The Kings of Clonmel

Chapter 45

Nobody had seen him go. As Sean had said, everyone's eyes were riveted on the drama being played out on e'combat arena. 'Chances are, he left before the duel even took place,' Halt said. 'He's not the type to take chances. If his man had won, it would have been easy to return and claim victory. So he sent one of the assassins to murder Ferris, then got clean away. Now he has a head start on us. And we have no way of knowing which way he went.'

They had ridden immediately to the Outsiders' camp but there was no sign of Tennyson or his party. There were a few sullen acolytes remaining there but the vast majority had been at the market ground. Those remaining in camp denied seeing their leader depart.

Halt was torn by frustration. There was so much to attend to here. Tennyson's remaining followers had to be rounded up and secured. He set Sean and the castle garrison to that task. The vast majority would be turned loose, he knew. They were simple dupes and Tennyson's behaviour had alienated most of them, revealing his true colours to them. But there were perhaps eighty white robes who had been part of his inner circle and willing accomplices to his crimes. They would have to be arrested, tried and imprisoned.

At the same time, all his instincts told him he should be out hunting Tennyson and his small party, finding which way they had gone. But he was needed in Dun Kilty. Ferris's death had left a power vacuum. Someone had to take control and, as the rightful heir, he was the logical choice. It would only be temporary. As he had told Ferris, he had no wish to be King – but every moment he delayed meant that Tennyson would be slipping further away.

Finally, he came to the logical, the only, solution.

'Go after them for me, Will,' he said. 'Find out where they're headed and send word. Don't try to stop them yourself. There are too many of them and those Genovesans will be doubly dangerous now they've seen you kill their comrade. Stay out of sight and wait for us to catch up.'

Will nodded and started towards the stable where they had left their horses that morning. Then he hesitated and turned back.

'What about Horace? His eyes…' He paused uncertainly, not wanting to continue. Halt patted his shoulder reassuringly.

'Sean had the royal surgeon check him over. He's pretty sure he knows what the drug was and it's a temporary condition. His vision seems to be improving already. In a day or so, he'll be back to normal.'

Will let go a small sigh of relief. 'At least that's good news.'

Halt nodded agreement. 'I think we deserved some.' Then he thought about that and realised that they had enjoyed more than their share in the past day or so.

'I haven't had a chance to say it, but you did well,' he told the young Ranger. 'Very well indeed. The bluff with the water was inspired. We needed to reveal Tennyson's treachery and that tipped the scales. A simple defeat in combat might not have convinced all his followers that he was a charlatan.'

Will shrugged awkwardly. He was embarrassed by the praise. Yet at the same time, it meant so much to him. There was only one person in the world whose approval he sought and that was his grey-haired former teacher.

'One question,' Halt said. 'How did you know the Genovesan was going to duck?'

He'd seen the flight of Will's arrow, seen the assassin step into Its path. And he knew Will's standard of accuracy with the longbow. The arrow had gone where he had intended it to.

Will scratched his head. 'I don't know. I just… knew it somehow. It seemed so much in keeping with everything else they'd done so far. And he was right-handed, so I thought the odds were good that he'd step off his right foot, the master side. So I aimed to compensate. Call it instinct, I suppose. Or dumb luck.'

'I prefer to think that it was instinct,' Halt told him.

'Sometimes I feel we should pay more attention to it. In any event, well done. Now go and find Tennyson for me.'

Will grinned and slipped away, hurrying through the crowds who were still thronging the market square, talking excitedly about the events of the day. Within ten minutes, he was riding out the gates of the town, looking for someone who might have seen which direction Tennyson and his group had taken. This close to Dun Kilty, where hundreds of hooves and feet had trampled over the main road all day, there was little chance that he'd find tracks to follow. But once he was clear of the town, he knew he'd find country people – the sort of folk who noticed strangers riding past. It was only a matter of time. He came to a T junction in the road and stopped. Which way? North or south?

'You choose,' he told Tug and released the reins. The little horse tossed his head impatiently and turned right – to the north. It was as good a way of deciding as any, Will thought. He touched the barrel sides with his heels and set Tug to a slow, easy canter north.

Three days later, Halt had Sean call an assembly of the senior nobles in Dun Kilty. They would be the people who would have to ratify the succession of the new King, whoever he might be.

They assembled in the throne room, eyeing each other uncertainly. By now they all knew Halt's identity and knew he was the rightful King. They wondered how he would deal with the people who had accepted Ferris, a usurper, all these years. All too often, people who had been cheated had a tendency to pay back those who had cheated them – and those who had accepted the situation, even unknowingly.

Several of them were discussing this in low tones as they waited for Halt to arrive – until they realised that he wasalready among them. They weren't used to this. Kings were supposed to sweep into a room majestically – not suddenly appear without anyone seeing their arrival. They shifted uncertainly, waiting for the green-and-grey-cloaked stranger to state his terms – and determine their fates.

Sean of Carrick stood at Halt's side. Halt motioned for the nobles to seat themselves. A half circle of benches had been placed in front of the throne. They were surprised when he sat with them. They had expected him to take the dominant position, assuming the throne on Its raised dais.

'My lords, I'll be brief,' Halt said. 'You know who I am. You know how my brother cheated me. You know I have an undeniable claim to the throne of Clonmel.'

He paused and let his eyes roam around the half circle. He saw heads nodding, and eyes dropping from his. He understood their nervousness and decided not to prolong their uncertainty any further.

'What you don't know is that I have no intention of claiming it.'

