The Knight: A Tale from the High Kingdom (30 page)

Midnight was chiming when Andara arrived at his meeting place, a small public garden left neglected. He was punctual, but his contact was already there.

‘I don’t have much time,’ said Eriad, stepping out of the shadows.

14

Two days later, in the morning, Father Eldrim appeared at the gate of the Black Tower and wanted to speak to Lorn in private.

‘What’s happened, father?’ asked Lorn.

‘It’s a rather delicate matter, knight. I need your help, but your discretion, with regard to certain aspects, would also be indispensable.’

‘Very well.’

‘Then meet me at the dispensary in an hour, if you will.’

‘You can’t tell me anything more?’

‘I cannot tell you anything I learned through confession. I can only encourage the one who spoke to me to confide in others, if they can be of more help than I can.’

Lorn nodded.

‘I’ll be there in an hour, father.’

‘Thank you.’

An hour later, in a garden at the dispensary, Lorn found himself in the presence of Father Eldrim and the tearful young woman he was trying to comfort. Lorn did not know who she was and doubted he’d ever met her before. She was quite young and rather pretty, modestly dressed. More curled up than sitting, she was trying to contain her tears, her eyes reddened and her features haggard from worry.

Lorn sat facing her, took off his spectacles, leaned forward, and said:

‘Talk to me.’

The young woman addressed a silent question to Father Eldrim who, with a sympathetic smile, urged her to speak.

‘It’s … It’s my husband … He’s … disappeared.’

‘When?’

‘Since … We had an argument, yesterday evening … He left and … and he hasn’t come back.’

She burst into sobs.

Lorn stood up and shot a stern glance at the priest. Had his help been enlisted merely to find a husband who stayed out all night after a domestic dispute?

‘Perhaps you should explain from the beginning,’ said Father Eldrim to the young woman. ‘Start by telling him who you are and who your husband is …’

She nodded and pulled herself together.

‘Yes, pardon me … My … My name is Mahaut. Mahaut Veren. I am the wife of Loah Veren.’

‘Veren,’ said Lorn. ‘The public scribe?’

‘Yes. That’s him.’

Lorn recalled the young man in the tavern, who had been talking with others over a drink when Cadfeld had joined them.

‘I don’t know him personally,’ said Lorn. ‘But I’ve already run into him. I know who he is.’

The priest took the young woman’s hands in his and murmured to her:

‘You can tell the knight everything, Mahaut. Everything. I vouch for him. Besides, he can help you.’

Mahaut then explained how the small amount her husband earned did not permit them to make ends meet and, their debts mounting, how she had resolved to go ask Andara for a loan. Of course, she had done so in secret. Firstly, because Veren had too much honour and pride to owe money to such a hateful being. And secondly because Mahaut knew what the leader of the militia would demand of her. She’d been right about that, but at least she had brought back the money needed to meet their most pressing bills.

‘I … I thought I did the right thing … We needed that money, you understand? Really needed it!’

Lorn nodded.

‘But your husband found out?’

‘Yes. He learned that I’d paid some of our debts and he wanted to know how. I … I couldn’t lie to him. I begged him to forgive me but he became enraged. He … He insulted me. I even thought he was going to beat me, but he left instead. That was last night. And since then …’

Lorn had heard quite enough.

But noticing a bruise on the young woman’s cheekbone, he asked:

‘Who did this to you, then?’

‘Andara. I know that Loah went to see him last night. I’m sure of it. So …’

‘So you went back to see that brute?’

‘Yes.’

Mahaut broke into tears again.

Upon returning to the Black Tower, Lorn assembled his men and explained the matter to them. Out of respect to Mahaut, he did not mention the favours that Andara had demanded of her, but no one was taken in.

‘Vahrd, Dwain and Yeras, go and ask around quietly in the neighbourhood. Try to find out what Veren did after leaving his wife and if he was mad enough to confront Andara … The rest of you, stand ready: you never know.’

An hour later, Vahrd returned with a version of the facts which Dwain and Yeras later confirmed, give or take a few minor details. Andara and his men were so sure of their impunity that they hardly sought to conceal their misdeeds. But the Onyx Guards – and Vahrd more particularly – now enjoyed a certain amount of respect in Redstone. Tongues had loosened. As long as their anonymity was assured, witnesses had spoken up, only too happy to have someone to turn to.

