The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (36 page)

“Impossible,” Kemal said instantly, but the idea nagged at him. What if they turned now and Bridgit was just over the horizon? She would get back to Gaelland and he would be left with nothing and no way to face down Fallon again. He came to an abrupt decision.

“We keep sailing fast for Gaelland. Maybe they are better sailors than we thought. But if we have not caught up with them in another quarter moon, we shall turn back and search for them. We have to find that ship!”

Rosaleen worried that she should not have sailed down to Lunster. There was so much to do in Berry, with the church in disarray. If Fallon had asked her to go, she would have refused. But Gallagher was harder to say no to. She told herself it was about finding out the truth and ensuring that Duchess Dina could indeed be trusted. Yet the attraction of time alone with Gallagher was the real lure. Their cover story was he was escorting her around the counties, so she could see how far the evil infection had spread through the church.

Priests and priestesses of Aroaril were encouraged to marry and have children, to tie them closer into their communities. That was always easier for the priests than the priestesses. Rosaleen could still remember the crusty old Bishop at her training house warning her not to get too close to young men while encouraging the male novices to hurry up and marry.

The young men of the village, mostly boastful and foolish, had not appealed to her at all. But Gallagher, although he was nearly ten summers older, did. Perhaps because of the sadness and tragedy that he carried around inside him, perhaps because of his politeness and dignity – perhaps because he alone of the village did not love Aroaril. After all, she had been raised on tales of how Aroaril welcomed the conversion of one disbeliever more than the prayers of a score of uninterested worshippers. Of course, his lack of belief also meant he was seeing her as a woman, not as a priestess.

It was not something they had spoken about much but she could see the struggle within him and he had openly admitted he could not think about the future while the families of his friends were trapped in Kotterman. She had been happy to go along with that, for being happy among the misery of the people they knew would be cruel and probably poison anything they did have. But she watched him surreptitiously as he guided their boat into the harbor. Maybe he could help her heal the church …

“What are you looking at?” he asked softly, his eyes on the way ahead but obviously not missing her gaze.

“Just looking around, seeing things of interest,” she replied casually.

He turned his head and winked at her. “The sights around here are beautiful,” he said.

Rosaleen turned her head to hide her laugh. The hull bumped as it nudged through rubbish, while overhead a huge flock of seabirds fought and screamed over the stinking piles along the shore. The smell was incredible and not in a good way.

“Here comes the harbormaster,” Gallagher said, straightening up and pointing towards an approaching boat, propelled by a dozen oarsmen. “I wonder if he will remember us from the last time.”

“He’d be more likely to remember Fallon and Brendan, after what they did to him,” Rosaleen said.

One of the villagers had also seen the rowboat. “What should we do?” he called, hurrying back to where Rosaleen and Gallagher stood.

Subtly she moved away as Gallagher waved the man off. “Don’t worry. We have the Crown Prince’s seal.”

“Maybe he knows where Hagen lived,” she suggested.

Gallagher snorted. “Unless Hagen was his drinking mate, I doubt it.”

Rosaleen sighed. “We would have had an easier time of it if we could have brought along Gannon, or one of his men, or even had directions from the Duchess herself. Are we supposed to wander the streets, asking for people who might remember the old captain of the guard?”

“Too risky to bring them in,” Gallagher said. “Fallon is right. There are answers hidden here. If the Kottermanis did not take the Duke, then who did? And we never found out how we were betrayed so well.”

“The Duchess was speaking the truth. I would have felt it otherwise,” Rosaleen said.

“But that does not mean she was giving us all the truth. Just because you do not say lies does not mean you tell all the truth,” Gallagher said, signaling for the mainsail to be lowered.

“Then what is the truth?”

“Maybe we can find out,” he said, then reached out and touched her arm. “Better show the seal to the harbormaster. He’s going to be less inclined to ask questions of a priestess than of an old sea dog like myself.”

“Not so old,” she said softly, her arm thrilling to his touch.

*

The walk through Lunster was even better, for the crowds meant there were many times when he had to take her arm to help get through a press of people.

The harbormaster was useless when it came to information about Hagen but eager to please when he saw the seal of the Crown Prince. Their boat had been tucked away in a prime berth and Gallagher left three of the men on board to deter any thieves while he, Rosaleen and the other three set off to search for answers.

