Once In a Blue Moon (55 page)

The Sombre Warrior locked the door, and put away his sword. He took off his mask and turned to face the mirror on his wall. And using certain prearranged magic words, he forced a contact between him and his distant master, William of Redhart. His reflection disappeared abruptly, replaced by the angry, cold-eyed visage of King William.

“You damned fool,” said the King. “You were told only to use this for real emergencies!”

“You don’t think this qualifies?” said the Sombre Warrior just as coldly. “Two separate attempts have been made on your daughter’s life! Three, if you include the attack on her carriage, on the way here. This was organised. You had to know about it. But you never told me anything!”

“Because I knew you’d react like this,” said the King. He sighed heavily. “They weren’t real threats; Catherine was never in any real danger. Not with all the extra magical protections I had placed on her before she left Redhart.”

“You planned this all in advance,” the Sombre Warrior said slowly. “This is all happening at your orders.”

“Of course,” said William. “The poison would just have made her sick, the knife would just have wounded her. We needed an excuse to break the Peace agreement. Who knew Prince Richard would be stupid enough to jump in front of an assassin’s knife? Still, it doesn’t matter. We have arranged for another attempt, through another agent. And then, whatever happens, we’ll have the pretext we need to bring Catherine home again. And sink the Peace agreement once and for all.”

“But . . . why?” said the Sombre Warrior. “Why break a Peace you worked so hard to bring about?”

“You are not cleared for matters of high policy,” the King said sternly. “All you need to know is that a King must do whatever is best to preserve his Kingdom.”

“I cannot allow the Princess to come to harm,” said the Sombre Warrior.

“Allow?” said the King. “
Allow?
You don’t get to have an opinion on this! You will do as you are told! Follow your orders, or I will reveal your true identity to everyone. And then . . . where could you go, where could you run? You have served too many masters, my Warrior, and no one loves a traitor. Stay where you are. Do not leave your room until this final attack on my daughter is over. And then there will be war.”

“You said I would be contacted by another of your agents, here in the Castle,” said the Sombre Warrior. “I haven’t heard anything, from anyone. I should have been consulted on this . . .”

“Don’t sulk, Warrior,” said the King. “It doesn’t become you. You never did have a head for politics. I’ve sent one of my hidden people to talk to you. Listen to him. Follow the orders he gives you. And never presume on your position again.”

His face disappeared from the mirror, and there was only the Sombre Warrior, staring at himself. He slowly replaced his porcelain mask, in anticipation of his visitor. He sat down on his only chair, suddenly tired. When did his life become so involved, so complicated? With so many conflicting responsibilities? He had thought that when he was back in the Forest Land, back home again . . . he might actually be able to put aside his mask. Give up being the Sombre Warrior and take up his old life again. Go looking for whatever remained of his family. But he couldn’t. He should have known he couldn’t even hope to do that, because he wasn’t that man anymore. That man died out on the border.

One thing he was sure of: the Princess Catherine needed him. Needed him to protect her, now more than ever. He didn’t trust King William’s magical protections. The Sombre Warrior had no respect for his masters, William or Peregrine. But he had always admired the Princess. For being free and proud and ready to defy anyone who thought they had authority over her. All the things . . . he had never been.

There was a knock at his door, and the Sombre Warrior made sure his mask was firmly strapped in place before he went to answer. And there, waiting patiently outside in the corridor, was a face the Sombre Warrior knew. The minstrel, Clarence.

“The King sent me,” Clarence said politely. “And I think we both know which King I mean. What was I supposed to . . . Oh yes.
Red meat is good meat
. Stupid phrase. Practically screams
I’m up to no good.
Invite me in, please. It wouldn’t be good for either of us if we were seen together. Questions would be asked.”

The Sombre Warrior stood back to allow Clarence to enter, and then shut and locked the door behind him. Clarence looked around the spartan room and turned up his nose.

“This is the best they could find for you? Hardly worthy of such a famous warrior.”

“You’re my contact?” said the Sombre Warrior. “But you’re Prince Richard’s closest friend!”

