Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (19 page)

A private smile creased his face and he turned into the aisle. A few steps along and the smile faded completely. He’d lost his arrogance a long time ago – roughly about the same time he’d met Robert Douglas.

It was so frustrating not knowing what to do! He’d spent hours in prayer, asking for guidance. He’d talked and listened, spending much time with the Lusaran refugees who struggled across the border. He listened to their stories, their woes; heard the strength and the despair in their voices – and yet, even with all that tumbling together in his mind, he was still no closer to an answer.

Already tired with the day, he stepped out of the church. He could see the bleak sky, outlined by the compact cloister roof. On the ground inside the square, small headstones were layered in icy white from snow that had fallen the day before. There would be more today.

Tucking his hands beneath the folds of his habit, he turned and headed for the refectory, following after the other monks. The moment he stepped inside, the flavour of the air changed and he could smell fresh bread baked that morning. A low and familiar voice murmured his name.

‘Good morning, Father McCauly.’

Aiden turned, then smiled in genuine welcome. ‘Why, Sir Alexander Deverin! How are you?’

The big man came closer, his own smile refreshing the lined face and greying beard. ‘I am very well, Father. And you?’

‘Fit. Very fit. I wasn’t sure what day you would be arriving.’

Deverin spread his hands. ‘I was entirely dependent on the weather, Father. There are heavy drifts of snow in the south, around Bleakstone. I could not leave for two days or I would have been here sooner. I would ask a favour of you, if I may?’

‘Of course,’ Aiden gestured to the cloister door. ‘Let’s walk.’

Deverin followed him out into the cloister, wandering amiably with his hands behind his back. As Master at Arms to Robert’s father, this man had been largely responsible for teaching Robert about all things martial and, to this day, remained faithful to the House of Douglas, despite all the hardships of the last ten years. Aiden had often wondered how Robert would have fared without the invaluable support of men like Deverin. Like himself, Deverin was showing his age, his thick beard almost white now, his face tanned and lined, yet his eyes still sparkled with determination and though he carried his share of battle scars, his body remained fit and healthy.

‘And how is your wife?’ Aiden began. ‘Have you finally settled into married life again?’

Deverin chuckled deeply, ‘Matilde is wonderful, though she has so much energy, she picks me up and sweeps me along with her. For a man my age, I’m not sure that’s so good.’

‘Well, you should have thought of that before you married her.’

‘Aye, I should,’ Deverin grinned. ‘Which brings me to the favour I wanted to ask. I’ll be moving Matilde and the baby to St Julian’s in the next few weeks. I expect I’ll be away much over the coming months, so I was wondering if you would perhaps keep an eye on them. My boy will likely be coming with me, but he’s well old enough to look after himself. It’s Matilde and the baby that worry me. She hasn’t ever been through this with me before.’

‘Of course. I’d be delighted to.’ Aiden accompanied this with a smile, but he wished he could give this man more. Playing guessing games without Robert around was a tiring business.

Aiden chose a door in the passage leading from the cloister to a gate. Beyond were the monastery gardens sitting alongside the village of St Julian’s. The small house he used as his own looked out over the same gardens. He pushed the gate open and tried to find some hint of sun somewhere in the sky.

‘Have you seen any of the others?’ Deverin kept his voice low, aware of the lay brothers who worked in the vegetable
patch a stone’s throw away. ‘I saw Lord Daniel arrive late last night.’

‘And Owen?’

‘He travels slowly these days. I don’t expect him until tomorrow.’

‘Payne should arrive this evening, but with the weather the way it is, I hope he arrives sooner or the roads may be blocked.’

‘And Robert? Any word on when he might return?’

Aiden replied, ‘Soon, that’s all I know. He keeps the specifics of his trips from me, so I can’t give a better answer than that. You know what he’s like, especially these days.’

‘Aye.’ Deverin paused before the village gate. The common stretched out before them, ringed on the east side by huge oak trees now bare of leaves. Beyond the common, the village jumbled together, tall houses and brown thatching covered in snow, chimneys belching smoke into the morning. ‘Has he talked to you?’ Deverin sounded like a man afraid he was committing treason.