‘Veren started by drinking,’ explained Vahrd. ‘And then he went to knock on the shutters of the Broken Sword in the middle of the night. Dead drunk. Shouting insults at Andara at the top of his lungs. So he woke up the entire street and everyone saw what happened next …’

Lorn feared the worst. The Broken Sword served as the Redstone militia’s headquarters.

‘Andara did not show his face,’ continued Vahrd. ‘Maybe he was at home, that late at night. But five or six of his men came out. According to those who witnessed the scene, at first they just wanted to chase Veren away and pushed him into the mud. But he got back up and managed to land a punch on one of them. And that set them off …’

Vahrd paused to drink a gulp of wine and Lorn gave him a questioning look.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Beaten to death. I even know where the body is …’

The militiamen had their habits, which included getting rid of cumbersome dead bodies in a waste ground at the edge of Redstone. The spot was so well known that, sooner or later, anyone missing a person close to them, and who had troubles with the militia, went to look there.

The Onyx Guards, who had come out in full strength, searched the site and soon found Veren’s body in a muddy ditch. They dragged him out with some difficulty. The scribe was almost unrecognisable and, seeing Father Eldrim arriving with Mahaut, Lorn ordered that a cloth be laid over his ruined face.

The young woman emitted a harrowing cry upon seeing the body of her husband. Rushing over, she embraced it and moaned:

‘Forgive … Forgive me … I didn’t want to … Forgive me …’

The guards tried to remain grave and impassive, but Mahaut’s pain gripped them. They waited, not knowing what to do. It was finally Father Eldrim who took the young woman by the shoulders and found the words to make her relinquish her husband’s corpse.

Vahrd sighed.

‘And now, Lorn? What do we—?’

But Lorn was no longer there.

‘Lorn?’

Already some distance away, he was walking briskly towards a group of militiamen who were watching the scene with mocking expressions on their faces. There were four of them and they realised too late the danger Lorn represented.

‘Does this amuse you?’

He did not even give them time to reply.

He struck down one with a headbutt right in the face, broke the front teeth of the second with an elbow blow and doubled the third over with a vicious thrust of his knee. The fourth brought his hand to his short sword but Lorn stopped him.

‘You draw that and you die.’

The militiaman’s hand froze and his face paled, seeing the Onyx Guards hastening to join their captain.

‘Go and find Andara,’ Lorn said to him in an icy voice. ‘Go and find Andara and tell him that …’ He hesitated, sighed, and then said: ‘Shit. Tell him this.’

Grasping the militiaman by the collar with one hand, Lorn sent the fist of the other crashing into his face, stunning him, followed by one, two, three more blows that broke his nose and caused blood to spurt forth. Vahrd had to grab hold of the knight to prevent him from killing the man with his bare hands.

That same evening, at the Black Tower, Lorn spoke to Vahrd behind closed doors for an hour before asking Dwain to gather the others. He spoke to them on the ground floor of the keep, beneath the timbers and the floors under repair inside the almost emptied building.

‘I’ve decided we’ll attack tonight. Andara will want to avenge his men and save face. I don’t want to give him the time to do so.’

All eyes turned towards Vahrd who, standing back, held his peace but clearly disapproved of this decision.

‘If we must act tonight,’ said Yeras, ‘that doesn’t leave us much time.’

Indeed, night was already falling.

‘I know. But we’ll benefit from the element of surprise.’

The former scout seemed scarcely convinced but kept silent. He had once almost lost his life in a poorly prepared operation.

‘We still need to pick a target,’ said Vahrd.

Lorn nodded.

‘We have a choice,’ he said. ‘First, we could attack the Broken Sword.’

‘The militia’s headquarters?’ remarked Logan. ‘Risky.’

‘But it would make an impression,’ said Yeras.

‘On both the militiamen, and the population,’ Lorn added.

‘We’d run into strong resistance,’ said Liam. ‘Too strong, no doubt.’

Eriad nodded his head in agreement with this.

‘Say we take the inn by force,’ said Vahrd. ‘What then? Do we set fire to the place? Kill everyone inside?’

‘I wouldn’t mind splitting the skulls of some of these scum,’ said Dwain.

‘We’re not at war,’ objected the blacksmith. ‘Redstone district isn’t the border region of Valmir and the Broken Sword isn’t some Gheltish outpost.’

The argument hit home and a thoughtful silence settled within the keep.

‘Then we could go after Andara alone,’ said Lorn after a moment.

The Onyx Guards listened closely.

‘Cadfeld told me about a house that Andara possesses,’ explained Lorn. ‘Officially, it belongs to a front man, but it’s actually where Andara lives. It’s surrounded by a large garden and protected by a wall. It’s hidden by trees.’

