The Lions of the North

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gervase Bret had much to recount but Ralph Delchard listened without interruption. He winced when he heard of the ambush, and his jaw dropped when the death of Nigel Arbarbonel was reported in detail. Ralph’s own day in York seemed dull and unproductive when compared to the adventures with Olaf Evil Child. Relieved to welcome his friend back unharmed, he was now feeling a distinct envy of him.

“You should have taken me with you!” he insisted.

“I would never have got near Olaf if I had.”

“Do not speak so fondly of the man.”

“He helped us, Ralph.”

“To curry favour.”

“Olaf Evil Child is wrongly maligned.”

“Stop apologising for him, Gervase. It annoys me. Have you so soon forgotten? The villain stole our horses.”

“No, Ralph. He only borrowed them.”

“I will only borrow his head when I meet him!”

When the sumpter-horses were stabled, the men had gone straight to Gervase’s apartment in the keep to exchange news. Ralph was delighted that he would not have to explain his friend’s absence to Aubrey Maminot and to account for the fact that he had allowed him to leave the city so unprotected. Envy soon turned to affection and Ralph reached out to embrace Gervase.

“By all, it is good to see you again!”

“It is good to be back inside four walls,” said Gervase as they parted.

“But what have you learned today?”

“That I never wish to get that close to fish again.”

“Fish?”

“Yes,” said Ralph with a grimace. “I traced Tanchelm’s footsteps to the harbour. Anyone in York could have picked up my scent when I left. Canon Hubert certainly did.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“At the minster. I engaged his services.”

154

Gervase was astounded. “You told him?”

“I did not need to. He has sharper wits than I gave him credit for, Gervase. He does not know what Tanchelm’s main reason for coming to Yorkshire was, but he is certain that it was not to settle property disputes.”

“What did he actually say?”

“Very little. Hubert can be discreet.”

“And you employed him?”

“He offered to help. I set him onto Brother Francis.”

“Why?”

“A number of things puzzled me about the fellow,” said Ralph. “Do you recall a tussle with Nigel Arbarbonel in which he always seemed to hold the whip hand over us?”

“It was almost as if he was primed in advance.”

“He was-by Brother Francis.”

“Our scribe? But he seemed such a helpful man.”

“So did Tanchelm of Ghent.”

“Are you sure of this?” said Gervase, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Brother Francis had no access to our papers.”

“He listened. We forgot he was there.”

“Only because we trusted him implicitly.”

“That was our fatal error,” said Ralph. “Hubert sounded him out earlier and missed Vespers in order to bring me his opinion. Our genial monk was another spy.”

“Working for my lord Nigel?”

“Indirectly. Everything came through another source.”

“And who was that?”

“It grieves me to say this, Gervase, and I am still not entirely convinced myself but … the man appears to be Aubrey Maminot.”

“Does he even know Brother Francis?”

“They are friends.”

“I cannot imagine him going anywhere near a monk.”

“Francis did not always wear the cowl. He served as a soldier under Aubrey’s command. Old loyalties remain. He is a useful source of gossip and information.”

“But he was assigned to us through the good offices of the archbishop himself.”

“Aubrey has great influence in York. My guess is that he arranged for Brother Francis to sit with us when he heard that we were in need of a scribe. Who would not trust a monk? I must confess that he took me in.”

“Canon Hubert has done well to expose him.”

“He has, Gervase. When I taxed Aubrey himself about our merry monk, he explained away their friendship in terms of the abbey. He told me that Brother Francis had once borne arms, but he made no mention of having served with him. Is that not strange? It was Hubert who dug out the truth.”

Gervase was alarmed. “Everything we have said in the privacy of our deliberations has come back here?”

“So it would seem.”

“And then?”

“It was passed on to Nigel Arbarbonel.”

“No wonder he was able to frustrate our purpose,” said Gervase.

“Well, he will not do so again.”

Ralph gave a grudging nod. “That is one thing I have to thank Olaf Evil Child for. He has rid us of my lord Nigel. What I still would like to know is why Aubrey was so thick with that smooth-voiced popinjay.

