. Nor, I think, did she approve of a love match.’

‘But it must have been romantic,’ Lyse suggested, ‘to have felt that way from their first meeting. And it could have been worse, if he’d been a stable boy or a guardsman.’

Ciaran smiled wryly. ‘Indeed. Court allegiances are not primarily about love, at least not at first. I came to love Theon quite quickly.’

‘Well, that’s romantic, too,’ Lyse said firmly.

In the silence that followed Risha stretched out her legs, watching their pale shape drift beneath the surface, her toes bobbing above.

Her parents’ courtship seemed distant and dreamlike. She chased from her mind a memory of Donnel kitted for war and intent upon revenge. The image that drifted up to replace it was not of the young couple’s meeting but of her grandmother’s disapproving face. Before she had time to study it the image rippled away, replaced by a garden, two men and a woman lounging in the shade of a cypress,
a woman’s carefree laughter echoing around them.

She opened her eyes and found Ciaran watching her intently. Risha blushed and sat forward, her sense of ease gone. She felt as though she had been spying.

The wet robe clung to her limbs like pondweed as she stood up. ‘I’m too hot. No, you stay, Lyse. I’m quite able to dress myself.’

‘But your hair,’ the girl protested.

‘I’ll plait it. I’d rather you troubled with it less now we’re away from court.’

‘You remind me of your mother, Lady Arishara,’ Ciaran said. ‘You share her free spirit, often called wildness by your grandmother.’

‘You make me think I would not have much cared for my grandmother.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you would. And she would have
understood
you all the better for having raised your mother.’

Over the days that followed Ciaran dipped often into memories of her girlhood. Her reminiscences, told at Lyse’s prompting rather than Risha’s, drew a picture of Cattra as an exuberant and bold young woman, more than a little headstrong but invariably loyal. Risha listened but said little, unable to explain, even to herself, the emptiness Ciaran’s stories created within her.

As the women became acclimatised to the saddle Nolan pushed them a little harder, steering them inland with the promise of a two-day rest in the sprawling market town of Tatton.

As well as a bustling community it proved to be the heart of Havre’s woollen industry, and Ciaran insisted on visiting a string of cloth-weavers and lingering an
extra day while they had new garments made up. In addition to the winter kirtles Ciaran recommended, Risha ordered riding trousers and jacket in a tough dun-coloured tweed.

‘You will scandalise the Council,’ Ciaran said, as Risha tried the garments on, ‘though Talben will be in favour. He has always argued that the only function of riding skirts is to get in the way.’

‘One of the traders I travelled with when I left Torfell often wore men’s garb on the road,’ Risha said. ‘She lent me trousers and a jerkin so I wouldn’t attract the attention of bandits. It was hard to go back to skirts, after.’

‘You would shock Athan with that story,’ Ciaran said. ‘Despite taking a modern approach to governance, he is a highly traditional man.’

Risha took a breath, hesitated, then allowed her question to tumble out. ‘Does he resent my return?’

‘Why would you think so?’ Ciaran asked. ‘When Donnel brought word of your reappearance Athan called for a day of celebration. He would gladly see the reinstatement of all the old royal houses.’

Risha could not quite mask her scepticism. ‘And give up his own role?’

A double crease formed between Ciaran’s brows. ‘It does not follow. The Council has always existed in one form or another; your grandmother had a council of advisors of a similar size. Athan was delighted to hear news of you, Lady Arishara.’

‘I suspect not all the Council shared his enthusiasm.’

‘Not all believed it.’ There was a small contemplative silence. ‘Not all believe it now.’

Risha straightened. ‘What do you mean?’

The older woman drew a breath, releasing it on a rush of words. ‘There are some, Arishara, who suggest you are not Cattra’s child, that the story of your survival was concocted by Donnel to secure him a hold over Havre.’

Risha’s mouth opened then closed as she considered the implications. Ciaran made no move to breach the silence. ‘I have been told I look a little like my mother,’ she said at last. Her voice came out oddly compressed.

‘You are the image of her. I cannot imagine a child of Cattra and Donnel looking other than you; you have your grandmother’s hair, your mother’s nose, your father’s eyes. It is almost too perfect.’

