The Kings of Clonmel

Chapter 38

The crowd continued to yell its approval and Tennyson stepped closer to Halt. As he did so, Horace went to move to the side of the counterfeit King, with Sean half a second behind him. But Halt, unperturbed, held up a hand to stop them.

`Something on your mind, priest?' he asked.

For a moment, a frown touched Tennyson's face. There was something vaguely familiar about the King, he thought. But he couldn't place it. He discarded the momentary distraction and his cold anger returned.

`We had an agreement, Ferris,' he said in a low tone.

Halt raised an eyebrow. 'Ferris?' he said. 'Is that the way you address a king? I think you mean "your majesty".'

`You won't be King when I'm finished with you. People do not break agreements with me. I'll destroy your Sunrise Warrior and then I'll have you dragged from the throne, screaming like a frightened girl.'

Tennyson was confused and furious. All his intelligence, gathered by spies in the months preceding his march on Dun Kilty, had led him to expect a vacillating, uncertain, weak character. This hard-eyed King came as a surprise; he faced Tennyson's threats with no sign of fear or weakness.

`Brave talk, Tennyson, especially from a man who will be doing none of the fighting. And, I assume, none of the dragging. Now let me tell you something: scum like you don't make agreements with kings. You do their bidding. And you don't make threats to them, either. I'll ruin your plan and I'll destroy your filthy cult as well. And then I'll take a horsewhip to your fat, quivering hide and driveyou out of this country. And unlike you, my friend, I will do it personally!'

In the past two years, since he had begun his campaign to destabilise the island of Hibernia, nobody had dared to threaten Tennyson. Nobody had spoken to him with such an air of confident contempt. Now, looking into those dark eyes before him, he felt a slight tremor of fear. He saw no sign of doubt there. No sign that this was a man who could be cowed. Rather, he saw a promise that the King would carry out the threat he had just made. In a flickering moment of uncertainty, Tennyson wondered if he might not be wiser to withdraw from Clonmel and settle for his position of dominance in the other five kingdoms. But he sensed that the man before him wouldn't be content with that. They were both committed now and the situation would be resolved in trial by combat. He looked at his two massively built retainers, then at the muscular young warrior standing a pace behind the King. Surely no man could stand against both Killeen and Gerard, he thought.

But the young man looked supremely unworried by the prospect.

Horace, meeting Tennyson's eyes, smiled at him. Tennyson was struck by a feeling that he had seen him before as well. But at their previous encounter, he had paid little attention to Horace, who had been dusty, travel stained and roughly dressed as a hired guard. Now, resplendent in chain mail and the surcoat of the Sunrise Warrior, he was an entirely different character.

`The combat will take place in three days' time,' Halt announced, speaking so that the entire assembly could hear him. He had no need to ask Horace if that timing suited him. Horace was always ready, he knew.

Tennyson tore his glance away from Horace and regarded Halt once more.

`Agreed,' he said.

The crowd broke out in cheers once more. A public trial by combat would mean a holiday – with the added attraction of the opportunity to see at least one man killed.

Halt glanced at Sean, who gestured to the escort to form around him. Then they marched off the platform and, shoving through the cheering, jostling crowd, they headed up the hill back to the castle. As they made their way, they became aware of a chant spreading through the town.

`Hail Ferris! Long live the King! Hail Ferris! Long live the King!'

Horace grinned sidelong at Sean.

`So that's the way to win the crowd's loyalty. Throw them a few violent deaths.'

`At least,' Sean replied, 'there's no way Ferris can go back on it now. The mob would tear him to pieces if he did.'

They made their way back to the castle and into the throne room. As their escort took up positions outside the throne room, Sean ordered one of them to fetch hot water, soap and towels. Then he followed Halt and Horace into the large inner room.

Halt crossed quickly to the small robing annexe. Gesturing for Sean and Horace to remain outside, he pulled the heavy curtain aside and entered. As he did, he could hear faint, muffled thuds coming from the large wardrobe where Ferris was concealed. Opening the door, he dragged his bound and gagged brother out of the wardrobe by his collar, leaving him sprawled on the floor. Ferris, red faced and with eyes bulging, was trying to shout abuse at his brother. But the gag was a good one and the only sound was a series of muffled, unintelligible grunts. Halt, who had worn the saxe knife under his brocade cloak, produced the heavy, gleaming blade now and held it before Ferris's nose.

`Two choices, brother. I either cut your gag and ropes, or I cut your throat. You choose.'

Ferris's grunting became more impassioned than before and he strained against the restraints fastening his hands and feet. He stopped abruptly as Halt moved the blade closer to his face.

`That's better,' Halt told him. 'Now just keep it quiet or you're a dead man. Understand?'

Eyes wide with fright, Ferris nodded frantically.

`You're learning,' Halt told him. 'Now I'm going to cut you free. And you will keep quiet. If you even begin to yell out, I'll kill you. Understood?'

Halt watched him for a few seconds, making sure that the King had grasped the position. Ferris was only too willing to agree. After all, in Halt's position, he would have had no hesitation in killing his own brother.

Carefully, Halt cut him free and waited while Ferris rubbed his wrists to relieve the discomfort caused by the tight binding. The King looked up at his brother. There was nothing but malice in his eyes.

`How long do you think you can keep this up? You won't get away with this, Halt!' he said.

But Halt noted that, in spite of the animosity, Ferris was careful to keep his voice down. He smiled grimly at him.

`I've already got away with it, Ferris. You're committed now. I've made sure of it.'

`Committed? How? Committed to what?'