What was there between them that made my good friend, as I thought him, betray us?”

“Something that my lord Nigel said may help us there.”

“Oh?”

“When he thought he would best Olaf in combat, he talked as if he were about to slay an animal. He said that my lord Aubrey would pay well for Olaf’s pelt.”

Ralph weighed the significance of the remark. It hurt him deeply to think that his host might have been working covertly against them and he was still hoping that he might have been mistaken. But the evidence was now overwhelming.

“Golde was our other ally,” he said.

“Ally?”

“Hubert delivered Brother Francis. She served up the cook. What better person to talk to about the guests at this castle than the man who has to feed them? Golde put me on to him by accident. I spent a fruitful hour in the kitchen.”

“What did the cook say?”

“All sorts of things, Gervase. Mostly complaints. Aubrey has a habit of waking him up to prepare midnight feasts for guests who have just arrived.” He raised an eyebrow. “What sort of men only travel by night?

The cook gave me dates and times and one other fact of note.”

“Let me tell you what it is,” said Gervase, anticipating him. “My lord Tanchelm also spoke with him.”

“Yes.”

“So his attention, too, was directed to this castle. He found out what we are only just beginning to learn. And they killed him for it.”

There was a roar from below as Romulus and Remus were given a measure of freedom for the night. They ran down the mound, then padded around the ditch at the bottom, baring their teeth in snarls of warning. Gervase crossed to the window to look down but the darkness hid them. He thought of the mutilated body he had seen in the morgue.

“Do you know why Toki came here?”

“That intruder?”

“Yes,” said Gervase. “He and Ragnar Longfoot climbed into the castle that night. Only men with a powerful reason would take such a huge risk. Inga found out why they came here.”

“To kill Aubrey?”

“No. To steal something. Ragnar spoke of charters and of treasure.

Toki was convinced that there was some kind of hoard at the castle and that it was vital to find it. So he came like a thief in the night.”

“And found Romulus and Remus instead.”

“Yes, Ralph.”

As if hearing their names, the lions roared in protest and raced around the ditch in search of prey. Gervase was still at the window as the noise reverberated. It set off a thought that had not occurred to him before.

“You say the cook talked of midnight feasts?”

“For late arrivals at the castle.”

“How did they get in?”

“What?”

“The lions patrol the ditch every night,” reminded Gervase. “When they are released, nobody can enter or leave the keep. If travellers came into the castle so late, how did they get in here in order to be fed by the cook?”

Aubrey Maminot waited impatiently while the servants cleaned the cage. By the light of torches, the two men used brooms to sweep the soiled rushes into a pile before putting them in a wooden barrow. The floor of the cage was then sluiced with water. When that was dry, fresh rushes would be scattered. The servants departed with their barrow.

“I thought they would never finish,” said Aubrey.

“Blame me,” said Ludovico. “I banged their heads together yesterday and told them to be more thorough in their work. Romulus and Remus must have a clean cage every morning. The servants will not be slack again.”

“Stand over them when they strew the fresh rushes.”

“I will.”

“They must never be allowed in there alone.”

Aubrey went into the cage with Ludovico behind him. Both were carrying flaming torches. With the floor now cleared of its bedding, the trapdoor was revealed in full. It was very large and secured by two heavy bolts. Aubrey drew them back and lifted the door. He went down a few of the stone steps before turning back.

“Lock it after me, Ludovico.”

“I always do.”

“You know the signal for my return.”

“I will be here.”

“Then I bid you farewell.”

“Good night,” said Ludovico. “Give her a kiss from me.”

Philip the Chaplain knelt before the altar and offered up his final prayer of the day. With an indifference born of repetition, he crossed himself, rose from the altar rail and genuflected towards the crucifix high above him. When he turned to leave the chapel, he was startled to see Gervase Bret standing in the doorway.

“It is late, Master Bret,” he said.

“I hoped that I would still catch you here.”

“I was about to retire for the night.”

“Then I will be brief.” Gervase stepped into the chapel and closed the heavy door behind him. “It concerns the letter that you kindly gave to me.”