‘You’re saying—’

‘I’m saying only what I’ve heard said: that it is strange that Donnel had no knowledge of his only child for so many years, yet conveniently located her at the same time he chose to involve himself in Fratton’s politics. It is not unremarked that the timing of this miracle serves to gain him control over three of Elgard’s five duchies.’

‘But that is not the way it was at all! It was Barc who approached Donnel on Fratton’s behalf. He—’

Ciaran was holding up her hands. ‘Please, Lady Arishara, you need not exert yourself to convince me. I felt only that you should be aware of what has been said.’ She smiled. ‘If I had any doubts, you dispelled them the first day we met.’

Risha’s outrage was only slightly damped.

‘Yet you must admit it is an unlikely story on first hearing,’ Ciaran continued, her low voice unrelenting. ‘That you should have survived, yet remained invisible despite the effort Donnel — and others — put into finding you.’

A thread of uncertainty wound up from Risha’s belly. What if the doubters were right? She had only Donnel’s word in support of his claim to her paternity. Perhaps Barc had seen a girl who looked a little like Cattra, and he and Donnel had concocted the whole story, making her a goat girl grown above herself, an orphan — she pulled herself up.

‘And Pelon? Odd that a scholar who once worked for my grandmother should have spent more than a decade secreted in Westlaw’s northern mountains.’ Her fingers lifted to the brooch she wore at her throat. ‘Or that he should have had my mother’s brooch hidden among his belongings. That would suggest a foresight even Donnel would be hard-pressed to employ.’

The other woman’s smile did nothing to appease her, or to slow the rush of her thoughts. ‘Though perhaps that, too, is a fabrication in the minds of those who would retain power for themselves. I am sure they can find a counter-argument for any offered proof of my parentage.’ Vormer, she decided. And Thatton. There were likely others as well; Willart was easily swayed, and—

Ciaran’s hand on her arm startled her out of her speculation. ‘Not for all proofs, my lady.’

Some are irrefutable
.

The words set themselves out in Risha’s mind. The voice that spoke them, cool and clear as a mountain tarn, was not comfortable and familiar, not Nonno. ‘Ciaran—’ She found herself staring at the woman’s hand.

Lyse appeared in the doorway. ‘Are you ready? The captain is eager to move on.’

Ciaran reached for her cloak. ‘Of course. Poor man;
we’ve already kept him waiting. We will speak of this another time, my lady.’

Risha searched through her mind, but no connection between them remained.

Ciaran smiled vaguely. ‘You know, your mother was always impatient.’ And she launched into a story that caused Lyse to laugh as she chivvied them from the room, though Risha, at its end, could not remember a word.

When they reached the inn yard Nolan’s eyes ran between them as if Risha’s discomfort was evident. Rolling her shoulders to relieve their tension she swung onto Mica’s back.

As they rode north, Nolan brought his horse alongside. ‘Is everything well? You’re watching Ciaran as though she’s a she-wolf in disguise.’

Risha glanced sideways. ‘Her stories unsettle me. And it’s strange to be told you’re like someone you can only know through the memories of others.’

‘Your mother, you mean? They were close, I believe.’

‘Yes. And yet …’ And yet Ciaran’s stories of the girlhood she’d shared with Cattra left Risha with a stronger impression of her grandmother than her mother.

‘We all remember things differently. Be interesting to hear how Talben recalls it.’

At her look of confusion Nolan’s brows lifted. ‘Did Ciaran not mention it? Her brother spent seven years in service to your grand-da. He’ll have his own take on things, I expect.’

Why would the woman not have mentioned that? ‘Do they get along?’ she asked. ‘Ciaran and Talben?’

‘As far as I know. When we reach Bray you’ll find out for yourself.’

5

Bray

R
ather than being the town Risha had expected, Bray was a fortified farmhouse, grown over time into something grander than might have originally been intended. Ciaran laughed aloud when they came within sight of it, perched on a hillside above the road.

‘I’ve not been here in, oh, far too many years! It was my mother’s favourite house; we were always happiest here.’

