Two Heirs (The Marmoros Trilogy Book 1) (31 page)

“Excellent. Thank you, my lady. Now Bern, I want two of your archers to accompany Feynor’s assault group up the rope. Just a precaution in case you are surprised by a patrol on the wall. I would prefer to get through the whole of tomorrow without killing any of Lord Maxten’s guardsmen but if it can’t be done….. The rest of the men will be in the van with Ash and yourself.

“I believe they will open the gate to admit the coach but not the honour guard. In which case I will demand an equivalent honour guard from Lord Maxten’s men to escort us to the palace. Once we are out-of-sight with the escort, that will be Feynor’s signal to attack the gate. As soon as you see the gate opening for a second time and the honour guard getting involved, then start the wagons moving and rush the rest of the men up to the gate.”

“And what if they do let the honour guard in?”

“Then get moving straight away because they will have made the biggest tactical error of their lives. With both Jorgen and Feynor there, we will have enough men to keep the gate open until you arrive.”

“What will you do if they don’t even allow the coach in?” Bardsley enquired.

“Then I shall stress the great personal friendship between Lord Jeren’s father and Duke Theron of Keldis and the outrage that the Duke will feel if Lord Brantyen’s widow and son are not permitted to visit the Duke and inform him personally of the death of his best friend.”

“Um, I wasn’t aware that my father had ever met Duke Theron,” Jeren said hesitantly.

“Yes well they don’t know that. Outraged and insulted, I would think the Duke would be under the circumstances. And he would undoubtedly want to know the person who was responsible for such an insult.”

There were general smiles and even a few chuckles from the councillors at that.

“Lord Held,” Falaise said. “A few days ago I said that I thought you were a good man. I have changed my mind. I now think that you are a very bad man… but in a good way.”

***

Kemon led the way quietly towards the city walls at a point where they were not overlooked by any of the towers. They had dismounted a hundred paces further back and left the horses in the care of a young scout to return to the column. They moved cautiously because all of the trees within bowshot of the walls, had been felled at some point in the past to provide a clear field of fire. However, there was still a lot of undergrowth covering the ground and there were a few stifled curses as shins were barked against the hidden tree stumps.

They reached the base of the walls and turned towards the river. When it came into view, Kemon signalled them to stop and pointed out the two towers. The one on their side of the river was totally dark but there was a faint glow coming from the one on the far side.

“Good. No night vision,” Kemon mouthed silently.

Lem, the swordsman that Feynor had assigned them, uncoiled the rope from round his shoulders and tied one end to a stout bush. Then they all stripped down, shivering slightly in the chill air, placed their clothes inside the waterproof backpacks that Marta had provided and secured their weapons to the outside. Lem passed the end of the rope through the straps of all three backpacks and carefully lowered himself into the water. He pushed out from the bank and the current took him swiftly through the opening under the walls.

After what seemed like an age but was probably only a couple of minutes, there was a tug on the rope and Kemon released the backpacks to be hauled through.

“You go next,” he whispered to Foxley. “Hold onto the rope all the way through and Lem will help you out at the far side.”

When the next tug came on the rope, he untied the end from the bush and allowed himself to float down in the current as Lem pulled the rope in. On the inside of the walls, they found themselves directly outside the open entrance to the tower. Fortunately there were no signs of life from this tower and no sounds of alarm from the one on the other bank. Still Kemon led them swiftly away from the walls until they found a narrow alley where they could dress themselves again.

“Right, now stay close to me and stay close to the walls,” Kemon ordered.
“There are patrols on the streets but only irregularly. However, we’re going to have to risk the main streets because we don’t have time to go dancing around all the back alleys. So keep your eyes and your ears open.”

The wealthy district of Highport was the land in between the two bridges, where the High Warden’s palace and administrative offices were located. All of the wealthier merchants had a house there even if they had a second property down nearer the wharves and warehouses. The house belonging to Master Benson was one of the larger mansions just across the bridge over the Staden and Kemon was confidently leading the way when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and peered cautiously round the next corner.

