The Ciphers of Muirwood (7 page)

The question struck her in the pit of her stomach. She flushed with shame. “I do not know,” she answered truthfully. “I hate to cause you further pain, but you must understand . . . I do not know my father very well anymore.”

“I see,” he said, grinding his teeth. “Thank you for being truthful.” He sighed, apparently wrestling with himself.

“I hope he will not,” Maia continued earnestly, feeling a sharp pang for him. Celia continued to walk alongside them, listening, although she had been struck silent at the approach of the young man.

“I have been chafing here,” he said, staring off into the mist as they walked. “Not knowing is the hardest torture. If they were all to be killed, I would prefer to die with them. Part of me says I am a coward for staying here.”

“You are not a coward,” Maia insisted. “My
father
is the coward for not being brave enough to hear the truth spoken by a trusted ally. But then do not the Aldermastons teach us that men are slow to believe anything that will hurt their feelings?”

“Quite true,” Dodd said with an aggrieved chuckle. “To hear you say that about your own father is a balm to my wound. Thank you. I feel a little better.”

Maia gave him an awkward smile. “I was there, Dodd. When your father shamed the king publicly. He said nothing more than what everyone felt but was too cowardly to put it into words. Once something is said, it cannot be unsaid, unfortunately. Even if it is true.”

“How right you are again,” Dodd said with a small chuckle. “You are meek
and
wise, Lady Maia.”

“Please, call me Maia,” she said, smiling. “So you were stalking the mint flowers waiting for a chance to talk to me?”

“And summoning my courage,” he admitted. “I am grateful that I did. I would have carried the basket regardless. Is . . . Suzenne your companion? Have I heard that correctly?”

“She is.”

He frowned at that, his look brooding once more. Celia risked a look at him, but she said nothing.

“Why do you scowl?” Maia asked, trying to keep her voice light.

He looked at her with a certain solemnity. If she had not known he had passed the maston test early, she would have guessed he was a man grown already. “Because she abandons you each day,” he said with a reproving tone. “I had thought her better than that.”

“I gave her leave to see her friends,” Maia said, trying to defend her.

“One cannot give a person leave from doing his or her duty,” Dodd answered a bit sharply. “But then, perhaps I have my own reasons for judging her harshly. Thank you for speaking with me, Maia. I have wanted to approach you since you arrived, but felt it would be awkward for us both. I was wrong.”

It was as obvious as rain that he still harbored deep feelings for Suzenne. Maia could not help but lose respect for her for abandoning such a worthy man due to his ill fortune. She was a proud, pampered girl who had not faced many difficulties in her life. Maia had already noticed her strong tendency for perfection and propriety.

“Someone is coming,” Dodd said, slowing as they approached the manor house. Through the mist appeared a young lad, sprinting hard toward them. It was the Aldermaston’s page, a boy named Owen. He was a sturdy lad of about fourteen who looked as if he could have worked in the forge with the smiths.

“There,” he gasped, running up to them, panting. “Come with me, straightaway. Come quickly, ’fore you are seen! Celia, take the basket inside. I was sent to find you two,” he said, looking at Dodd and Maia. He glanced through the fog behind and around them. Celia looked worried and bit her lip, staring at the basket in Dodd’s arms.

“What is it, Owen?” Maia asked, her stomach twisting with concern.

“From Comoros,” he said, shaking his head. “Follow me, and I shall tell you all. Riders from the king. They just arrived, I tell you. The Aldermaston said they must leave their swords at the gate or they cannot enter.”

“Who, Owen?” Maia pressed. “Who did my father send?”

Owen’s eyes darted to Dodd’s stern face. “The new Earl of Forshee. With a retinue of thirty men
and
the sheriff of Mendenhall. The Aldermaston tol
d me to bring you to the tunnels so you both cannot be seen. Oh filth, there he is!”

The failure to master anger is the most common one among mastons. It is a wall that prevents the Medium from reaching us. For he that will be angry for anything will be angry for nothing.

—Richard Syon, Aldermaston of Muirwood Abbey

CHAPTER SEVEN

Forshee

M
aia recognized the badge on the soldier’s tunic—the swooping eagle of the Forshee earldom. The soldier approached them through the mist, followed by two others.

“I found him!” the soldier shouted. He had an unkempt beard and a scowling face. “Here is the lad, cavorting with wretcheds. Drop the basket, son. You are coming with us.”

Dodd’s face went taut with controlled anger. He swung the basket down and handed it to Celia.

“I obey the Aldermaston’s summons, not yours,” he answered evenly.

“You will
obey
the Earl of Forshee’s summons, lad, if you know what is best for you.”

“I have sanctuary on these grounds.”

The man snorted. “Not for long, cub. We are taking you
to
the Aldermaston.” He stepped closer, his face menacing. “Come freely if you will, or I am just as pleased to drag you. What shall it be?”

Maia’s anger kindled at the disrespect being shown to Dodd. Neither of the men saw past her wretched gown.

“I will come,” Dodd said.