“If Fallon was such good friends with the man, why does he not know where he lives? A two-story house with a white door somewhere near the harbor is hardly helpful,” Gallagher grumbled as they trudged up yet another street, looking for something that compared with Fallon’s description.

“Maybe I need to use this robe to help,” Rosaleen suggested.

“What, it’s magical and can find directions?” Gallagher asked with a wink that only she could see.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said and stopped an older couple with a smile and a slight bow of her head. “Peace be upon you, brother and sister,” she said gently. “I wonder if you might help us?”

“If we can, Sister,” the man said immediately, while his wife reached out and took Rosaleen’s hand, kissing it and raising it to her forehead to ask for a blessing.

Rosaleen glanced quickly over at Gallagher, who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

The couple did not know where Hagen lived but the middle-aged mother they directed her to was more helpful. Her small house was filled with piles of washing, in between which ran laughing children. The woman, who reminded Rosaleen a little of Bridgit, wiped a damp forehead with a reddened hand and stretched her back, seemingly glad of the chance to stop from her work.

“I do the washing for many around here, merchants and the like,” she said, her forearms impressively muscled from her skillful use of her scrubbing board. “I used to look after Captain Hagen, Aroaril bless his soul.”

Rosaleen and Gallagher exchanged smiles. “So where does he live?” she asked. “Can you show us?”

The woman gestured to the piles of washing around her. “Does it look like I have the time to do that?” she sighed.

Gallagher pulled a gold coin out of his pouch and laid it on the top of her scrubbing board.

“Does that help your memory?” he asked.

The woman’s eyes bulged at the sight of the gold. Without saying anything she reached out a hand and plucked a running child from the ground with the ease of long practice. She held it up to see who it was.

“Eamonn. Take these people to where Captain Hagen lived. Do it and there’s an extra chop in it for you tonight. Go now!”

The child, a lad of no more than ten summers, nodded vigorously and grabbed Rosaleen’s hand in his own grubby paw and tugged, his legs churning.

*

Hagen’s house was exactly as Fallon had described it, two stories, white door and close to the harbor, although in a side street they would have missed had they not had a little guide. The neat little door was locked but Gallagher and two of the other men drove their shoulders at it until it finally splintered away from the lock. Unsurprisingly, this drew quite a crowd.

“We are here on royal business,” Rosaleen announced loudly, holding up Prince Cavan’s seal. The combination of that and her distinctive robe kept them back and they showed no signs of running for the town guards, at least. This was a respectable part of town, with houses owned by shopkeepers and tradesmen. She glanced around quickly to see if any of them knew anything about Hagen’s disappearance but there was only curiosity on the faces there. Except for one man, who was hanging around at the back, looking nervous.

She whispered her suspicions to Gallagher and he indicated to two of the villagers, who pounced into the crowd and fished out a small man wearing a flour-covered apron. He was dragged over to the broken front door, where Gallagher grabbed his apron in his fist.

“What do you know about Captain Hagen?” Rosaleen demanded. “Tell us and there is gold in it for you.”

“Play us false and you will regret it,” Gallagher added, his hand resting on the hilt of one of his fearsome knives.

“They took him,” the man whispered. “I am a baker and awake long before dawn. I saw a pair of men carry him from the house and taken him down towards the harbor.”

“Did you know the men?” Rosaleen demanded.

The baker turned haunted eyes on her. “They were covered in his blood. He was a good man. I hid and covered my eyes. I did not want to know who could kill the captain of the guard and laugh,” he whispered.

“But you do know, don’t you?” Rosaleen said, feeling the truth behind his words.

Tears began to flow from his eyes in a silent stream. “Please, I have a wife, a family, friends … They would be in danger!”

“Tell us,” Gallagher insisted, his hand tightening on the man’s tunic.

“You have to tell. Or it will haunt you for the rest of your life,” Rosaleen said, far gentler.

The baker nodded and let out a little sob. “They wore the Duke’s tunic!” he whispered.

Rosaleen and Gallagher exchanged horrified looks, then she nodded at the baker. Gallagher pressed a pair of gold coins into the man’s tunic and let him go. Instantly the man raced away, losing himself in the crowd.

“If Hagen’s own guards killed him, then that means Hagen could not have been the traitor,” Gallagher said. “Let’s look inside his home.”

