Betrayal (11 page)

“Who profits then?” Berengar pried.

Caffrey sighed. “The King profits. His army grows in war. His pillage and plunder increases. His power expands as he identifies enemies within and without. You stand no chance of righting this situation because you have no capacity to deal with the truth of it.”

“Tell us the truth and we will decide in what manner to deal with it,” Berengar insisted.

“This is the entire reason of why your efforts here are pointless. I have told you the truth plainly and you do not choose to believe it. You have no scale on which to weigh the difference between truth and lies. You work your way up the predatory chain hoping to find answers from the man that gives orders to the man that gives orders to the man that carries out orders. I tell you to go straight to the top and demand your answers, if you want them so badly. But you are given pause because you see the fruitlessness of storming into the throne room with two against the world. That is where this ultimately leads, if anywhere.”

“Who gave orders to you about the ambush outside your gate then, Caffrey?”

Caffrey narrowed his eyes at Berengar. “I resent that you think I take orders from any man. They send me messages, but I am ordered by no one.”

“You appear to be doing what I say.”

Caffrey actually snorted and then coughed. “Stay as long as you like, if you believe you have what it takes to maintain this position of influence, captain.”

Berengar shifted his weight and frowned. “Who sent you the message that the ambush was to occur?”

“The King sends his orders of dark doings through his dark men so that he does not have to dirty his hands, lips, or name with the deeds directly. And you still have failed to ask me whether I actually had any involvement in the treachery of which you accuse me – deeds which I have already told you that I did not need for profit and did not desire for instability.”

“Innocent men usually decry their innocence without having to be prompted to do so.”

“But so do the guilty,” Caffrey declared. “And I beg to differ in that innocent men often choose to remain silent. I also suggest that a man can be guilty of any number of things while not holding guilt in the one thing for which you might accuse him. I might propose that I fall in that latter category. For what man in this world can claim pure innocence if he has lived longer than a year?”

“So you are innocent of the betrayal and innocent of involvement in the underlying conspiracy it represents? That’s what you claim, Lord Caffrey?”

Caffrey shrugged his shoulders with his back on the carpet and then winced. “It is what I would say whether I was guilty or innocent. So until you find your magic scale that can weigh truth against lies, my denials are as pointless as your questions.”

“Some men have physical tells for their lies,” Berengar stated. “I have questioned my share of liars in my time. Liars have tells and truth has a ring.”

“If you are having to question your closest brothers-in-arms while hanging them upside down from a tree, Captain Berengar, I would question your sense of lies and truth which preceded that moment. Every man thinks he can judge character and every man is fooled throughout his life.”

“Did you know or meet with Captain Forseth before the night of the ambush?” Nisero interrupted.

Caffrey turned his gaze in the lieutenant’s direction. “A good question, but no way to rightly assess my answer, as I said.”

“Answer anyway, ” Berengar ordered.

“I did not know who had been chosen to survive that night. Men simply arrived at my doorstep and waited for the deeds to be finished,” Caffrey said. “I did not even let the scoundrels in to taint my halls. A man that entertains a corruption against his fellows will typically do so again and again for ever descending prices. I did not wish to take the chance that one of the betrayers of the Guard had been bribed to cut me down, by some paranoid duke seeking to still all tongues.”

Berengar and Nisero exchanged dubious a look.

“I can’t believe it,” Nisero turned away. “I don’t want to believe it.”

“But does it ring for you?” Caffrey pressed. “Is it the music of truth you so wanted to hear?”

Nisero thought back to a similar taunt Berengar had given about truth when he and his daughter had been arguing. It stung to hear it turned back upon them.

“So you knew of the betrayal,” Berengar said, “but claim you did not directly participate nor profit yourself.”

“Captain, are you the kind that sees failing to intervene in the evil of other men as a form of evil in and of itself?”

Berengar let go of Caffrey’s throat and stood over him. His neck showed a crimson rash from the captain’s chokehold. Caffrey rubbed at his own neck and showed his teeth.

Berengar said, “Most right thinking persons recognize such a thing as evil. The fact that you pose the question suggests that you see the logic in it as well. The possession of knowledge brings with it the responsibility of that possession.”

“I pay well for knowledge and possession.” Caffrey rose up to his elbows, but remained on the floor. He looked toward the remains of his book and sighed. “If I gain something of value for the great cost I put into attaining it, I believe I have a right to act on it, but no responsibility to men that lack the resources or the foresight to gain the knowledge for themselves. The message about the coming violence at my gate was merely a respectful informing of the temporary inconvenience. It was not an invitation to participate.”