‘A little.’

‘I have no wish for you to give out confidences,’ Deverin rushed to assure him, ‘but …’ he paused, obviously troubled, ‘I have concerns I dare not voice to his face.’

Aiden’s eyes widened and he turned to the big man. Deverin was a soldier, a warrior at heart, but a man who loved peace and was willing to risk his life to achieve it. ‘What concerns?’

Was Aiden not the only one who felt like this?

‘Has he told you what he plans?’

‘He’s not yet explained the goal he wishes to achieve. I believe that’s why he’s called you all here now.’

A little relief flashed in Deverin’s eyes, but the hard core of concern overwhelmed it. Deverin looked away, his gaze tightening, his jaw set. ‘He’s changed.’

There was so much in those few words, enough to send new ripples of fear through Aiden. He couldn’t pretend not to understand what the man was talking about. ‘Yes, he has changed.’

‘I must see to my men, but I will attend mass in the morning. Until then, I will take my leave of you, Father.’
Deverin gave him a small bow, then pushed the common gate open. He was three long strides away before Aiden spoke, his question surging forth against better sense.

‘If you’re so unsure, why are you here?’

The soldier paused, turned and came back. ‘Why are you?’

‘That was not my question. Have you not served your time with Robert? Will he not allow you to retire in comfort, to enjoy your new family?’

A genuine smile spread across Deverin’s face. ‘Those were Matilde’s very words to me when I left to come here. But you know it’s not Robert who asks this of me. My honour demands it. Much as I love Robert, I would give the same loyalty to any man who had the power and the will to free Lusara. We all know Robert is the only man who can do this.’

The open honesty in the man’s eyes was more refreshing than the cold winter’s morning.

‘And my concerns are nothing,’ Deverin continued, ‘in the face of the destruction of my country. I’ll follow Robert until Lusara is free or until I die.’ With that, Deverin turned and began walking away once more, his final comment floating on the clear air.

‘And so will you.’

*

By dusk, thick wretched clouds had covered the sky, drowning the sunset and warning of a bad night to come. An hour after that, the first snow began to fall, wiping out texture and feature until Aiden could barely see across the courtyard to the infirmary.

Feeling the chill in the air, he got up from his desk and put more wood on the fire, watching as the flames danced around it. The room warmed slowly, but the light was good, rich and golden, bringing colour to the simple furnishings, round table, three chairs, tall bookcase, desk and rug on the floor. Across the windows were his one luxury: heavy drapes to keep in the heat, a deep green which suited any season.

He wandered to the window, pushed the cloth aside a little and peered out into the swirling snow. He spent too many hours looking out of this window, across the gardens and the
common, over the roofs of the village and in the direction of Lusara. Of course, the border was a day’s ride away, and though he would never see it from here, it was always in his mind: that line between danger and safety, between good and evil, between life and death.

He’d spent the last eight years enjoying the comforts of St Julian’s. He’d been able to work, to write his letters and books; the physical demands on his body were minimal. He was in excellent health for a man of sixty and felt little of the infirmities he should, by rights, be suffering from – but a large part of that was because he walked each and every day, and ensured he took his turn at drawing water from the well and chopping wood for the kitchen fires.

A few of the monks, he was sure, thought he was crazy for doing work that could easily be done by others, but two years locked in a prison cell had taught Aiden that there was a joy to be had in any task that was performed in freedom.

Some commotion from the courtyard intruded on his thoughts. He quickly picked up his cloak and swung it over his shoulders. Collecting the lamp from his desk, he hurried down the stairs and outside.

The night air bit with a vengeance. Huge flakes of snow almost blinded him, but he could see shapes moving through the abbey gate: people, two horses and a small cart.

More refugees.

Without hesitation, Aiden headed towards them. Already some of the brothers had arrived to see to the people, their voices rising above the noise, calming, reassuring. Aiden did his best to help, urging tired and terrified children indoors where it was warmer, issuing instructions for the animals to be taken care of, all with that same deep well of something he might have identified as despair if he hadn’t already determined never to tread that path.

So many people now, fleeing tyranny.