They all slipped inside to find the house had been gone through by someone already, judging by the mess. There was no evidence a woman had lived there, but it had still been a better house than most of the town enjoyed, until it had been turned upside down.

“They never found what they were looking for,” Gallagher said, stepping over piles of clothes. “Because everything has been searched. So either they found it in the very last place they looked, or not at all.”

She stood very still and looked around the room carefully. She had never known Hagen but she could imagine how he would think. He was a warrior who would want some sort of victory, even in defeat. And he was Fallon’s friend. She allowed her gaze to sweep over the house. Then her heart leaped as she spotted what she was looking for and jumped over the remains of a chair to reach it.

“Here!” she exclaimed proudly, holding up a shillelagh. “Fallon was the expert, not Hagen.”

“Many people have them,” Gallagher said.

But she ignored him and pulled and twisted at the staff – and smiled as one of the metal ends came away. She fished out a small piece of parchment, unfolding it to reveal tight, cramped writing. She read it and nearly dropped it.

“We need to get back to Berry and show this to Fallon,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Gallagher did not ask questions, he merely reached out a hand and helped her across the piles of possessions and out of the door.

They both froze then.

“I was wondering when you would be coming out,” a strange voice said.

And they discovered the crowd was gone, replaced by men with swords instead.

“And where are the rest of the Guildsmen?” Dina asked sharply, her voice echoing.

Rather than meet with the new leaders of the Guilds in the throne room, they had ordered the men to meet them in the main church in Berry. This was a drafty old stone building, with little light and even less comfort. But it had the decided advantage of showing up instantly anyone who had given their souls to Zorva.

“I do not know, your grace. Your instructions were most clear,” the new leader of the Bankers Guild said, sweating profusely even in the cool of the church.

“We will need their names and where they live,” Fallon said flatly.

“What will you do to them? Kill them as you killed the King?” the Banker sneered at him.

Fallon took three quick steps forward, until he was right in front of the Banker. The man had nowhere to go and could only wilt back against his hard wooden seat.

“I will not harm them. I will bring them here and allow them to wash their faces in water blessed by Aroaril himself,” Fallon said. “What happens to them after that is up to Aroaril. Do you think that is unfair? Would you care for a cup yourself?”

“No, I think that is fair and reasonable,” the Banker said, his eyes darting around, looking for a way out.

Fallon glared at him a moment longer before walking backwards. Dina gave him a sideways glance and he knew she was silently imploring him not to upset the Guildsmen. That was going to be hard. He had faced them too many times in nasty little fight, and seen too many of them praying to Zorva to trust them.

“We know that you are as horrified as we are that the King forced some of your number to join him in the worship of Zorva,” Dina said, her voice pouring oil on the troubled waters.

Fallon could see the Guildsmen relax as she moved among them, and contented himself with crossing his arms and glowering at them.

“All we require is that the men who have been converted to Zorva are brought forwards, for their own good as much as for anyone else. Here, they will be given the chance to save their souls. At the very least, they will be unable to do more harm. And once we can all be sure all is safe, then we can continue as before.”

“Captain Fallon is known to hate the Guilds. How do we know he will not destroy us, no matter what we do here?” the head of the Silversmiths asked cautiously.

“Everything will continue as before,” Dina said immediately. “There are no plans to take away any license for trade. We know that Berry and indeed Gaelland runs on the Guilds. King Aidan attempted to use you for his own ends but he has been amply punished for his deeds. We want Gaelland to be stronger than ever and that prosperity will be built on the Guilds. Look at how we have worked with the Guild of Magic. Let that be an example to you all.”

“It is true, we have both benefited,” the head of that Guild agreed, making them all nod.

“And the nobles?” another asked.

“As I said, the only change is that a mad King who had turned to evil has been removed. In the spring, we shall choose a new King and I don’t doubt he will have his own way of doing things. I cannot speak for him. But, until then, we continue as before.”

Fallon could see the relief on their faces and wished he had the power to go into every Guild and use his shillelagh to get some answers out of them.

But while he gripped and re-gripped his shillelagh, aching for the chance to use it, he merely sat and listened as Dina took them through the new tax arrangements and elicited their pledges of coin. Bags and bags of coin, which could be used to keep the city running while the nobles were slowly brought back under control.

They bowed deeply to Dina as they left, promising that the first payments would arrive the next day.