Berengar took a step forward and Caffrey fell back to the floor with his hands up before his face. “What are you about to do, captain?”

“I’m going to make you fully understand that you are indeed a participant now.”

“I have answered all your questions truthfully.”

Berengar nodded slowly. “And now you need to learn that having knowledge and failing to act is itself choosing the wrong, and bears real consequences for yourself and others.”

Caffrey scooted along the carpet away from Berengar. “You will not get away with this violence.”

Berengar pursued at a leisurely pace. He picked up one of the loose pages from the remains of the book on the floor. Caffrey sucked in breath to speak again, but Berengar crammed the page into Lord Caffrey’s mouth until he gagged on the vile, dusty taste of it.

Berengar held Caffrey’s jaw closed on the wet paper. “You should have said those things to the dark men sending you dark messages.”

The doors to the library boomed loudly as they were struck from the outside. The wooden frame splintered but held as Caffrey’s men battered and shouted outside.

“Captain, we need to go,” Nisero urged.

Berengar patted Caffrey’s cheek. “I will come back. If I find that you have lied, no amount of wealth or power will protect you from the wrath you have unleashed. Do my words have the ring of truth, Lord Caffrey?”

The two men ran across the room and up a spiral wooden staircase to a balcony bearing a second section of shelves. Caffrey rolled to his stomach and watched. The two men drew their swords and smashed out the colored glass in the window frames before stepping through into the night air.

Caffrey smelled moisture in the air and he thought about all his books.

Lord Caffrey spit out the ruined page and ran up the spiral stairs. The men still battered the solid doors behind him. He looked out over the broken widows and saw the ropes dangling from the second floor ledge. Three riders galloped away across his land in the dark.

Caffrey considered whether he should send warning where he thought they were probably going next. He whispered to himself. “I want you and your target both to experience the nasty surprise you have coming.”

Caffrey straightened his torn robe and descended the stairs as the impacts still sounded from the doors. “Hold on, you fools. I do not need my entire library destroyed this night.”

The soldiers gathered on the plain across both sides of the roadway, facing east. The horses and wagons were loaded for war.

Nisero recognized the looks of fear and excitement on the faces of men from ordinary walks of life conscripted into service. Their full compliment of training had probably been a speech about war and service to the King, if even that much. Their immediate officers probably had little more war experience. These men were gathered for numbers and the intimidation of mass.

If actual bloodshed began, the men would be little more than pawns. Nisero was not sure that the eastern kingdom wasn’t doing the same thing. They had been at war with their neighbors for far longer, so chances were that the former farmers and merchants’ sons that still lived within their ranks were far more seasoned than these green civilians in borrowed war garb.

The typical hope of such displays was to bring foreign kings to the negotiating table. Men would then return to their farms and families claiming to be disappointed that there was no fighting, having no knowledge of the terms of the peace. In reality, they were exhausted from their terror and relief. Then, they told lies over ale of how many enemy heads they removed on the field of battle.

Nisero was not sure how well this tact would play, if the eastern kingdom did march on the border. He did not recall the last time any king had come to war over the murder of his son and heir. The lieutenant did not know the ways of kings like the ways of common men, but he had to imagine that the blood ran hotter and the taste for vengeance would be harder to sate.

He had only witnessed a handful of large scale displays used to sue for peace in his time. None of those had compared in size to these ranks of farmer soldiers. The Elite Guard had been more often sent on pursuits and strikes where peace was only to be found on the other side of violence, and sometimes not even then.

Nisero bowed his head inside his hood. He and Berengar made their way through the conscripted ranks’ camp behind the staging area of the regular army. The risk of being identified was far less than among men with whom Nisero had served and even commanded in various campaigns. With the recent effort to track him, he was not sure how much less the risk was though.

He wondered if Captain Forseth and the surviving Guard were present. He wondered about Arianne’s husband, Dreth. At the very least, none of them seemed to expect Captain Berengar and Lieutenant Nisero to be walking through the midst of the King’s army.

Nisero’s mind drifted to the words of Lord Caffrey on the floor of his library not two days earlier. Conspiracies, lies, murder, and betrayal that might go up as far as the King himself was included in the accusations. The one thing Caffrey said that Nisero fully believed was that he had no way of measuring the difference between a lie and the truth.

