The Ciphers of Muirwood (12 page)

“Good evening,” Maia stammered, still feeling a little flushed.

“A quick word with you both,” the Aldermaston said in a kindly voice that was at odds with his expression. He looked so solemn and grave.

Maia backed away from the door to give them room to enter. Suzenne rose from the table and quickly fetched a shawl to cover her shoulders, even though the room was stifling. Maia sent a thought to the Leering and damped down the flames. She felt awkward meeting the Aldermaston in her nightclothes, but nothing could be done about it now.

The Aldermaston’s wife closed the door.

“What is it?” Maia asked, feeling her stomach twist with anxiety.

“Ill news came on the heels of this storm,” the Aldermaston said, his voice deep and unworried. “I wanted you to know instantly, Marciana, and it is appropriate for your companion to know as well. Please sit.”

Maia was too nervous to sit, but she obeyed him and joined Suzenne back at the table. Dread had driven away their earlier frivolity.

“We received word from Comoros,” the Aldermaston con
tinued, “that your mother, the queen, is to be interred here at
Muirwood in a simple ossuary and with no ceremony. The sheriff of Mendenhall is to observe the service and no one else is permitted to
attend.” His voice was so tender. “The sheriff made inquiries about
Suzenne’s new companion today and pressed me for information
about you. I think the rain and wet made it more difficult for him to
recognize you. Be on your guard. He is cunning and persistent. He
seeks to curry favor with your father by being dutiful to his orders.”

Maia’s heart panged. “So I cannot attend my mother’s interment?”

The Aldermaston shook his head no. “It would not be wise to reveal your presence at Muirwood too soon, my dear.”

“There is more,” the Aldermaston’s wife said. She gave Suzenne a sad look. “The sheriff received word today from Comoros. Celia told us this afternoon after finding the letter. One of Dodleah Price’s brothers attempted to escape Pent Tower. It was the eldest, Tobias, who had not seen his newborn babe. He was caught before he could leave the city and executed on the tower green in front of his father and the rest of his brothers.” Her voice strained with emotion. “The sheriff was given orders to account for Dodleah’s presence here at Muirwood daily. He was instructed to watch vigilantly for news of the pending executions of the rest of the Prices. If Dodleah attempts to flee, he is to be hunted and killed on the spot.”

Suzenne’s face went white as her chemise. “Oh, no,” she breathed, her face twisting with grief. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

The Aldermaston turned to Maia, his face a composed mask. His voice dropped even further. “There is also news from Hautland that the King of Dahomey was captured and is being held for ransom. One hundred and fifty thousand marks. It is said the amount would more than deplete Dahomey’s treasury. It exceeds the ransom requested when his father was captured in Paeiz.”

Maia’s heart sank. One hundred and fifty thousand marks. It was her fault that he had gone to Naess in the first place; his ship had taken her there. She remembered the look of desperation on his face as he had pleaded with her not to double-cross him.

“Maia, do not betray me. Forget my other promises. I should have asked for this one first. I was too afraid to ask. The hetaera always betray those they love. Do not love me then. I could not bear it if you betrayed me . . .”

This settled it. Collier would never forgive her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kishion’s Threat

I
t was anticipated that on the day of the execution there would be snow, but it was a mild winter’s morning, all blue sky and icy air—the kind of day where children would be flinging clumps of slushy ice at each other under normal conditions. Instead, they had assembled on the green to watch men die.

It was cold enough that Lady Deorwynn’s nose stung, but she had layered herself in thick velvets and a heavy mantle to ward off the chill. The mantle had cost five hundred marks and was exquisitely designed, with gold stitching woven throughout, a costly fur lining around the fringe, and tiny glittering gemstones that flashed when the light struck them just so. She wore silver fox-fur gloves, and though the jewels around her throat, ears, and wrists were unseen, she felt them. Their presence reassured her.

Murer stood next to her, dressed in a flattering gown that showed off her trim figure. That gown had nearly cost two thousand marks. Instead of a large cape and hood that would have hidden her immaculate dress, she wore a fox-fur shawl that she had let down around her shoulders, revealing the twisting curls of her elegant hair. The effect was somewhat ruined by her constant fidgeting.

“Be still, Murer,” Lady Deorwynn chided.

“I do not understand why we even need be here,” Murer said sullenly. “I pray I shall not
faint
.”

“That is the very reason. You must show strength and courage. These men are traitors to your lord father.”

“My lord
step
father,” Murer whined under her breath.

“Be silent!” Lady Deorwynn sidled up closer to her daughter, her voice dropping low and dangerous. “Some words are not to be toyed with, Murer. You must get that into your head. Our Family has never been as vulnerable as it is right now. Crabwell is undermining me with the king. The earls are starting to show their teeth. I must show
them
who has sharper teeth!”

“But it is so cold. I thought this shawl would do.”

