The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) (6 page)

She continued in a shaky voice, “
It has come to my attention by way of
Brother Andrew that there are wicked men in Toledo and
Barcelona who are known to take books by force from
priests and merchants. I wish to warn you to beware
of Massey and his men, now sailing under Captain Snead
on the Silvia. He will be in the southern waters
all winter and is likely to be visiting the very
houses on which you plan to call.”
She took a breath, “
I remind you with love, that you are my
own, my son, my beloved. Kemberley awaits your
glorious return. It is with great pleasure that I tell you the
Bishop came by this past week, bringing me news of
your triumph in Wittenberg. He tells me you impressed the
doctors there with your scholarship, your wit, and your gracious
manners. You have been extended invitations to all the fine
houses in Prague, Berlin, Flanders, Paris, and dare I say, Rome. Even now letters arrive nearly every week requesting your
presence at universities all over the continent
.

“My darling
son, with such accolades and invitations, I find it difficult
to understand why you prefer to roam the south countries
where the law is weak and brigands abound.”
Nadira paused, unable to catch her breath. Garreth passed the mead to her. She drank, easing the constriction that closed her throat. She did not want to read the words that followed.

When she hesitated too long, Alisdair thumped the vellum with a thick finger, urging her to continue. Tentatively, her voice weak, she almost whispered the last sentence.
“As you
well know, I do not share your faith in your
brother’s ability to protect you. I urge you to
return home to England at once, come by ship from
Venice, not Barcelona. Stay away from the docks there. I
have arranged for monies for you with our friends Benite
and Bernoulli. God speed. Your loving father, Richard, Baron Kemberley
.”

After the sound of his name died on her lips, there was an eerie silence.

Alisdair stiffened behind her. He gathered the documents from her lap and stuffed them roughly back into the leather bag. “What now, then, Rob,” Alisdair snarled into the darkness as he snapped the laces of the bag with a jerk.

A tongue of firelight reached past Nadira, reflecting off a leather boot as Montrose moved behind her. She could not help but turn her head to hear his answer; the words were so faint.

“I’ll take first watch.”

Though barely audible, this statement was immediately followed by the thump of baggage hitting the ground beyond the fire as the men obediently rolled themselves in their blankets.

Nadira made no move to lie by the fire. Instead she sat in place wrapped in her blanket until the men had settled themselves and the rumble of snores drifted across the fire pit. When peace had settled over the sleeping men she unfolded her legs and crept to Montrose’s side where he sat on a little rise above the camp. He tilted his head to acknowledge her presence, but did not greet her.

Nadira wanted to tell him how brave his brother had been. She wanted to make him see that moment when Massey had made his final malicious demand, that moment when the blue-eyed stranger had called upon his last vestige of strength and defied his torturer. She could not imagine herself suffering so. She would have broken long before; she would have told Massey everything, begged for her life.

She wanted to tell Montrose how his brother had endured monstrous cruelty yet still had the heart to smile at her as she bathed his battered face. She had come to Montrose to comfort him with words of courage. Instead, as she opened her mouth to speak she tasted the salt of her tears. The memory of Richard’s eyes, filled with peace as the life left them, robbed her of her ability to speak. Her hands felt the memory of his cold fingers pressing hers briefly as he slowly died. She was sobbing. She clutched at her face, ashamed to be laid so bare before Montrose, mortified that having come to him she now appeared weak and foolish.

With effort she stilled her shaking, gulping deep breaths of the smoky air, wiping her eyes and nose with the hem of her chemise. When she could see again, she braved a glance up at the man beside her. He looked down at her in the starlight. She saw Richard’s eyes, alive again in his. When he spoke his voice was soft.

“All who knew him, loved him,” he whispered with a sad smile.

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HEY
were packed and on the trail soon after sunrise the next morning. The road narrowed as they climbed in altitude and became not much more than a path. The men often dismounted to guide the animals around treacherous curves. The sun seemed to jump in all directions, first rising in the east, and then seeming to appear in the south, then the north. The switchbacks confused Nadira so badly she stopped trying to keep track of their progress.

By late afternoon Montrose had them camp beside a tiny mountain stream. They were sheltered from the path by an old tree on its stony bank. They did not build a fire, nor did they waste any time talking. Instead, while the sun remained above the horizon they took out their swords, knives, and daggers and sharpened them with whetstones pulled from the baggage. Nadira cut the bread and cheese and passed the food around. She filled the water skins from the stream and helped move the horses to better forage that grew between the sharp rocks. She was watched silently as the
zing zing zing
of the whetstones rung against the steel.

The moon shone bright enough to see clearly the road in front and behind them, but Nadira could not relax this night. She turned over and wiggled in the thin grass, hoping to find a comfortable position on the hard ground. No matter how she lay, a stone gouged her flesh. A few paces in front of her Montrose sat quietly facing the road in the direction they had come. She knew his ears were doing most of the work, even with the bright moon to aid his eyes. Every time she curled one way or the other, his head cocked in her direction. Alisdair could not sleep either. After some time tossing about and grunting, he gave up trying and joined Montrose on watch. Nadira lay still, listening.

“What are you thinkin’, Rob?”

Montrose turned his body to include Alisdair in his field of vision. “I’m thinking about Richard,” he said shortly.

“Aye.” There was a lengthy silence before Nadira heard Alisdair ask, “Are you going to send word to the laird about it?”

“No.”

“Rob, you know…” Alisdair was shaking his head.