“Look lively,” Berengar said to him. “We’re on the move.”

Nisero nodded, but did not answer aloud. He hoisted his bundle up onto one shoulder as Berengar continued to carry his under his arm, with the pike pointed out ahead of him. Nisero used his long, dark pike like a walking stick.

Ahead, the bulk of the carriage made the curve on the main trail. The driver’s head turned in their direction and the reins went taut on the double lines of four horses. The wagon appeared as large and ornate as a fine villa. It almost seemed too large to be supported by two axles. The wagon rolled to a halt. The driver remained cowled inside the robes and under the tall, black guardsmen’s hat.

Berengar and Nisero rounded the back and opened the door to the carriage. They tossed in their bundles and climbed inside, closing the door behind them. The reins snapped outside and the horses strained for a few seconds before they brought the great weight of the grand wagon into motion again.

The inside was more impressive than the outside. There was room to stand up straight. It sported decorative columns, tables, shelves, benches as large and plush as lounging couches, tapestries, and gold trim everywhere. It was a theater and a home unto itself.

Two thumps drew their attention to the man tied and gagged on the floor near one of the benches. His bonds still held around his hands and feet, but he had worked about half of the material of the gag down out of his mouth. They did not need him to begin yelling.

Berengar walked over and grabbed the man’s legs, dragging him away from the bench where he was bumping. The captain stuffed the gag back into the man’s teeth and tightened it. The captive man sighed and went slack inside his bonds in the corner of the rocking wagon.

Berengar spoke to him. “Keeping you alive is a great inconvenience and risk for us. It is a favor we do for you. You have nothing to offer us that we need in exchange other than your cooperation and silence. Those are small payments in our situation for something you must value very highly – your life. So, don’t convince me that taking your life is the better or necessary choice.”

The man stayed silent and Berengar rejoined Nisero where they unrolled their bundles. The men shed their cloaks and pulled on the colorful uniforms. They bound the scalloped, white collars around their necks. Then, they pulled on the dyed, leather helmets opting to fold the flaps down on the sides to better conceal their faces. They kept their swords on their hips, but slid them around slightly behind to hide that they were not standard fare for this particular uniform.

“Do we look like carriage guardsmen?” Berengar smoothed the creases on his new attire.

Nisero raised one eyebrow. He reached up and adjusted one of the leather flaps by the captain’s face to better conceal his scar. “You should have shaved, sir.”

“Perhaps. I doubt we will be discovered for want of shaving.” He rubbed at his chin. “It's warmer anyhow.” Berengar lifted up his pike and stood by the door to the carriage.

“These uniforms are foolish,” Nisero complained. “The bright colors might as well be a target for archers, and these collars are not fit for lap dogs.”

“They definitely represent a different path of service. If we had followed this line of work, we might be far better off.”

“I can’t imagine a more useless life than being a show piece for nobles as they ride around the countryside in wheeled palaces.”

Berengar tried to get comfortable. His new clothes were beginning to itch, which he stoically ignored. “Maybe the uniforms are so brightly colored so that any archers will pin the guards from a distance instead of the nobles.”

“In that regard,” Nisero said, “we are very much the same.”

“How so?”

“Using us as a target for death has served the noble class for some reason, and this situation is due to that.”

Berengar turned and peered back out the window beside the door as they rolled along the trail. “To be fair, I am only here because I chose to help you. The nobles would have been happy to allow me to live out my life in quiet obscurity, if I had chosen to remain uninvolved.”

Outside, the bright, triangular banners of the King waved and flapped atop poles. They marked the rally points of the various regiments and preparation camps within the spread of the expanded army. Nisero watched them pass. He lost count as they rolled deeper through the heart of an army set against them and the wronged king of the east.

“Get ready,” Berengar instructed. “Play it straight. He is not even likely to address us. Arianne may be the most vulnerable, but we just have to get him inside and the door closed.”

“You make abduction sound quite easy,” Nisero quipped.

Berengar shook his head and smiled slightly, glancing back at the man bound on the floor near the corner. “You think it would be with all our recent practice.”

Captain Berengar opened the door and stepped out. Nisero started to follow, but then realized that he did not have his pike. He looked around the floor not seeing it at first. They should have done a better job of storing their bundles, he thought. The man would notice as soon as he came in.

Nisero spotted the dark, narrow pike on the floor. The lieutenant broke his paralysis and grabbed up the largely ceremonial version of the weapon.