“You should have thought of that before coming out in the snow like that. By the Blood, Daughter, you can be such a fool.”

She watched Murer’s cheeks flush, and not from the chill, and the girl’s eyes burned with anger and resentment. Lady Deorwynn hated to reprimand her girls in public, but truly she wondered if neither of them had inherited her wits. By the time she was Murer’s age, she had already accomplished some grand schemes.

“Where is Father?” Murer asked after a while, searching the assembled nobles. “Oh, there he is. With
Jayn.
”

Her tone grated on Lady Deorwynn’s already fragile nerves. She cast a surreptitious glance and her blood began to seethe. She blinked, trying to keep her expression neutral, but her thoughts were black with rage. On the day of his enemies’ execution, the king was flirting with one of his wife’s ladies-in-waiting. She gritted her teeth, trying to stop herself from storming over and banishing the interloper to the darkest nights of Naess. She knew her husband had a wandering eye. He was a
man
; he could not help himself. She had hired Jayn Sexton after dismissing the last girl who had attracted him, hoping a woman as young as his daughter would be less of a temptation.

It was Jayn’s own shy coyness that probably appealed to him—in a world where there were so many courtiers seeking his notice, she had achieved it by not seeking it at all. There was a studied innocence in her youthful expression, but she was a girl with secrets. Lady Deorwynn had recognized that too late. Well, she would ferret them out.

“Who do you think Father will choose to be my husband?” Murer asked, disrupting her chafing thoughts. “Now that all the Price boys will be put down, that is. I had my heart set on Gates, but he will die. I had hoped to persuade Father to let me entreat for his life. He would have been so grateful.”

“You are truly a fool,” Lady Deorwynn said testily. “As I have told you before, you will not marry one of the nobles of Comoros. You are a princess, Murer.”

“But cannot a princess pardon someone who is at fault? Why could I not pardon Gates?”

“A princess does not have that power. Are you really so naïve? No, I see by your smirk you are toying with me. You get pleasure from vexing me.”

“Not at all, Mother,” Murer said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “So who is my husband to be?”

“Your lord father is considering Dahomey, to divert their attention from war.”

Murer furrowed her brow. “But the king is being held prisoner! If he pays the ransom, he will be penniless!”

“Yes, and all the more pliable as an ally if your father provides you with a generous marriage portion. Money persuades people, Murer. Surely you have not forgotten that lesson. Marks are seeds that produce prosperity.”

Which was why, she realized, she was at such odds with Crabwell. The chancellor’s aim was to seize all the wealth of the abbeys for the Crown. There was no telling how much coin was being wasted on the frivolous reconstruction of the abbeys. Each one cost a sizable ransom! But Lady Deorwynn knew that men were best kept in check when
their
wealth was connected to the success of their ruler. The men of Comoros would grow resentful if her husband accumulated the rewards for himself. Resentment turned into disloyalty, which turned into treason. Much better to buy the people’s good faith with ample land grants, manor houses, ranks, and privileges. Then, periodically, topple one of the nobles who fell out of favor and give his rewards to another. Surely that was the best way to keep men in check. Crabwell disagreed. As a greedy man himself, he wanted control of the finances in the king’s name.

Lady Deorwynn rubbed her swollen abdomen. Surely part of her worry was a result of the pregnancy. It had always been an awkward time for her. Her moods shifted mercurially. Her ankles were fat, her cheeks a little puffy. She was used to the sway she normally had over her husband, and seeing him fawn over a child infuriated her.

She watched as the king patted Jayn’s hand. A sharp spasm of jealousy shot through Lady Deorwynn. The Sexton Family was a rising one, a Family who sought greater prominence in the affairs of the realm. Did they really think they would prosper by dangling their daughter in front of her husband in such a manner? Did they not realize that so many favors and bequests came as a result of
her
influence on the king’s mind? There were so many powerful, headstrong men in this kingdom, but all of them were blind. A woman ruled them, and they did not even know it. Men
needed
to be ruled.

The gates of the tower creaked and groaned loudly, and a hush fell over the snow-strewn grounds. Murer ceased her fidgeting, and the king ceased his flirting. An ominous stillness filled the air, marred by the squeaky axles of the cart being used to transport the condemned.

Lady Deorwynn tried to suppress a look of triumph as the cart rumbled past the royal entourage. The crowd silently parted, making way for it to pass. There was the aged earl, his scowl evident even at a distance. He stood erect, proud, and defiant as a Price would. He had watched his son die with grim solemnity. Even after the execution, he had refused to sign the Act of Submission. This was the moment the realm needed to see. It would force the rest to submit. For if the Price Family fell . . . what chance did they have?

Some whispered that the Medium would save him, that it always preserved valued mastons. What rubbish and nonsense. History was replete with examples that proved the theory false. The Medium did
not
save mastons. It served only those who compelled it to serve. It delivered to them their most intense thoughts and desires. It had delivered the King of Comoros into her bed. It had made her the queen of the realm.