“He wants to be a hero,” said Clarence. “And what better way to become one than in the heat of battle? So many opportunities for the Prince to show his true worth . . . And I want a war, so there will be great deeds and marvellous battles for me to write songs about.”

“That’s it?” said the Sombre Warrior. “That’s all you want?”

“Well, the money does help,” Clarence admitted.

“Never trust a minstrel,” said the Sombre Warrior.

“There is to be one more attack on the Princess,” Clarence said briskly. “Very soon now. You are ordered, by King William himself, to do nothing. I have been told to assure you that the Princess will never be in any real danger. In fact, if she really has got all the protections in place that she’s supposed to have, no one short of the Demon Prince himself could get anywhere near her. We should all be so safe.

“There. That’s the message. Stay put till you hear the shouting, and then run to the Princess’ suite so you can be righteously angry in public and demand she return home immediately. What could be simpler?”

“What indeed?” said the Sombre Warrior.

Clarence waited patiently until he was sure the huge figure had nothing more to say. “Very well, then, I must be going. Unless . . . I don’t suppose you’d be prepared to sit down and talk with me about all the amazing exploits you’ve been involved in? I’m always looking for good new material for my songs. I could write something seriously thrilling about your . . . Ah. I see. Bad timing. Perhaps another . . .”

He bowed hastily, waited for the Sombre Warrior to unlock the door, and then left as quickly as dignity would allow. The door locked itself behind him. Clarence stood for a while in the corridor, recovering his composure, considering where his life had led him, against all his expectations.

“You should never have led me into the Darkwood, Richard,” he said quietly. “I could have forgiven you anything but that.”

•   •   •

P
rince Richard stood unhappily in Princess Catherine’s suite, looking around him and wondering what to do for the best. He’d escorted the Princess safely back to her quarters, along with a whole bunch of heavily armed guards, and then arranged for them to stand guard outside her door, and up and down the entire length of the corridor. He’d got Catherine seated in a comfortable chair, with a glass of brandy in her hand. She’d been fine all through the banquet, but as soon as it was over all the strength seemed to just run out of her and she started shaking. Delayed shock. Richard and Gertrude quickly bustled her away from the Great Hall before anyone else could notice, but Catherine hadn’t said a single word since. Richard tried again to persuade her to drink some of the brandy. It was excellent brandy, very good for shock. Or at the very least, it would take your mind off it.

He stood back to let Lady Gertrude fuss over the Princess, chatting comfortingly and making sure Catherine had everything she needed. Richard roamed around the huge suite, carefully checking everything in turn, looking for anything that didn’t belong, or even just seemed out of place. Making sure everything was as it should be. He finally came back to Catherine, to let her know everything was fine, and that she was as safe as safe could be. But Catherine didn’t seem to hear or see him.

She just sat there in her chair, staring straight ahead of her but clearly seeing nothing. Still holding the brandy glass in her hand but showing no interest in it, for all of Gertrude’s encouragement. Lady Gertrude kept shooting annoyed glances at Richard, indicating that in her opinion the best thing he could do was get out and leave Catherine to her, but Richard was damned if he was going anywhere while Catherine was in such a state. He was used to seeing her as strong and resilient, but three assassination attempts in under twenty-four hours had caught up with her. He crouched down before her, placing his face right in front of hers, and talked quietly and calmly to her, as reassuringly as he knew how. It took a while, but he persevered, and finally her eyes focused on him. She smiled slightly.

“You saved my life,” she said quietly. “I am grateful; really. It’s just . . . I’m having trouble coming to terms with the fact that my own people, in my own country, want me dead. Are ready to murder me, to bring about a war no sane person wants. And no, Richard, there’s nothing anyone can do for me right now. I need time on my own. To think. I’ll talk to you later.”

Richard smiled as encouragingly as he could, and stood up again. “All right. You know best what you need. Get some rest. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed. And drink your brandy. It’s good for shock.”

“I haven’t got shock,” said Catherine, with a hint of her old spirit.

Richard grinned. “You haven’t tried the brandy yet.”