Some of them even looked like they would try to shake Fallon’s hand, but he glared at them and they quickly moved on. The only one he reckoned could be trusted was Lorrissa, the new head of the Guild of Engravers. But there were many more that looked suspicious.

“Fear and greed will keep them in line,” Dina said contemptuously as the last of them disappeared out the door. “Fear that we will make them pay for the evil they have done and greed that they can continue as before.”

“For how long do we have to put up with them?” Fallon asked. “They may not have known everything Aidan was doing but they were happy to go along with it nonetheless.”

“Only until we have the country secure,” she said soothingly. “One summer, no more. Then there can be a proper reckoning.”

Fallon knew he had to see the bigger picture. She had told him that often enough. But Aroaril it was hard.

“So that is the Guilds in hand. Tomorrow we need to start on the nearest nobles, make sure the ones who have promised to stand with us live up to their word and those who ignored us will be brought over to our side by fear or force,” she said. “You see, we make the perfect team. I provide the carrot and you provide the stick.”

Fallon patted his shillelagh. “You’re right about that!”

*

“Finally, we are getting somewhere,” Swane said with satisfaction.

“Highness, I would still caution against moving too soon. We do not have enough men or weapons,” Ryan said carefully.

“Nonsense. I am the rightful King. Once they see me, all will rally to my banner. Finbar’s messages to my nobles in the west of the country have worked. They have all agreed to help destroy the traitor Fallon. Besides, we need to move now, or we shall never get through the passes across the Spine.”

Ryan bowed his head. “Indeed you are right, highness. As it is, our men shall need to rest and recover on the other side. We will be vulnerable if Fallon decides to attack—”

“He is peasant scum and I am the rightful King! We shall do what I say!”

“Yes, highness.”

*

The incessant training had toughened the young recruits up but Fallon still took most of them on the march through the countryside. Part of it was to get them stronger and more confident, part of it was protection in case some noble decided to raise his fyrd, but most of it was intimidation. Fail to live up to your promises and we will be back.

The sight of so many armed men marching through the countryside was enough to send the people into a panic but when they marched around and past villages and towns without touching anything or, even better, used good silver to buy food and drink, people began to bring out their goods for sale, or just stood and watched and cheered as they marched past.

“We should tell them we are here to free them from the nobles and give them a chance at a better life,” Fallon said.

“Too dangerous,” Dina said immediately. “Not until we are through this winter. We have to let the nobles think they are in no danger, right up until the moment we drag them before a crowd and behead them for their crimes. They have to trust us and believe us.”

Fallon did not like the idea but he did not have nearly enough men to hold Berry and take over this many counties as well. Stretching his forces too thin would just be an invitation for the nobles to unite and strike back. Besides, he was beginning to trust her. She had been invaluable so far.

Their first stop was the town of Kenkilly, the home of the local Baron. As the closest noble, he had promised help to Dina in a letter but, aside from a few wagons of potatoes, nothing had arrived from his county. The rich, fertile dark soil of Kenkilly was perfect for potatoes and they had marched for two days through endless fields, with men and women working furiously to bring in the crop. Enough to keep Berry bellies full for winter, if they could but get their hands on them.

Baron Kenkilly had no castle, merely a stately manor that would never hold out against the force they brought, while his small company of guards vanished like mist in the sun at the sight of Fallon’s force. Just in case the noble thought to run, Fallon had sent Bran and a hundred men on horses to watch the eastern road out of Kenkilly. But they were not needed.

The Baron was a plump man, resembling one of the vegetables his county was famous for. He looked friendly enough but Fallon had seen him stabbing a helpless servant with a fork at the King’s feast and listened to him wheel and deal at the council.

“My dear Duchess, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asked, perspiring even though the day was overcast and chill.

“Potatoes, my dear Baron,” Dina said. “I have a longing for potatoes. You may remember you promised to send us some in Berry but they seem to have been misplaced.”

The Baron glanced over at Fallon, who glared back at him, then the nobleman looked at the mass of soldiers behind them and pasted a smile onto his face. “We have been hard at work harvesting them for you. Let us discuss how we can get them there,” he suggested.