He scrambled out and took to the opposite side of the fold down steps from Berengar. The captain said, “I thought you had backed out on me.”

“And let you have all the fun? Never,” Nisero replied, staring forward at attention.

***

The Duke smoothed down the front of his fine, dark garments on both sides of the gold encrusted buttons. His black beard was sculpted down into a tight, severe point like a cone.

He was surrounded by other nobles of lesser rank that Nisero did not recognize. Nisero supposed that Caffrey was technically of lesser rank than the Duke, but the lieutenant had a sense that Lord Caffrey carried far more power, influence, and threat than many men above him. They did not seem to carry themselves with the same air of danger that Caffrey had about him.

As Nisero’s eyes traced over the Duke, he thought about the fact that this entire plan was built off of the fact that Caffrey had made an offhanded comment about a Duke profiting from the betrayal. It was a shaky reasoning at best for what they were about to attempt.

The other soldiers surrounding the men and walking with them concerned Nisero more. They had not planned on dealing with personal guards. These men wore light armor marked from use. They were not regular army and there was nothing ceremonial about them. These were men hired or assigned to protect. The Duke was the highest rank present, so they might all enter the carriage with him. There was certainly room enough and Nisero counted ten. They would not be able to take all of them and as soon as the actual driver was discovered tied on the floor, their plan would be foiled.

There was not much chance of them running through the camp and escaping in one piece even in the back sections occupied mostly by farmers. They would also have Arianne in tow.

He fought to keep his composure. The Duke and other men paid little attention to Berengar or Nisero in their ceremonial décor. However the Duke did eye Arianne on the bench above for a long stretch but then looked away. Nisero thought he read suspicion, but it could have been the perpetual face of disgust that many nobles seemed to carry when their faces were at rest.

The Duke approached and stepped up onto the first step leading into the carriage. He stared inside for a moment between Nisero and Berengar before turning back around to face the lower nobility now gathered up closer. Nisero thought about the bundles in the floor. He heard a thump that vibrated through the carriage’s body behind him. He thought that might be the driver putting up a fight again, but it might have been one of the horses kicking against the harnesses.

Nisero became aware of the eyes of the fighting men drifting across his face. If they were worth a fraction of what they were paid, they’d be eyeing the guards on the carriage more closely than they were. Nisero did not know or recognize any of them, but that did not mean they would not recognize him from previous campaigns or from the posters that covered the kingdom.

The Duke spoke in a deep voice. “This army will need to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. That goes for regular fighters as well as conscripted men. I do not need the divisions under my charge to draw any negative attention for falling out of ranks. They can all fall bloody on the field of battle, if it comes to that, but I will not be made embarrassed by a misstep or stumble on the march. Hear me?”

The others mumbled their agreements. The fighting men turned their attention out beyond the road. That was good form in practice and for Nisero personally, but they should have been searching the carriage as well.

“I am away then,” the Duke said as he turned and entered. “I may be back from the capital in time for the march, but I expect perfection whether I am here or not. Failure is the business of the lords of lesser dukes and not for men that answer to me.”

The men babbled their farewells.

Nisero and Berengar exchanged a quick look, waiting a beat. They fed their pikes back through the opening and nearly scrambled up inside together. Nisero pulled up the stairs and Berengar closed and latched the door. The lieutenant tried not to make eye contact with the men outside as the door latched.

Berengar walked up behind the Duke as Nisero thumped the forward wall with his pike. He heard the reins snap and the leather around the horses strained as they struggled to bring the weight behind them into motion. The carriage began to roll, but not nearly quick enough for Nisero’s tastes.

The lieutenant glanced out the window seeing the lower nobility and their guards wandering back toward the banners over the staging areas. They were leaving, but not fast enough for Nisero’s liking. If the next bit got loud, they would surely hear.

“What is this?” the Duke questioned.

Nisero dropped his pike and turned.

“Duke Aedwrath?” Berengar walked up beside the noble.

Aedwrath looked from the bundles and discarded cloaks on the floor to the man tied and gagged on his side in the corner. The Duke was processing the scene slowly. He was not moving to flee or struggle yet. “What is going on here?”

Berengar drew his sword and lifted the blade up under Duke Aedwrath’s chin. The Duke took a step away, but the captain seized the man’s bicep and turned the sword to rest the point under the Duke’s chin, lifting his head at an awkward angle.