What he saw was a small square bordering the river on one side with the bridge in the right hand corner. The second side of the square opened onto the wharves and the other two sides were lined with small shops. The noise that Kemon had heard came from the river side of the square where the public stocks were situated and where the current occupant of the stocks was engaged in a lively conversation with the night patrol.

Apparently the unfortunate occupant of the stocks was well known to the guardsmen and much light-hearted banter drifted across the square with no sign of the patrol moving on. Indeed flasks and food were appearing and being shared round amongst everybody, including the man in the stocks.

“We cannot reach the bridge with that patrol there,” Kemon reported back in a whisper. “And
there’s no other way of getting across the river. We need a diversion.”

“What do you suggest?” Foxley asked.

“I think a small fire would be appropriate. It would not only drag the patrol away but it will bring the entire population out onto the streets. It’s the single scariest thing in a wooden city like this. In all the confusion, we can move through the crowds without attracting attention. You two wait here. Don’t move unless the patrol starts heading directly for you. Then choose an alleyway to hide in and I’ll come and find you.”

With that he was gone. Foxley and Lem took it in turns to peer round the corner but the conversation on the far side of the square was just as lively as ever and showed no sign of ending. The wait seemed interminable and they were beginning to think that something had gone wrong when a shout of “Fire! Fire!” went up from about three streets away. The guardsmen spun round startled, trying to identify where the sound had come from. “Fire! Fire!” the shout came again from a street on the warehouse side of the square and in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Kemon’s.

With that the patrol sprang into action. The sergeant despatched one of the guardsmen back across the bridge in the direction of the palace and the rest headed across the square at a fast trot in the direction of the shout. As they watched them disappear around the far corner of the square, Kemon suddenly reappeared at their side.

“Wait a few more minutes,” he said. “Then it should get busy.”

Windows were starting to open and tousled heads appeared with shouted enquiries.

“I think there’s a fire in Bakers Row,” Kemon shouted in reply to one query. Then the tocsin sounded from the palace and people began to pour onto the street; some still in their nightclothes, others hastily pulling on shirts and trousers.

“Right, come on now,” Kemon said. “Keep to the side of the square because we’re going against the flow. If we get separated, go across the bridge and take the first street on the right.”

They had to wait at the bridge while the off-duty guardsmen came hurrying across pulling the fire cart behind them, buckets rattling as the cart bounced across the bridge. Then they ran across themselves and turned down the street where Master Benson lived. Kemon hammered on the door and was answered almost immediately by one of the servants.

“We need to see your master,” Kemon said. “And right now.”

“Why? What is it?” came a voice from behind the servant. “Is it one of my warehouses?”

“No, no, Master Benson. There’s no danger to your property. A small fire in Bakers Row is all. Should be easily containable. One of the apprentices must have been a bit careless.”

“I know you,” Benson said. “You were here yesterday, on business from Lady Brantyen.”

“I think you know me also,” Foxley said pushing his way in.

“Foxley, by all that’s wonderful. What are you doing here? How did you get through the gates?”

“That’s a long story, old friend. And one that might be best told in private. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Come in, come in. You’re sure the fire is in Bakers Row?”

“Oh absolutely,” Kemon replied with a straight face. “And very small.”

Nevertheless, Benson despatched a servant to keep an eye on the progress of the fire and others to fetch refreshments as he led the way into his study.

“So tell me your news. Why are you here? Although I think I may be able to guess that.”

“We need your help, old friend. The Lyenar people need your help.”

“I don’t think I can help you, my friend. You, or your people, seem to have upset Duke Henry in a very major way. That snivelling wretch Maxten is absolutely pissing himself in case the Duke turns up here in person. There’s no way he’s going to open the gates for you and there’s nothing I can do to persuade him otherwise.”

“Even if my people are massacred outside your gates. Men, women and children.”

“Oh come now. I don’t think even Duke Henry would go that far.”