‘That would be perfect,’ noted Yeras. ‘No one to see us or hear us.’

‘And who knows what we would find inside!’ said Logan. ‘That must be where Andara hides his loot.’

‘At any rate, we’ll find Andara there,’ said Dwain, balling his fists.

‘And only a few sentries, if we’re lucky,’ said Liam.

‘That’s what Cadfeld said,’ indicated Lorn.

He looked at his men, who all seemed in agreement. Only Vahrd remained outside his field of vision and he refrained from looking back at him.

‘So it’s decided,’ he decreed. ‘We attack Andara’s house tonight. But to avoid any nasty surprises, one of you will have to go and keep watch on the place now, while the others make ready. A volunteer?’

Yeras wanted to step forward but Eriad beat him to it.

‘Me.’

Lorn hesitated briefly. He appeared to think about it, and then said:

‘All right. But don’t let yourself be seen. If Andara or one of his men spots you, they’ll know something’s up and—’

‘I’ll stay under cover,’ the young man promised.

Surprised at having been rejected, Yeras remained quiet and aimed a questioning look at Vahrd. The blacksmith made no reply, while Lorn gave Liam a slight nod of the head instructing him to bring the meeting to a close.

‘Gentlemen,’ the veteran said, ‘it’s time to get ready.’

The Onyx Guards retired, except for Yeras whom Vahrd discreetly detained.

‘I know you were expecting Lorn to choose you rather than Eriad,’ the blacksmith said. ‘But we have something else in mind for you …’

Less than an hour later, Andara was in a foul mood when Eriad presented himself at the Broken Sword. The militia chief had been drinking alone in his office and was still simmering with rage over the beating Lorn had given four of his men.

‘What brings you here?’ he said in an unfriendly tone. ‘I’ve heard enough about the Onyx Guards for one day …’

‘Exactly. And you’ll be able to rid yourself of them tonight.’

15

Eriad returned after night had fallen, knowing that everything was ready. He had warned Andara, who upon learning of Lorn’s plans had immediately called up his militiamen and a few extra thugs: an opportunity like this to eliminate the Onyx Guard would not happen twice. The trap was laid and only needed to be sprung.

Thirty armed and determined men were waiting for Lorn and the others. Andara wanted no survivors. He had deployed his troops in his house, the garden and the surrounding area. Their orders were to wait until the Onyx Guards had crossed the outer wall before attacking. For two reasons. The first was to place Andara in a situation of legitimate defence: he would be the victim of aggression, his property invaded in the middle of the night, and no one – neither the prefect Yorgast, nor royal justice – could reproach him for protecting his goods and his life. The second reason was that Andara wanted the combat to take place out of sight because it would be combat in name only: he was planning a massacre. At odds of six to one, Lorn and his men stood no chance of escaping the ambush.

Eriad knew that Andara wanted no prisoners and had even promised a bonus to the man who brought him Lorn’s head. The young man told himself he could be the one. After all, wasn’t he the best placed to deliver a fatal blow to the First Knight? Yorgast would perhaps be interested to learn who had killed Lorn. And who could say, perhaps his name would even one day reach the ears of Esteveris? For Eriad was ambitious as well as being a handsome lad. He had the face of an angel, but an unscrupulous one, incapable of feeling the slightest remorse.

It had almost been too easy fooling Lorn and his clique.

And it was almost as easy to draw them into the wolf’s jaws.

Eriad was smiling at this idea as he entered the Black Tower’s courtyard, but his smile was replaced by a puzzled expression when he found the Onyx Guards about to leave in two wagons.

‘Something’s come up,’ Lorn told on. ‘Climb up, we’ll explain to you on the way.’

Caught short, the young man could not refuse the hand that Dwain stretched out to him.

Andara was waiting at the rear of a porch with two of his militiamen when a third came running up to them and identified himself.

‘It’s me,’ he said, halting at the porch’s entrance. ‘Are you there?’

Andara took a step forward from the shadows.

‘Obviously!’ he snapped in annoyance. ‘Don’t just stand there, you cretin!’

Breathless, the man darted a last look behind him before obeying. He had come from the Black Tower, which Andara had ordered him to watch until the Onyx Guards’ departure.

‘It’s on,’ he said. ‘They left.’

‘Was Eriad with them?’

‘Yes.’

‘When will they be here?’

‘In about half an hour, I think.’

Andara raised an eyebrow.

‘That’s seems a little long to me,’ he said. ‘Are you sure?’