As they approached the sagging gates, Risha wondered whether Bray would live up to the woman’s memories. There was a sense of abandonment to the place that no amount of reminiscing could disperse.

‘Talben can’t be here yet,’ Ciaran said as she surveyed the empty yard.

At a gesture from Nolan, Webb and Croft dismounted and disappeared into the buildings on either flank. The yard remained steadfastly empty.

Risha studied the farmhouse. The original
four-square
dwelling had been extended at either side to abut the stables and barn. Croft appeared at the stable door,
held up three fingers and ducked back out of sight.

‘Trill and Samin should be here, even if Talben is not,’ Ciaran said, twisting in her saddle to look around. ‘I don’t understand.’

A man’s voice suddenly boomed across the yard. ‘Welcome! Welcome. Ride in. Forgive our state of
ill-preparedness
. Illness has visited of late and as a consequence we find ourselves a little understaffed. Come in.’

‘If there is illness, perhaps we are better riding on,’ Nolan replied, dancing his horse to gain a clearer view of the man, standing in the shadows of the loggia above the main door.

‘Not at all: it has passed and we are eager for company. I am expecting guests any hour. You are welcome to attend our happy occasion.’

‘We are but passing,’ Nolan replied. ‘We had hoped for directions.’

‘Sir, what is your name?’ Ciaran called. ‘This is Bray, is it not, estate of Talben of the Marches?’

The man’s smile was wide and quick. ‘It is as you say. Make yourselves easy, I beg you. My people are gone to greet our guests but will be back shortly. They’ll have noted your arrival.’

Risha watched uneasily as Nolan came to a decision. Before he had time to share it Ciaran answered. ‘Perhaps we might water the horses at least, before we travel on.’

‘Of course. You are welcome, mistress. Give me a moment and I’ll be down.’

As the man ducked from view Nolan gave a reluctant command to dismount. Risha stared around the yard with its unsettling quiet. Where were the stable lads, kitchen maids, dogs? All the usual milling tumble of life was missing.

She swung from the saddle and flipped Mica’s reins over her arm, pushing towards Nolan. ‘Something’s wrong.’

He nodded. ‘Tuck your hair out of sight.’

‘What?’

‘Discreetly.’

Her hair was bound in a plait. Risha flicked it inside her shirt. ‘Do you trust him?’

‘Not as far as I can spit.’

Webb slipped around the end of the farm buildings at their left. ‘There are three dogs with their throats slit round behind the barn.’

Nolan cursed. ‘Check the gate. Make it casual.’

Webb wandered to the gate, stretched his arms above his head and swung one shoulder as if easing a cramp. When he sauntered back he walked past Nolan and bent to check the hoof of his mare.

‘Nothing on the road, but one of the chimneys at the back has just started belching black smoke — could be a signal to bring his friends back.’

Nolan’s eyes skipped around the buildings, the loggia, the shadows within the stable. ‘Webb, that hayloft should give a view of the road. Let me know if there’s any sign of movement. Kahlen, you and Lark see if you can find a way in around the back. There are likely three inside, but it could be more.’

Questions rose on Risha’s tongue, but the door was flung wide and their host sauntered into the yard. ‘Ladies, it’s my pleasure to welcome you! You are in need of refreshments I expect? We shall ransack the kitchens! Perhaps your attendants could fend for themselves until my people return to deal with them.’

The man’s accent was strangely slippery, his
bonhomie
ringing false. Risha watched across Mica’s back as he strode towards Ciaran, arms widespread. His trousers and jacket were less than fresh, and above his ruddy cheeks and pale eyebrows his tangle of ginger hair was in need of a wash.

‘You are most kind.’ Ciaran dismounted and turned to assist Lyse.

The man’s eyes slithered across them. ‘Is the young lady your daughter, madam? The likeness is clear.’

Ciaran hesitated only briefly. ‘My niece. My servants will attend me, sir. Would you honour us with your name?’

‘Friends call me Bond: my word as my name.’ His broad smile displayed the ragged line of his teeth.

‘I knew the factor here, years ago,’ Ciaran said. ‘Is he within?’