“No. Let him think we are both dead.” Nadira saw Montrose relax. He rolled from his sitting position to lie back on the grass – arms behind his head, looking at the moon. Alisdair took up the sentry position, resting his scabbard across his knees.

“Rob…”

“No.”

“Yer a fool, man. The Kemberly estate will be yours when the laird’s dead. You have Montrose now, from the duke for saving his life. You could go home. Leave off this foolish mission. Richard is dead,” he crossed himself, “his quest dies with him. You know it. If the laird thinks you’re dead too, then the rents will stop coming. We’ll starve.”

“If you want to go home, then go. I will not force you.”

“I’ll not leave you, Rob, and nor will the others. But, I want to be sure we all know what we’re doin’ here.

“Richard wanted that book. I’m going to get it. That’s what we’re doing here.”

Nadira heard Montrose shift his position again.

“Have you learned anything more from the lass?”

“She’s told me what she knows.”

“Talking to you is like pullin’ teeth, Rob, damn it. Tell me what you plan to do now!”

Lord Montrose answered his friend softly, his voice a murmur, but still it carried clearly to Nadira, holding her breath behind him.

“I will finish my task. I will do Richard’s bidding, but I will burn the cursed book when I get my hands on it.”

“And when you’ve destroyed it?” Alisdair’s voice was lower now, too.

“There’s Massey to deal with.”

“Aye, and then?”

“What think you of…Istanbul?”

Alisdair coughed. “I remember the verra fine whores.”

Montrose laughed, but it was a sad sound.

Nadira awoke long before dawn when she felt Marcus roll onto her, his elbow digging into her ribs. He apologized before he got up from his bedding, pulling her to her feet with a strong arm. He passed his hands chastely up and down the sides of her body from her shoulders to her hips.

“Did I crush anything?” His voice was soft and low, a hint of a smile beneath the black beard.

Nadira shook her head, pulling bits of dry grass from her dark braid.

He bent double, rolled his bedding with hers. “I spend days keeping you from harm only to squash you myself,” he joked, his blue eyes twinkling.

The others were moving about as well, gathering the horses and loading them with bedding and tools. The two boys worked the pack animals while Garreth, already mounted, rode alone up the trail in front of them. Nadira waited until Marcus was ready with his horse, but instead of hauling her up beside him as he had always done before, he led her to one of the packhorses. The pack was smaller than usual and placed in such a way as to leave room for her on the animal’s back.

“You’ll ride the dapple today.” He said shortly as he handed her up and took the animal’s lead. His eyes no longer twinkled at her.

“He has no bridle,” Nadira answered, worried. She fingered the rough mane.

“I’ll lead him through the pass,” Marcus indicated the road ahead with a long arm. “If there is trouble, jump down and hide. Brigands want the animals and supplies first. We will find you again soon enough,” he said.

Nadira noticed he was wearing his heavy helm with the nose plate instead of his lighter one. A knot tightened in her middle as she wound the dapple’s mane into a noose around her hand.
First?

“Do you expect trouble?” she asked in a small voice.

“Every time,” he answered.

Marcus took the halter rope and led her to his own charger. The horses lined up single file, making the ascent with Marcus last, leading her horse. She kept looking behind her as the trail twisted and turned on itself. She wondered if brigands attacked from the rear. Would they have placed her in that much danger if that were so?

The poor footing slowed the horses; their hooves slid on the smooth rock where there was no soil. She gripped the bit of mane in her hands tightly. Ahead she could see the men craning their necks as they came over the top of the rise. Montrose raised an arm and they all stopped. The men rose in their stirrups and she felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

A cry startled all the horses. Nadira clung tightly with arms and legs as her animal shied away from a dozen dark forms emerging from behind boulders and trees. She knew the brigands must be men, but the figures coming toward them appeared more like beasts. Animal skins covered their shoulders and heads. Naked arms brandished small axes and large clubs. Some of them had swords.

She quickly counted fifteen attackers before Marcus’s broad back blocked her sight. He reined his mount to cover her but didn’t take his eyes off the wild men. He wrenched her down from the dapple with one heave of his arm, his charger backing against the pull on the bit. Nadira clutched his arm until her feet contacted the ground, and she felt him push her away toward the side of the trail. She fled toward a gully carved by rainwater and snowmelt. The cleft was not deep enough to conceal her body, but when crouched behind a low outcropping of stone she could remain hidden from the path. She peered around the rock when she heard the first clash of steel. Axes went up, swords slashed down.

Nadira wanted to close her eyes, but could not. The sound of impact echoed off the stones around her. She watched, frozen, as five hairy men separated from the others to pursue the fleeing animals. They spread out trying to surround the packhorses and impede their flight to the tree line. In the other direction she saw the boys Evan and Hagen disappear into the woods.

The men in the road were standing and falling, leaping and staggering, always accompanied by the ring of metal. She could not watch the conflict and remain hidden at the same time; so she pressed herself smaller between two outcroppings of rock, ducking as one of the brigands turned toward her hiding place. It was colder in the shade where the sun had not touched the ground. Nadira welcomed the shadow. She crouched, arms around her knees behind the biggest boulder. She could stay here, unseen.
Please let this be a safe place
.

A scream jolted that hope out of her mind. She debated whether peeking was more dangerous than not knowing what was happening. Raising herself to the top of the stone, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, she lifted herself just enough to lean to the side and see the edge of the trail. The fighting mass of men crowded closer to her rocks. A head lay severed some distance away. She ducked down quickly.
Too close. They are too close.
She felt sick.