‘They’re coming in wagons, that’s why.’

‘Wag—’ Andara started to say. ‘What?’

‘Two of them,’ the man stated.

Perplexed, the militia leader scratched his cheek.

‘But why wagons?’ he wondered in a murmur.

Bah! They’d see, soon enough …

Turning to the two militiamen he’d been waiting with, Andara said:

‘Go and warn the others. Tell everyone to be ready.’

The Onyx Guards halted the wagons in an out-of the-way alley and waited for Yeras, who’d gone ahead as a scout, to find them.

‘Only three sentries,’ he announced in a low voice. ‘One at the gate and two on patrol. No movement inside.’

‘Perfect,’ said Lorn.

The neighbourhood was very quiet, with few residents about. For the most part, it was made up of warehouses, silos, building sites, workshops and waste ground. In the sky, the Great Nebula dispensed a wan light.

Lorn addressed his men.

‘Vahrd and Eriad, you stay here with the wagons and wait for our signal. The rest of you, with me. Ready?’

Everyone nodded.

‘Then here we go.’

‘Be careful,’ said Vahrd.

Hand on the pommel of his sword, Lorn went off, taking long silent and graceful strides, followed by Dwain, Logan, Liam and Yeras. The old blacksmith watched them go, then, tranquilly, he turned towards Eriad and asked:

‘You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of dice on you, would you?’

In concealment along with fifteen other men scattered throughout the garden surrounding his house, Andara raised his eyes towards the sky and cursed. More than an hour had passed since the Onyx Guards had left the Black Tower and they still hadn’t arrived. Had they been delayed? Had they given up at the last moment? Had Lorn smelled a trap?

What if Eriad had been unmasked?

Andara tried to reason with his fears.

An opportunity like this to get rid of Lorn would probably never repeat itself. It was well worth being a little patient. It would really be too stupid to miss their chance, just because they hadn’t waited an extra fifteen minutes.

Lorn and his men would be coming over that wall before long, Andara was sure of it.

Hoisted up by Dwain, Lorn climbed over the outer wall and straddled it. Next, he helped Yeras up beside him, and then it was the others’ turn. Dwain came last, requiring both Logan and Liam give him a lift up.

Lorn let himself drop quietly to the far side and drew his sword, all his senses alert. His men joined him, their weapons also in their fists. They knew what they had to do and were only waiting for a sign from their captain.

Lorn gave it to them before setting off to the right, Dwain at his heels. Liam and Logan went to the left, in order to circle around the immense warehouse that, dark and silent, stood before them. Meanwhile, Yeras began to climb the building without making a sound.

Eriad let nothing show, but his guts were knotted by a mixture of frustration, anger and anxiety. Liam had explained to him in the gently rocking wagon that their objective has changed. It was no longer a question of attacking Andara’s house, but of emptying a warehouse in the port.

Being aware of Andara’s business, Eriad had immediately guessed which warehouse was the target. Nevertheless, he listened as Vahrd explained it to him and confirmed his fears.

To spare Oriale from famine, the city council had been buying up poor quality wheat and transforming it into flour, which it resold, at very low prices, in the poorest districts. The operation was costly but necessary according to the civic leaders: it was designed to prevent rioting in the High Kingdom’s capital. The district prefects were charged with distributing the subsidised flour, permitting Yorgast to enrich himself by diverting part of the stocks. This ill-gotten flour was hidden in a warehouse, waiting to be sold for a handsome price.

According to Vahrd, Lorn had decided to strip this warehouse at the last moment, based on an anonymous tip. It would no doubt be less well defended than Andara’s residence and the blow they would strike would be just as damaging. The blacksmith, at any rate, seemed to prefer this option.

‘And what are we going to do with all this wheat?’ asked Eriad in surprise.

‘Give it away, lad. Give it away …’

In the alley where Vahrd and he were guarding the wagons, Eriad could only think of Andara who was waiting in vain and would be outraged when he found out what had happened. It wasn’t the young man’s fault but he knew Andara well enough to understand that someone would be made to feel his anger. That someone might very well be him, Eriad. Or another. Andara would not tolerate this failure, not to mention the loss of earnings. And the worst thing was, he had removed most of the sentries from the warehouse in order to reassign them to his ambush …

But was this really by chance?

Eriad was not an imbecile and, as time crept by, his suspicions grew. What if he had been unmasked? What if Lorn had charged him with scouting Andara’s residence before the attack in order to give him a chance to warn the militia leader? What if they had been planning to rob the warehouse all along?