“Wise choice. Best if we did not shame you in front of the girls. Begone!” he snapped at them. Celia flinched and darted away. Maia followed, her heart pounding fast with fury. By her side was Owen, who wrung his hands and muttered to himself.

“Not fast enough,” he said. “I ruined it.”

Maia put her hand on his shoulder. “It is not your fault. I am going to the tunnels. Tell the Aldermaston I will be waiting in the antechamber. Where is my grandmother?”

“She is already at the manor.”

Maia nodded, walking vigorously. Celia, who had started out ahead, was hard pressed to keep up. “Do you think there will be violence?” Celia asked worriedly.

“I would hope not. Violating an abbey’s peace risks summoning its defenses.”

“What do you think the soldier meant? He said Dodd would not have sanctuary for long.”

“I do not know,” Maia replied, her mind whirling with possibilities, none of them good. She parted company with Celia and steered toward the manor house in the fog. There were several other soldiers walking the grounds, but the wretched’s dress she wore ensured they also ignored her. As she neared the manor, she heard voices through the mist, but the words were garbled, and she could make no sense of them.

When she reached the manor, she quickly maneuvered through the underground passageway to the anteroom just off the Aldermaston’s personal chambers. As she carefully and quietly climbed the ladder up to the ground floor, she heard raised voices coming from his room. She pushed on the trapdoor cautiously, barely enough to budge it, but it suddenly swung open. Someone above her had pulled it. Her heart leaped with fear before she realized it was her grandmother waiting there, her finger on her mouth in a gesture for silence.

Maia climbed the final rungs, and they set the trapdoor down softly.

“I will not go with you,” Dodd’s voice declared angrily. “I have chosen refuge in Muirwood, and here will I stay.”

“Your decision is foolish,” returned another voice, a voice she recognized. The new Earl of Forshee was the one who had driven her out of her father’s palace. He was a towering, bearlike man, grizzled in age, and utterly ruthless—loyal only to her father. After seizing the earldom, he had immediately begun to purge all of his predecessors’ supporters. She had heard him occasionally referenced as the king’s hammer.

“How long have we known each other, Richard Syon?” the earl asked. “Since we were lads?” His voice dripped with malice.

The Aldermaston’s reply was devoid of emotion. “We have known each other for the better part of forty years, Kord. We passed the maston test at the same abbey.”

“You always wanted to be an Aldermaston,” sneered the earl. “You could have been a lord of the realm. A privy councilor. Instead you chose this swampy land and its sulfurous bogs.”

There was silence. “I did not choose it, Kord,” the Aldermaston said simply. “I answered a call to serve. The court suits your personality better than it ever would mine.”

“Ah, Richard. Always so sanctimonious. What a coward you are. But then you have always been short and fat. I suppose a soldier’s life would never have suited you.”

“Probably not,” the Aldermaston replied humbly.

“Well, hopefully the life of a wayfarer does. I come bearing news from the king.”

“Thank you. I see you brought the sheriff of Mendenhall with you. Greetings, Rupert.”

“Hello, Aldermaston,” came the reply, in a voice devoid of any emotion.

“Will you begin an inquest into Queen Catrin’s death?” the Aldermaston asked.

“That is treasonous language,” Forshee said with a growl of anger. “The queen, Lady Deorwynn, is in excellent health and awaits the birth of her baby. There was no queen here at Muirwood.”

“The ruling from the High Seer was quite clear. The king’s marriage to Lady Deorwynn is unlawful.”

Maia looked at her grandmother, whose eyes had narrowed as she listened to the argument in the other room. The Aldermaston’s voice was perfectly calm and controlled when he spoke next. “Regardless of your politics, it is my feeling that Queen Catrin was murdered. An inquest should be started to determine the facts of the case.”

“Whoever murdered the old waif did the king a service,” Forshee
replied dispassionately. “Are you suggesting the king ordered it?”

Maia’s blood raged in her veins and she stiffened. Sensing her discomfort, Sabine put a hand on her arm.

“I did not suggest who the killer might have been or what could have motivated them to act,” the Aldermaston said. “My only suggestion was to start an inquest. I assumed that was why you had brought the sheriff.”

“You assumed incorrectly, Richard. I tell you, the king and his queen
rejoiced
when your letter arrived. I believe he called for a special dance to mark the occasion. Now that she is dead, there can be no more objections to Lady Deorwynn’s queenship and the legitimacy of her heirs. Let me speak plainly, man. I am here on a charge from the king. He commands that the construction of Muirwood commence immediately. I have learned from the dear sheriff, who has discreetly observed the work being done, that the structure is practically finished already. The king and queen intend to celebrate Whitsunday at Muirwood—the most ancient abbey of any realm—and you are to prepare for their arrival a fortnight prior to the celebration. The entire king’s court will descend on the abbey,
and a tournament will be held. At that occasion, Richard, you will be removed from your office and a
new
Aldermaston will rule.”

A stunned silence descended after that statement. Maia saw Sabine flinch, her eyes widening with concern. “He cannot do that,” she whispered faintly.