*

Fallon led his men out of Kenkilly that day, all but a company under Casey, who would escort more than a hundred wagons piled high with potatoes back to Berry. The Baron had listened to Dina’s flattery and promises both about the upcoming council to decide a new King and payment for extra supplies. By the time they had all sat down to dinner with the Baron, he was complaining about how Aidan had behaved and exclaiming in horror at the thought of Zorva worship going on in the capital.

“You are used to sending half to the King anyway. If you sent more, for which we will pay, and then purchased supplies from other counties for your people, then everyone wins. Those who are frightened of being seen to support us in Berry can hold their hand on their heart and pledge that they merely sold food to a fellow noble,” she explained.

Baron Kenkilly nodded wisely but also grasped the unspoken threat of the army waiting outside his home and agreed to send everything he had, in exchange for Guild silver that he could use to buy food from elsewhere in Gaelland.

“There’ll be cheers when that lot arrives in the markets of the city,” Dina said.

“It’s a good start,” Fallon agreed. “Now the real fun begins.”

*

The Count of Rork had not replied to Dina’s messages but his fields were full of fat lambs, just ready to be killed and salted for winter, so they marched there next. Rork did not border Kenkilly but Fallon did not want to give them any warning. He had marched his men slowly through Kenkilly but now he led them on a fast march, pushing them swiftly and pounding along the roads, moving at night and then hiding them in the day, using woodlands to disguise them. He guessed that the Count of Rork would have heard about their slow march through Kenkilly and be watching for something similar through his own county. He did not intend to give him the time to prepare. If Rork tried to raise its fyrd, they would discover it was too late. The recruits were left gasping and staggering by the end of each night but they were still cheerful enough. They all trusted Fallon – and he had made sure none of the ones he brought along were from these counties. That way they would not have to feel any guilt about what they were going to do.

Like Kenkilly, Rork did not have a defendable castle. The Count’s home had towers at each corner but they were for decoration rather than practical use. Fallon had no idea what Rork looked like, of course, because he had never been there. But he solved that by sending Bran and a handful of other men to ride ahead and scout the town. Dressed in ordinary clothes, they shopped in the market and looked at how the Count defended his town.

It allowed him to rest the recruits in a large wood about ten miles out of Rork during one last day, then lead them on a brisk march through the night to surprise the town.

*

Rossmore, the Fourteenth Count of Rork, usually woke late. After all, being up before the dawn was only for those who needed to work for their living. Since he had fled the uprising in the capital and therefore all the city’s luxuries, he had tried to sleep as much as possible, because the entertainment in his ancestral home was sadly lacking compared to what Berry offered. But now he was unsure when he would be able to return. Like just about everyone he had feared King Aidan and mourned his death not at all, but that was not to say he liked the idea of some commoner wielding power. Bowing to a peasant? Even the presence of Duchess Dina was not enough to make that appealing. So when messages from Prince Swane arrived, brought to him by magic, he had agreed to act as a base for Swane’s gathering army. His flocks, which would normally have gone to Berry, would be used to feed the men Swane and Meinster were bringing down. From Rork, it was possible to march hard and fast for Berry, especially with plenty of fat lamb inside. He had been promised extra lands in exchange for such help and was looking forwards to picking those out. It meant he had to keep out of Duchess Dina’s way but that should be easy enough. The men from Berry were marching slowly across the countryside and he would have plenty of warning of their approach, with men out watching every road. Without that to worry about, he could relax and enjoy the few diversions that Rork presented.

But this morning was different. Instead of waking some time around noon for a leisurely breakfast, he was disturbed by shouting. No matter how many times he rang the bell beside his bed, nobody came to his bedroom, and he was finally forced to wrap a robe around his shoulders and go and see what was happening, swearing that someone was going to be flogged to within an inch of their lives for this.

To his shock, he found not his usual servants downstairs but instead a pack of dirty soldiers, led by a grim-faced captain and accompanied by Duchess Dina of Lunster.

“What is the meaning of this?” he squawked, clutching his robe to his chest.

“It means, my dear Rossmore, that you have decided to do what is right and send what you owe to the capital,” the Duchess said cheerfully.

Rossmore looked over at where half a dozen of his guards sat on the floor, their hands on their heads, surrounded by young men pointing loaded crossbows at their faces. He had thought his men were tough but they seemed small and helpless now.

“But I want no part of what is happening—” he began, only for the grim-faced captain to stride forward and lay a heavy hand on his shoulder.