The only thing it had not delivered to her—yet—was her accursed stepdaughter, Maia. It was only a matter of time.

“It is so quiet,” Murer whispered.

Lady Deorwynn wanted to smack her. The cart reached the edge of the gallows, and the Price sons and father were escorted to the scaffold, where the headsman awaited them. They had watched their eldest son and brother murdered on that very spot. Nothing had saved him—not their prayers or their faith or his maston chaen.

Only the father was allowed to speak. He stood on the gallows, his arms hanging limp at his sides. He wore a thin shirt, despite the cold, and his breeches were scuffed and dirty from his long confinement. Lady Deorwynn could see the glint of the chaen peeking from his collar. Her mind wandered to his youngest boy, Dodleah, who was sniveling and hiding in Muirwood. She wondered how long it would take before he learned of the death of his Family. Once he did, she was certain he would be quick to leave his sanctuary and join them in an early grave.

Finally the old man was done. Lady Deorwynn was sick of his little speech, although she had listened to but little of it. She was anxious to be inside again where it was warm. The babe inside her squirmed anxiously, as if it too could feel the danger. Would it be another son? Or a daughter?

The father was brought to the block, his sons standing by gravely. Was one of them weeping? None of them flinched. The father knelt in front of the block. Lady Deorwynn wondered if someone would need to restrain him, but he faced his death with courage and dignity. He had blathered something about the Apse Veils, so perhaps he did not believe this to be the end.

Lady Deorwynn’s attention shifted to the executioner. He was hooded, of course. They all were. But there was something familiar about him. The one who had executed Tobias Price had had a beard, but this one had naught but a little stubble about the chin. He was sturdy and strong, and he held the axe comfortably, with confidence. The angle of his shoulders drew her eye. How she loved sturdy men. She admired the presence and power of a man who could steady a cart, lift something heavy, or duel with a blade. She had always been drawn to such men, though she had never indulged in the temptation to surround herself with them.

The headsman reminded her of someone. Yes, she knew it now. He reminded her of the kishion. The very thought of him sent shivers of fear down to the soles of her feet. When one murders for a living, it puts one beyond the sentimentalities of normal people. The kishion was not a man to be controlled, which terrified her.

The headsman was looking at her.

A growing realization filled her heart with dread. It
was
the kishion. He stood there, staring at her, holding the axe meaningfully, as if he meant to threaten
her
with it.
It will be your turn soon
, he seemed to whisper in the silence. Lady Deorwynn began to tremble.

“Are you cold, Mother?” Murer asked.

He had not visited her since the night he had infiltrated her bedchamber. Every time she thought back on it, she shuddered with dread. Despite her guards, despite her power, he had slipped into her private chambers as quiet as a shadow and delivered an ultimatum to her. Restore Maia to the king’s favor or else suffer the consequences. How could Lady Deorwynn do that when no one even knew where the girl was? She had her spies searching for Maia constantly. The ship had never returned from Dahomey, though the kishion had been with her and had vouchsafed that she had survived the cursed lands.

The father of the Price clan knelt in front of the block.

“This is a horrid practice,” Murer whispered. “I hate watching. Why do we have to watch?”

“To prove we are strong. To prove we are not cowards. Do not shame me, Murer.”

The eldest Price laid his head down. The stroke was swift and sure. There was an audible sigh from the crowd. With their father having set an example of courage, his sons could do no less. Each faced the block without shrinking. Lady Deorwynn had to credit them with that.

Chancellor Crabwell had a little speech prepared. As soon as he finished, it would be over. He stood from the podium where the nobles sat.

“Thus is the fate of traitors to the realm,” Crabwell said in a booming voice. “Let no man or woman defy the king’s will and live. Fix the heads to the tower spikes as a warning to others!”

Lady Deorwynn frowned. Why had he added the part about women? No woman had ever been executed for treason before, so what could Crabwell mean by saying that? She looked to her husband and saw him comforting Jayn Sexton, who seemed to be weeping quietly. His arm was around her shoulder! Lady Deorwynn clenched her fists in seething rage. The girl had not even been a lady-in-waiting for a year. If she were dismissed, it would send a signal to the other girls. Yet she had the irrational suspicion that if she did dismiss Jayn, her husband might countermand her. That would be intolerably humiliating.

“So much blood,” Murer whispered, staring at the scene with wide eyes and a haunted look. “So much.”

Ashy flakes of snow began to fall, startling Lady Deorwynn. The sky had been so clear moments before, but now it was gray and veiled. The snow came down in thick sheets, silent yet substantial—a benediction on the event.

“Can we go now?” Murer asked, and Lady Deorwynn turned without answering and approached her husband. He offered her his arm, having the courtesy to look a little guilty.