Catherine tried another smile for him, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. Richard smiled at her, nodded to Gertrude, and left the suite. All the guards in front of the door, and up and down the corridor, immediately slammed to attention. Richard nodded absently to them, and then stared thoughtfully at the closed door to Catherine’s suite. He was still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that he had nearly died at the Tourney. He could still feel the knife slamming into his chest, all the way up to the hilt. He didn’t remember falling. Didn’t remember Catherine catching him and holding him in her arms as he bled out. He only sort of remembered Jack Forester bringing him back. He shuddered, suddenly. If Jack hadn’t been there . . .

He’d been stunned to discover afterward that Jack was family. That he had in fact been saved by the son of Rupert and Julia. Richard supposed it only made sense that the son of two such legends should be able to work miracles . . . He felt seriously tired, worn out, and much in need of a quiet lie-down for a while. He looked up sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps. And there, coming towards him, was his good friend Peter. None of the guards challenged him. They all knew Peter Foster. Some had served with him out on the border, in one campaign or another. Peter crashed to a halt before Richard and nodded sternly.

“Right,” he said. “I have been thinking.”

“And drinking, from the smell of it,” said Richard, amused. “Oh hell, I was supposed to join you in the beer tent, wasn’t I? Sorry. Been one hell of a day . . .”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Peter. “I have permanently appointed myself your personal bodyguard. I can’t believe Clarence and I weren’t around when you nearly got yourself killed. Not going to let that happen again. From now on, I go where you go. In fact, I go there ahead of you, so that if they want to get to you, they have to go through me first. And there’s not many can do that.”

“Right . . . ,” said Richard. “Where were you, exactly, when all the excitement was going on?”

“In the beer tent,” said Peter.

“Of course, yes,” said Richard. “Didn’t Clarence volunteer to be my bodyguard as well?”

“Lot of use he’d be,” said Peter. “I’m sure he would have volunteered, if he’d thought of it. But this was my idea. And be honest; what use would a minstrel be in the face of another assassin? What’s he going to do, sing something satirical at them and shame them out of it?”

“Clarence can use a sword when he has to,” Richard said steadily. “He did good work out on the border. Beside you and me.”

“We’ve all changed a lot since those days,” said Peter. “Anyway, last I heard, he was busy organising your stag do, for tonight.”

Richard grinned despite himself. “Of course he is. I hadn’t even thought about it. But he’ll have to cancel; I’m really not in the mood.”

“I told him that,” said Peter.

The door behind them swung open suddenly, and everyone present dropped their hand to their sword. But it was just Catherine, distracted by the sound of voices outside her door. Richard quickly assured her that all was well.

“Who’s this with you?” Catherine said suspiciously.

“An old friend of mine,” said Richard. “Peter Foster.”

“Friend and bodyguard,” said Peter.

“About time,” said Catherine. “Look after him, Peter. I’m not the only one in danger here.”

And then they all looked round again as heavy footsteps announced the arrival of the Sombre Warrior, along with the six guards he’d brought with him from Redhart. All the Castle guards watched carefully, hands at their sword hilts. They looked to Prince Richard for their cue and he shook his head slightly. The guards relaxed just a little. The Sombre Warrior crashed to a halt before Richard and Catherine, ignoring Peter, and bowed to them both. Peter stepped forward, deliberately putting himself between Richard and the Sombre Warrior.

“Easy, Peter,” Richard said quietly.

“Easy, hell,” said Peter. “What are you doing here, Warrior?”

“We are here to help guard the Princess,” said the Sombre Warrior. “We will be here, outside her door, until the wedding tomorrow. And then we will escort her to the ceremony, as her honour guard. I have received no orders on this. But I felt . . . this was something I had to do.”

“Of course,” said Richard diplomatically. “The Princess should have an honour guard.”

“Anyone would think you didn’t trust Castle security,” Peter said to the Sombre Warrior.

The Warrior gave all his attention to Richard. “No offence intended, your highness.”

“None taken,” said Richard. “But after what happened today . . . Given that the knife-thrower invoked the name of Redhart . . .”

“I chose all of my men personally,” the Sombre Warrior said steadily. “They have already saved her from an attack by brigands. I trust them all with my life, and that of the Princess.”