`You're committed to supporting the Sunrise Warrior in trial by combat against two of Tennyson's henchmen. I made the announcement on your behalf in front of the entire town. You're quite the popular figure as a result,' he added mildly.

`I won't go through with it!' Ferris said. His voice started to rise but a quick frown from Halt made him lower his tone. 'I'll call it off!'

`You do and the mob will tear you to pieces,' Halt warned him. 'They're very keen on the idea. You should have heard them shouting "Long live the King". It was very touching, really. I imagine they've never said that before.'

`I'll contact Tennyson! I'll tell him…' He stopped. Halt was shaking his head.

`I doubt he'll talk to you. You defied him in public. You challenged him. You belittled him. You called him a charlatan and a mountebank, if memory serves me. Worst of all, you went back on your agreement with him. No, your, majesty, you're committed to defeating Tennyson because if you don't, he will surely kill you.'

Realisation was slowly dawning in Ferris's eyes as he saw how Halt had closed the trap around him. His only course now was to go along with his brother and hope that the young warrior who accompanied him could defeat not one but two men in personal combat. Halt decided it was time to force the point well and truly home.

'ou're caught, Ferris. Call off the combat and the mob will kick you off the throne. If they don't, Tennyson will kill you. And if he doesn't, I will. Understand?'

Ferris's eyes dropped from Halt's and he shook his head from side to side. Eventually, he said in a low voice, 'I understand.'

Halt nodded. 'Good. Look on the bright side. If we succeed, you'll have your throne back, and your people will love you – at least until you start behaving like yourself again.'

But Ferris had nothing more to say.

`Sean! Is that hot water here?' Halt called through the curtain.

Sean and Horace hurried into the robing room, bearing a bowl of hot water, several towels and soap. They glanced at the despondent figure of the King and Halt explained what had gone between them.

`I think it might be safer if the King is kept out of sight for the next few days,' he said. 'Perhaps confined to hischambers with a nasty fit of the ague. Can you organise that, Sean? It'd be better if Ferris and I weren't seen together too often, now that Horace has savaged my poor beard.'

Sean nodded. 'I have people I trust who'll help,' he said. 'There's more than one has wanted to see the King do something about the situation we're in. They'll lend a hand.'

`Good. Just keep him quiet until the day of the combat. I take it you can organise the details for that?'

`We'll need stands for the crowd and an arena,' Sean said, his brow furrowed. 'Pavilions for the combatants and so on. I'll take care of it.'

`I'll leave that to you. Horace and I will go into smoke for the next few days. How can we contact you if we need to?'

Sean thought for a few seconds. 'There's a sergeant of the garrison called Patrick Murrell. He's a former retainer of mine. Contact him and he'll get a message to me.'

`That's it then.' Halt looked at his brother, still sitting hunched on a low stool. 'Ferris, look up and listen to me. I want you to understand something.'

Reluctantly, Ferris dragged his eyes up to his brother's. Then he stared into them, like a bird watching a snake as it slowly draws closer.

`This is your only chance of remaining King. I've told you I have no wish to take the throne and I mean it. If things work out, you'll be safe. But if you try to sabotage us, if you betray us, if you try to contact Tennyson and make some last-minute deal, I will find you. And the first you'll know I'm around is just before you drop dead, when you see my arrow standing out from your heart. Is that clear?'

`Yes.' Ferris's voice was barely a croak.

Halt drew a. deep breath and let it out again. Dismissing the King from his thoughts, he turned to Horace.

`Good. Now let's get this damned soot and dirt out of my hair.'

Some time later, the guards outside the throne room saw the two visitors leave. Halt's hair had been restored to its normal shade of pepper-and-salt grey and Horace had used another mixture of soot and dirt to re-create his original beard line. Seen close to, it wouldn't stand muster. But from a few paces away, and in the shadow of Halt's cowl, it served reasonably well. With a few days' growth of stubble to enhance it, it would look even more realistic. For the moment, at least it masked Halt's similarity to his twin brother.

The two Araluans rode back down the ramp into the village, returning to the inn where they had paid for another night's accommodation.

`We'll spend a night here and give Will a chance to catch up with us,' Halt said. 'Then I think we'd better get out of town and become invisible.'

`Fine by me,' Horace replied.

Halt looked long and hard at his young friend. 'Horace, I've sort of thrown you in at the deep end with all this. I just assumed you'd be willing to go along with the trial by combat challenge. But if you want to back away from it, just say the word and we'll leave Ferris to his own devices.'

Horace was frowning at him before he finished speaking. 'Back away, Halt? Why would I do that?'

Halt shrugged uncomfortably. 'As I said, I committed you to this without asking you. It's not your fight. It's mine, really. And those two islanders could be a handful.'

Horace smiled and held out his hand, fingers spread. `Lucky I've got big hands, then, isn't it? Halt, we've known it might come to this from the beginning. That was the reason for evoking the Sunrise Warrior legend, after all.'

He paused and Halt nodded reluctant agreement. It had been unspoken, but understood and accepted, in all their minds. Then he went on.

`I can handle Tennyson's two little playmates. That's what I'm trained for, after all. They're big but I doubt they're too skilful. As for this being your fight and not mine… well, you're my friend. And that makes it my fight.'

Halt looked up at the earnest young face before him and shook his head slowly.

`What did I do to deserve such loyalty?' he asked.

Horace pretended to consider the question seriously, then replied, 'Well, nothing much. But we promised Lady Pauline we'd look after you.'

To which Halt replied with a few words Horace had heard before – and several that were new to him.