That got their attention, he thought. Heads came up round the half circle, curiosity mingled with disbelief in their looks. Nobody in his right mind refused the throne, they all thought. He allowed himself a grim smile.

'I know what you're thinking. Well, let me tell you, I have no wish to be a king, here or anywhere else. I've been gone too long to consider this my home any more. I have a home in Araluen. And I have a king I respect. I think you should have the same. Sean, who is next in line to the throne?'

He fired the question at the younger man without warning. Sean rose to his feet, a little taken aback.

`Um… oh… well, in fact, that would be… me,' he said. Halt nodded. He had known as much.

'Then you appear to be the most suitable candidate for the position,' he said. He looked around the room. 'Anybody disagree?'

In truth, there had been more than one who had heard Halt's disavowal of the throne and had felt a quick surge of ambition – a hope that they might be able to assume the crown for themselves. But the speed of events, and the gleam in Halt's eye, told them that it might be a bad idea to continue to nourish such ambitions. There was a hasty mumble of assent from the circle of nobles.

Halt nodded. 'I didn't think you would.'

'Just a moment! I certainly disagree!' Sean said.

The Ranger turned to him. 'You have a clear and unchallenged claim to the throne. Do you not want it?'

He saw Sean hesitate and knew that he was an intelligent young man. There were many good reasons not to take the crown, Halt knew. A king's hold on the throne in this country could be tenuous. Sean would need to be a strong and alert ruler at all times. And he would be surrounded by a group of venal self-seeking nobles who would take any opportunity to undermine him if it advanced their own interests. All good reasons to refuse the crown.

But before Sean could answer, he rephrased his question.

'Let me put that another way. Is there anyone here you would prefer to see on the throne?' He indicated the half circle of nobles, who were watching the byplay between Sean and Halt with growing fascination.

And that was the crux of it. The same reasons why Sean might refuse the crown were also the ones that made it imperative that he accept it.

To a man, the group assembled here was self-seeking and self-centred. If one of them took the crown, it wouldn't be long before others contested the choice and the Kingdom was thrown into disarray. Sean was the only one among them with a rightful claim to the throne and the strength of character and purpose to command their loyalty. And at heart, Sean knew it. Reluctantly, he took a step forward, towards Halt.

'Very well. I accept,' he said. It might not be what he wanted, but it was what the country needed and he was enough of a patriot to recognise that fact. Halt waited a few seconds, then turned to the others.

'Anyone object?' he asked – and it may have been a coincidence that his left hand dropped casually to the hilt of his saxe knife as he did so. The nobles hastily agreed that no, nobody objected, fine choice and congratulations King Sean.

Halt turned to his nephew. 'Now, Sean, I have one condition, before I formally renounce any claim I might have to the throne. We've broken the back of the Outsiders' movement in Clonmel. But they're still entrenched in the other five kingdoms. I want them rolled up, disbanded and their leaders imprisoned. With Tennyson out of the way and discredited, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. A bit of firm action and they'll collapse like a house of cards. And I'm sure the other five kings won't object.'

But Sean was shaking his head. 'That'll take a strong military force,' he said. 'I don't have the men for it, unless I leave Clonmel unprotected. And I'm not prepared to do that.'

Halt nodded approvingly. The young man's answer told him that he'd been right in selecting him as the new King.

'Which is why I'm willing to write to King Duncan in Araluen and request that he send an armed force of, say, one hundred and fifty men to serve under you: knights, men at arms and a company of archers. If you agree.'

Sean considered the offer. 'And when we've got rid of the Outsiders, this force would return to Araluen?' No ruler would be eager to see a powerful foreign force on his own land without such an assurance.

'You have my word on it,' Halt said.

Agreed,' Sean said and they shook hands. He glanced at the group of nobles and they hastened to mumble their agreement. 'I'll be needing levies of troops from all of your estates as well,' he said, and again heads nodded round the half circle.

We can iron out the details later,' Halt said. 'Right now, Horace is waiting for me and, unless I miss my guess, he'll be hungry. Gentlemen, I'll leave you to discuss matters such as the coronation.' He smiled at Sean, one of his rare genuine smiles. 'With your permission, your majesty?'

For a moment, Sean didn't react. Then he realised he was being addressed.

`Eh? Oh, yes. Of course, Halt… Uncle. Carry on… please.'

Halt stepped a little closer so that only Sean could hear him.

'You'd better work on your regal manner,' he said.

Horace was waiting for him in the anteroom. The young warrior's eyesight was nearly fully recovered as the drug worked its way out of his bloodstream. On the surgeon's advice, he was bathing his eyes several times a day in warm salted water. They were a little red-rimmed but he was moving more certainly now.

He rose as Halt exited the throne room and the Ranger studied him briefly, glad to see he was nearly back to normal.

'So, how did it go?' Horace asked cheerfully. 'Should I curtsey to you, Good King Halt?'

'You do and I'll give you a clip over the ear,' Halt growled, suppressing a smile. 'Sean is to be King.'

Horace nodded. 'Good choice,' he said. 'By the way, a rider came in a little while ago, with a message from Will.'

Halt's head snapped up at that. It was the first word they had had from Will since he had ridden out in pursuit of Tennyson.

`He said "Fingle Bay",' Horace continued.

The Ranger pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'It's in the north. A fishing port and a small harbour. Let's collect our gear and get on the road.'

Horace gave him a pained look.

'What about lunch?' he asked. His hopes of a meal sank as he saw that familiar lift of Halt's eyebrow.

'What about lunch?' Halt replied. Horace shook his head despondently.

'I knew I should have told you after we'd eaten,' he said.