‘I regret the last factor met with ill luck not long ago. I have taken his place. But let us not linger in the yard when we can catch up on this talk within. Do, please, step inside.’

He swung towards the open door just as Kahlen walked through it, a man with a roughly bandaged thigh and freshly bleeding nose limping before him.

‘There’s this one and a pile of bodies out back that says we’ve yet to hear the whole truth,’ Kahlen said.

Bond took a step sideways and found the point of Nolan’s sword at his neck. ‘I was being cautious, I confess, but I have told no untruths. We were attacked two days ago. I’ve sent for aid and look to it arriving any hour. I am not the villain here.’

‘No? The corpse of the old woman in the kitchen tells a different story. Her wound is freshly bleeding.’

‘Trill?’ Ciaran took two hurried steps forward and Nolan half-turned. Bond took his chance and swung fast as a snake, kicking out at Nolan’s knee before lunging towards Ciaran. Croft threw himself forward, tackling the man around the knees. They landed hard. Webb pulled Ciaran aside as Bond aimed a kick at Croft’s face.

Bond was quick. Within a second he was up. Heedless of the swords that bristled in a protective arc around Ciaran, he snarled and spun like a cornered beast, his dagger weaving before him. With a wild shout he flapped his arms causing the horses to shy, then, with the guardsmen’s attention divided, he launched forward again, aiming not for Ciaran, but for Lyse.

The girl squeaked in distress as the man crashed into her, driving her back against her horse. The placid mare jittered sideways and Bond pivoted with it, his left arm clamping around Lyse’s neck, his mouth twisted into a snarl.

Lyse cried out, her hands clutching at his arm. He growled in her ear and, keeping the horse at his back, pulled her away from the guardsmen. ‘That changes things, don’t it?’ He sneered, his accent suddenly feral. ‘Not so sure of yerselves now, are yer?’

‘Release her. You have no chance.’ Nolan’s sword was raised, his eyes cold.

‘No chance, is it?’ Bond raised his dagger to Lyse’s throat, and her eyes grew wild as a bead of blood appeared beneath its tip. ‘I’m thinking it’s this little dumpling has no chance. Now, unless you want her filleted, I suggest you lay down yer weapons. Starting with him.’

At the lift of the man’s chin Risha turned to see Kahlen. He had his knee in the small of the second
stranger’s back, one of his arms twisted in a
shoulder-lock
. They were some distance from the step and Kahlen had a slightly scuffed air about him. Warily, his eyes on Lyse, Kahlen pushed to his feet and stepped away. The man on the ground groaned and rolled onto his side but made no attempt to rise.

‘Yer weapons, I said.’

Nolan sheathed his sword. ‘No.’

Lyse whimpered.

‘No?’ Blood threaded down Lyse’s neck, staining the collar of her jacket.

‘Harm her and you’re a dead man,’ Nolan said, his tone matter-of-fact rather than threatening.

‘Says you.’

‘Says Goltoy. And I’ll be handing you back to him myself.’

Bond looked uncertain.

‘I doubt he’ll go easy. I doubt it very much.’

‘What yer sayin’?’

‘Work it out,’ Nolan snapped. ‘Kahlen hog-tie that piece of scum. Lark, steady the horses. Mistress, perhaps you should sit down.’

Ciaran was very pale. Croft gripped her arm as she swayed on her feet.

The last thing Bond expected was to be ignored. ‘Now, you jus’ listen to me. I’m calling the shots here. You want this girl alive, I’m telling yer—’

‘Trust me on this: it’s you that wants her alive — alive and unharmed. I wouldn’t want to be in your skin if she isn’t. Doubt you’ll want to be in it either, once Goltoy learns who harmed her.’

Bond frowned. ‘Yer sayin’ this is the bint Goltoy’s after,
is that it? Well, I’m getting the finder’s fee.’

Nolan shrugged. ‘I might be convinced to give you a cut.’

‘What yer bring the other along for? That’s just trouble, that is. I’m telling yer—’ He pointed the blade of his knife at Nolan. There was a thunk and he staggered back against the mare, arms wide, an arrow embedded just below his left eye.