“Speechless. At last!” Forshee sneered. “You will prepare your servants for the arrival of their new master. The king has already made his choice. Aldermaston Kranmir from Augustin. He is, as you know, Lady Deorwynn’s uncle. The Crown will be seizing all abbey lands, all wealth appertaining, and revoking the rights of sanctuary. So you see, my young boy, your residence will shortly be moved to Pent Tower, where you will join your lord father and your brothers. And if you do not swear your loyalty to the Act of Submission, you will be executed as a traitor to the realm.” This last ended as a growl. “The sheriff of Mendenhall will be staying here until Whitsunday to oversee the final construction of the abbey and to ensure a
smooth transition
to the new Aldermaston. It will be an impressive ceremony, I assure you. The king’s lawyers are writing the procedure as we speak. The king will be the one to invest the Aldermaston with the stole of office.”

There was another period of silence. “That sounds very interesting,” the Aldermaston said. “I wonder what the High Seer will do when she learns of it?”

“The king does not care a shriveled fig what she thinks,” Forshee snarled. “He will not allow Pry-Ree to countermand his authority. Our kingdoms have been at peace for many centuries now. If she interferes, you can expect it to awaken the ancient enmity between our kingdoms. I would relish that. Do tell her, Richard. I know you will.”

“Thank you for your visit, my lord earl of Forshee. And welcome to Muirwood, Sheriff. It seems we will be seeing more of you. I shall have guest quarters arranged for you on the grounds, if that would be to your liking, or do you plan to stay at one of the marvelous inns in the village?”

“I will be staying on the grounds the entire time,” said the sheriff flatly.

“Very well. You are most welcome. Is that all, my lord earl?”

Forshee’s voice was low and cruel. “Does nothing provoke you, Richard?”

“Will that be all?” the Aldermaston repeated gently.

Forshee muttered under his breath. “Well, lad, enjoy your misty months at Muirwood. My next errand from the king will not be to your liking. I am summoned to Pent Tower to give your father one last chance to sign the Act of Submission. The headsman is sharpening his axe every day, but I may be inclined to recommend he keep it dull for this one. Good day.”

When the guests had departed, the Aldermaston gathered his counselors together in his private chambers. They were the same people as before, except Dodd was included instead of Suzenne. He paced nervously as the others took seats around the table, and Maia felt rage in her heart for the injustice being shown to him. She had finally found a place of sanctuary, and her father and Lady Deorwynn were already undermining it.

Jon Tayt’s eyes burned with suppressed anger as the news was quickly shared. “I was sorely tempted to loosen one of the shoes of the earl’s stallion before he left. Or slit part of the saddle strap. And that was before I knew any of this.”

“There is no need for that,” Sabine said, her brow furrowed. She sighed. “I am grateful the Medium led me to Muirwood before he arrived. There are only a few months until Whitsunday, and the king has left his spy in our midst.”

“I will ride out tonight,” Dodd said angrily, still pacing. “While that . . . abominable man is riding for Comoros, I can rally my father’s retainers and all those loyal to my Family and summon an army—”

“That is exactly what he is trying to goad you into doing,” Sabine said cautiously, shaking her head. “His measured intent was to provoke us into rash action. You can be certain the grounds will be watched. If you were to leave this circle of safety, you would be captured.”

He wheeled on her. “How can I sit here and do
nothing
?”

She looked at him with compassion. “Do you trust the Medium?”

His lips quivered with pent-up emotion. “Of course I trust it.”

“Do you?” she asked in an even softer voice. “Is that the feeling that compels you to ride north? Or are you listening to your rage?”

His jaw clenched in anguish. “How can I not feel anger, High Seer? He threatens my Family. The king would murder my father for speaking the truth. Is that just?”

Sabine shook her head. “No, it is not just. But we cannot see the end of all things. Only the Medium can. We learn the Medium’s will when our hearts are calm, our thoughts untroubled. You must not allow your emotions to rule you, Dodd. Then you will know the Medium’s will for you. All of us will die eventually. We must not be afraid to
live
.”

She turned her attention to the Aldermaston. “The Medium compels me to leave. It has been weighing on me since I arrived.” She reached over and gripped Maia’s hand. “As much as I desire to remain here and help tutor my granddaughter for the maston test, I must depart. Aldermaston, the exterior works of the abbey are done. I will need a dozen of the workers to come with me on the
Holk
with spades and shovels.”

“Where?” Maia asked in concern.

Sabine shook her head. “I cannot tell you. But I feel its urgency. I must leave you.”

Maia felt her heart constrict with pain, but she understood that the news the Earl of Forshee brought had irrevocably changed the situation. Her father had cast out the Dochte Mandar, and now he was putting himself above the order of the mastons. He was becoming like the kings of old who had persecuted and hunted the mastons. Her stomach filled with dread, remembering what had happened to that king, and fervently hoped the Medium would not compel her to do battle with her father. Violence always spawned more violence.