More and more worried, Eriad told himself that the Onyx Guards knew and had set him up. Besides, wouldn’t Yeras have been the logical choice to watch Andara’s residence? Wasn’t he the band’s scout and lookout? Of course, Eriad had volunteered first, in order to tip off Andara. But why had Lorn picked him?

Feeling a nervous sweat beading his brow, Eriad realised that Lorn knew. He wanted to give him freedom of movement so he would contact Andara. Lorn knew he would step forward and was even counting on it.

Eriad had been manipulated from beginning to end.

It mattered little how he had been unmasked. Perhaps he had given himself away, after all. He needed to flee before it was too late. Lorn was no doubt waiting for the end of this mission to settle accounts with him, or worse let him leave while spreading word that he had betrayed Andara. That would be signing his death sentence. There was no question of letting that happen. Perhaps Eriad still had a chance to explain things to Andara, but he needed to escape now.

Starting by eliminating Vahrd.

He slowly unsheathed his dagger and turned towards the blacksmith, who had been waiting until now at the entrance to the alley.

But he was no longer in sight.

Eriad sensed the presence behind him too late. He never saw the blow that knocked him out cold.

Vahrd looked scornfully at the body stretched out by his feet and spat on it.

‘Traitor.’

Lorn and Dwain had no trouble getting rid of the two sentries who were patrolling the warehouse. Lorn knocked out his target with a blow to the back of the neck. Dwain lifted his from behind and choked the man until he lost consciousness, indifferent to the frenetic scrabbling of his legs.

Liam and Logan joined them after circling the warehouse.

‘Nobody,’ said Liam.

At the same moment, Vahrd arrived driving one of the wagons. The man guarding the gate stepped forward to force him to halt and ask him his business, but Yeras cut him down with his crossbow, from on top of the roof. The bolt had a small bag of sand instead of a point. Hit in the head, the man would have an aching skull when he woke.

The Onyx Guards hurried to open the gate for Vahrd. They hid the sentry and Logan went to find the other wagon, while Dwain and Liam pushed open the large doors of the warehouse.

Inside, sacks of flour were piled in neat rows.

‘We load everything we can,’ said Lorn.

‘And him?’ asked Liam.

He was pointing at Eriad, lying unconscious and bound in the back of the wagon.

Lorn hesitated.

‘I’ll take care of him when we’ve finished,’ said Vahrd gloomily.

They set to work.

Andara found his spy early the next morning, legs and hands bound together, hanging by the neck from the sign in front of the Broken Sword, with just enough rope to touch the ground on the tips of his toes. Eriad was alive, his eyes bulging and full of tears. A bloody rag stifled his desperate moans.

Exasperated, Andara ordered that his gag be removed first.

‘You idiot,’ he said. ‘It really didn’t take them long to find you out …’

But the young man did not reply.

Making a vile sound, Eric coughed up clots of black blood along with the tongue of a stray dog he’d been forced to keep in his mouth all night long, at the risk of choking to death. Several of the militiamen present retched violently.

One of them vomited.

‘Talk,’ said Andara, lifting the young man’s head by the hair.

He was livid with anger, but this was nothing compared to the rage that came over him when he saw the warehouse where nothing remained but a few burst sacks of flour. He took out his frustration on a sentry whom he almost beat to death, then roared with his bloodied fists in the air, pacing back and forth like a wild beast caught in a trap.

For Yorgast, the lost revenue would be significant but he was rich enough already, so Andara already knew the prefect would not lift a finger. For the militia leader, on the other hand, the setback was severe. The financial loss was enormous, especially as the lost money was not just destined for his pocket, but also to pay or corrupt his henchmen, informers and other collaborators who only served him out of self-interest. But there was also the affront, the public insult which just been heaped upon him.

Because everyone would soon know or guess who had committed the deed and there was nothing he could do about it. The news was probably already spreading throughout the district like wildfire and Lorn Askarian, up in his accursed tower, could simply let people gossip and celebrate, the inhabitants of Redstone laughing at the daring, clever blow that he and his men had just struck against the militia. They had stolen from thieves, seizing contraband goods whose loss could not be reported. Unless he carried out justice himself, the militia leader would be forced to remain silent and grit his teeth.

And if there were still those who doubted whether the Onyx Guards were behind the theft, they all received blatant confirmation that afternoon, when the Black Tower hosted the first of a series of free distributions of flour.

With the compliments of the First Knight of the Realm.

After that, painted crossed swords began to appear on doors throughout the district.