Across the yard Webb stepped from the shadowed door of the barn, his bow still poised. Nolan ran a hand across his face, his cool dispassion gone. Lyse had slumped to her knees. As one of the guardsmen made a grab for the spooked mare, Risha ran forward.

‘It’s all right Lyse.’ She wrapped her arm around the girl’s quivering shoulders. ‘It’s over.’

Lyse’s breath was coming in sharp panting gasps. ‘He was … he would … he—’

‘We wouldn’t have let him. No one was going to let him hurt you. Webb couldn’t shoot until he had a clear line, that was all. It just took a few moments. Breathe now.’

Nolan had begun barking commands. Lyse shuddered and turned into Risha’s embrace.

Kahlen placed a hand beneath Lyse’s elbow. ‘Let’s get you inside. You’ve had a shock, and my nan always said the best thing for shock is a nice sweet cup of tea.’

Lyse raised her head and he made a disapproving sound. ‘Here now.’ He towed her to her feet, Risha rising beside them. With his sleeve he dabbed the blood from Lyse’s neck.

Her eyes widened suddenly. ‘Where is he? Can he—’ She started to turn but Kahlen held her firm.

‘He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe, I swear it. He’s gone.’

She stared at him, nodded and nodded again. ‘Good. I’ll — I’ll make tea.’

‘You won’t,’ Kahlen huffed. ‘You’ll sit down while we make it. Silly girl.’

As he led Lyse towards the house Risha was startled to find the yard largely emptied. Bond’s body was gone. The other man, too, had disappeared. She looked around for Nolan and found him at the gate.

‘Captain.’

He turned, frowning. ‘You should be inside. When the rest of them arrive you need to stay out of sight.’ He took her arm and began walking her across the yard. ‘In fact …’ His steps slowed.

‘Would you have let him harm her?’ She was startled to hear the words coming from her mouth. ‘No, don’t answer. That wasn’t a fair question. I—’

‘It was my intention to ensure he didn’t,’ Nolan said stiffly.

‘I know. I realise that. Your bluff, it was very …’ She couldn’t think of the word. ‘Ingenious. It was ingenious.’

He studied her face. ‘Inside, Arishara. We’ve got bigger problems on the way than that mangy cur. And when they get here we’ll be needing a sight more than ingenuity.’

Webb stuck his head through the doorway. ‘Thirty or more, riding fast, just out of the trees. We’ve got five minutes, I’d guess.’

‘It could be Talben,’ Ciaran said.

Nolan’s expression was severe. ‘Aye. It could be.’
Shucking off his jerkin he handed it to Risha. ‘If you’d get ready please, my lady. Lyse?’

The girl swallowed visibly and smoothed the skirt of her dress — Risha’s dress — over her hips. ‘I’m ready.’

She sounded terrified. Ciaran forestalled Risha’s objection. ‘He’s right, Risha. It’s the best hope we have. Do as he asks.’

Risha’s eyes skittered between them but found no hope of compromise in their faces. With a muttered expletive she tugged Nolan’s jerkin over her head. It was too big for her, hanging loose from shoulders to thighs but at least covering the shapeliness that her riding trousers failed to mask.

There was a shout from outside. Nolan crossed the room in two strides and was gone.

Risha met Lyse’s eyes. ‘That dress suits you,’ she said. She slipped off her mother’s ring and fumbled in her saddlebag for Cattra’s brooch. ‘Here.’ She held them out.

Lyse’s eyes widened. ‘You’re sure?’

Risha forced a tight smile. ‘Don’t forget to be imperious.’

‘And stubborn.’ Lyse’s response had a slightly
desperate
air.

Nolan couldn’t have it both ways, Risha decided. Avoiding Ciaran’s eyes she buckled her sword around her waist and slung crossbow and quiver across her shoulder. ‘I’m going to watch the back entry. Bolt the door behind me.’

Ignoring both women’s protests she slipped through the scullery and out the door beyond. The midden was to her left against the rear wall of the yard. To her right the narrow space between stables and encircling wall
had been roofed to provide shelter for firewood and assorted supplies. She worked her way along until she found a small door.