There were some twenty of them in all, the last still struggling through the gate, some limping, some carrying meagre possessions. And behind them, a figure he recognised with a sudden mixture of delight and overwhelming relief.

‘Robert!’

The curtain of snow almost parted and Robert emerged, his dark hair damp around his shoulders. Tall, powerful, his cloak muddied, in his arms he carried a child; his horse bore a woman.

He looked a little hunched with exhaustion, his steps almost stumbling. The dark gaze flickered to Aiden, full of pain. A flash of a smile spoke silent greeting, and then he attended to his charges, handing the child over to a monk before helping the woman down from his horse.

Aiden lost sight of Robert after that. Some of the refugees were sick, others were wounded. As they settled, some in the infirmary, some into the guest quarters, a familiar quiet fell over them, one Aiden had been witness to before. This was relief, this was thanksgiving, but it was also the sadness of people displaced and dispossessed, who wondered what their lives would be from this day forward.

He spoke to none of them at length. The time for that would be later, perhaps tomorrow, or in a week, when the shock had worn off, when they would have most need of whatever words of comfort and counsel he could offer.

It tore him apart to do this work. It tore him apart that it
needed
to be done.

And then the church bell tolled midnight and he emerged back into the courtyard with Robert following close behind. He paused long enough to get a good look at the man, framed as he was in the flickering light of a row of torches along the walls. ‘Come into the house. You look about ready to collapse,’ he ordered.

‘You’ve convinced me. I’ve been travelling through snow since I left Shan Moss more than a week ago. I could almost believe it’s been following me deliberately.’

‘And what were you doing in Shan Moss?’

‘Is Deverin here yet? And Owen? I lost track of time. I thought I’d be here two days ago, but I got delayed.’

‘The refugees?’

‘Yes.’

Aiden didn’t question him further; the story would emerge
soon enough – or at least, the parts of it Robert was prepared to share. He led Robert inside and up the stairs into the small bedroom he kept for these visits. Leaving Robert to settle, he went into his study to retrieve some coals to start a fire. By the time he returned, Robert had dropped his cloak over a chair and collapsed on the bed. His eyes were closed, his breathing gentle and even.

With a smile, Aiden set the coals in the fireplace and waited long enough to make sure they had caught. Then he spread a blanket over Robert and left as silently as he could. He had prayers to say before bed, and not just for those poor people across the courtyard.

*

The morning brought a gloomy half-light which spread over fields thick with snow. Every flat surface on the monastery matched that grey-white, leaving only damp stone corners here and there to mark occasional features. The walk back from morning prayers froze Aiden’s nose, forced the air out of his mouth in dense clouds and made him fear he’d lost his toes completely.

Without pausing, he pushed his door open and headed upstairs to his study – where he stopped at the door.

Robert stood there, naked from the waist up, holding a dressing to a wound in his side, while a monk from the infirmary wound a bandage around his middle. The monk smiled a greeting and Robert raised his eyebrows in the closest thing Aiden was likely to get as apology.

Why, in the name of the gods, hadn’t he said something last night? More to the point, why hadn’t Aiden noticed that Robert was injured?

‘Good morning.’ Aiden stripped off his cloak and hung it up, moving to build up the fire so Robert would at least avoid freezing to death. As he turned back, he noticed something sitting on the desk that hadn’t been there last night. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s for you,’ was Robert’s reply.

Frowning, Aiden moved towards the cloth-covered bundle and lifted the wrap away. Beneath was an exquisite book stand,
carved and detailed like the woven threads of a bough of ivy, solid and strong. Sitting on the sturdy ledge was a small softleather pouch. Gingerly Aiden opened it and slid a silver-bound disk of polished glass into his palm.

‘I don’t understand,’ he murmured, looking up to find Robert watching him with thinly veiled expectation.

‘They’re a gift for you.’ Robert said with a little smile on his face. ‘You shouldn’t have to squint or get a sore neck when you read. That’s all. It’s nothing.’

Aiden was overwhelmed. The book stand was heavy and would have been a trial to carry; the glass was very fragile. ‘Thank you,’ he said, the words inadequate.