“It’s not Duke Henry who’s calling the shots on this. It’s his new chancellor. I don’t know his name.”

“Alcanzar. Never met him myself. Why is he pursuing you?”

“He thinks we’ve got some sort of special boy travelling with us. We haven’t of course; it’s absolute nonsense. But he sent troops to round up all the boys in our village and take them for… ‘testing’ he called it. We managed to get the boys back but the Duke lost a few troops in the process. So we decided to get out of Paelis and now he’s sending more troops to punish us. If he catches us on his territory, it will be a massacre. We need to get through your city and into Keldis.”

“I see. But I still don’t think I can help you. Maxten will never open those gates.”

“We weren’t actually proposing to ask him,” Kemon said.

“Oh! My information is that you left the city this afternoon. You never did tell me exactly how you got back into the city tonight.”

“You don’t want to know. And if you don’t know, you can’t be forced to tell. You can deny all involvement.”

“No, no, no. This is impossible. I can’t help you. There’s nothing I can do for you. You have to leave.”

“Benson, you owe me,” Foxley stated firmly. “And I’m calling in the favour. We don’t need much. You need have no direct involvement in this.”

Benson thought for a minute. “What is it you need?”

It was Kemon who answered. “You have a warehouse down by the city walls. We need the keys to the warehouse and we need you to keep your servants out of there until midday tomorrow.”

“Absolutely impossible. It can’t be done. You ask too much.”

“Do I have to remind you exactly how much you owe me, old friend?” Foxley paused for a moment. “And I may be able to throw a sweetener into the pot for you.”

“What sort of sweetener?”

“An exclusive trade contract.”

“Go on.”

“With your information network, you must have heard by now where we are heading.”

“I’ve heard some wild rumours about you going to retake Marmoros. Throw out the warlord and retake the city.”

“They are not wild rumours, old friend. That is precisely what we are going to do.”

“You’ll be slaughtered. You might as well die outside the walls here.”

“You haven’t met our new prince. Be at the palace tomorrow and you will. He’s quite something. And we have an army at our command. Make no mistake about it, old friend, we are going to retake Marmoros. And when we do, we will have to re-establish our old trading networks. That is what I am offering you. Exclusivity on the trading route between Highport and Marmoros.”

“You really believe you can do this?”

“I do. We all do. We have a visionary leader and we have an army. We can and we will retake Marmoros.”

“I think I would like to meet this prince of yours.”

“Then be at the palace tomorrow. He is coming to pay a state visit to the High Warden along with his lady mother, the Queen Regent. But before that, we still need your help, old friend.”

“The lady Falaise. I should like to meet her again as well. But if you’re caught in the warehouse, I shall deny all knowledge of how you got there.”

“Absolutely.”

“I shall send a servant with you to unlock the warehouse and bring the keys back. The
warehouse must have been left unlocked all night. I will probably have to have a servant flogged for that… if you’re caught.”

“We will try to spare your servant the pain. And thank you old friend. We will meet again.”

***

Feynor signalled a halt and dropped into a crouch as the larger of the two moons sailed out from behind a cloud. It did not provide much illumination but he was taking no chances. The smaller and brighter of the moons had already set and there were enough clouds in the sky to pretty much guarantee that this moon would be covered again in a few minutes.

As with Kemon’s group earlier, they had dismounted before they reached the edge of the trees and left their horses to be taken back to the column. They heard the sound of the tocsin as they waited at the edge of the trees and Feynor worried that Kemon and the others had been detected. But then he spotted a faint cherry red glow from behind the city walls and, in one of the short moonlit spells, a plume of black smoke could clearly be seen.

They had waited a while longer until the glow and the smoke began to diminish and Feynor decided that, whatever was going on inside the city, the only thing they could do was press on and trust that Kemon would be up there on the walls at the appointed time. So now they crouched down amongst the undergrowth about half way across the cleared space to the city wall, waiting for the comforting shadow of the clouds to resume.