Philip was agitated. “Do not talk of it. You promised that you would never mention where it came from.”

“Nor will I. The letter is destroyed. Nobody else will ever see it or connect it with the chaplain.” Philip relaxed visibly. “I came first to thank you once again.”

“Your discretion is all the thanks I need.”

“We require some further help.”

“We?”

“My lord Ralph and I.”

Alarm returned. “You told him of my part in this?”

“Not a word.”

“I have my place here in the castle, Master Bret.”

“I know.”

“Nothing must jeopardise that.”

“I fear that something may,” said Gervase softly. “Though it will not be our doing. The threat comes from within.” The chaplain gulped slightly. “That is why we need your assistance. You have been here for several years. You know the operation of the castle as well as anybody.”

“I close my eyes to what does not concern me.”

“In the interests of justice, I must ask you to open them slightly. You know what I speak of. Three bodies have lain in your morgue this past week. One was that of an old servant who had lived out his allotted span.”

“He passed away quietly in his sleep.”

“The other two were not as fortunate,” said Gervase. “The first was mauled by lions, the second was throttled. Violent deaths in both cases.”

“But quite unconnected.”

“I begin to wonder.”

“Why?”

“Both men were searching for something inside this castle. Both were punished for their curiosity. What were they after, do you think?”

“I cannot say, Master Bret.”

“Can you not hazard a guess?”

“I am the chaplain here and nothing more.”

“Your duty is to the castellan,” said Gervase. “I understand that. You owe your place to him. But is there not a higher duty that overrides my lord Aubrey?”

“Higher duty?”

“To truth. To justice. To God.”

Philip took a step back and glanced around nervously.

“Should murder go unpunished?” pressed Gervase.

“No, it should not.”

“Should evil go unchecked?”

“No,” whispered the other, “it should not.”

“Then tell me about them.”

“Who?”

“Visitors to the castle. Unusual guests who arrive at strange hours of the night. Men whose horses are covered in the sweat of long, hard journeys. Strangers.” He put a hand on the chaplain’s shoulder. “Tell me about them.”

Ralph Delchard waited until he heard the sound of her breathing change slightly. Golde was asleep. Detaching his arms from around her, he rolled her gently onto her back and slipped out of the bed. His mind would not let him rest. Aubrey Maminot was an old and trusted friend of his. The thought that his host might be involved in deception and manipulation was abhorrent to Ralph. At one level, he simply could not believe it. When he considered that murder and even treason might be laid at Aubrey’s door, his brain revolted. It was impossible. A perverse illusion.

Action was the only way to relieve his turmoil. If the castellan was innocent of the charges, then that innocence needed to be established at the earliest opportunity. If he was guilty, then the appropriate steps would have to be taken. He had to find out. Even with Golde beside him, Ralph could not lie in a warm bed and drift off to sleep.

He fumbled for his apparel and dressed as quickly as he could. Reaching for his dagger, he thrust it into his belt. Ralph let himself out of the room, shut the door quietly behind him, then moved across to the candle that burned in an alcove. With its modest light to guide him, he set off down the stairs, pausing every time his weight coaxed a squeak out of the boards.

The apartment was high in the tower and it took him some minutes to work his way slowly down past the other bedchambers, the solar, the hall, the chapel, the kitchen and the tiny rooms where servants slept four to a bed. He could smell the cage before he reached it. Even with its fresh rushes, it retained the unmistakable flavour of Romulus and Remus. He crept up to it and peered through the bars.

Letting himself into the cage, he went quickly across to make certain that the door to the outside was securely locked. Ralph did not want the lions to return and catch him in their lair. Romulus and Remus were truculent hosts. When he was satisfied that they could not reach him, he knelt on the floor and brushed back the rushes, looking for the trapdoor he had seen earlier. His hand fell on a bolt and he cleared the floor around it.

When the trapdoor was uncovered, he knew at once that it did not serve a mere storeroom for herbs. The door was too large, the carpentry too careful. It fitted snugly and firmly in place. Ralph eased back the bolts and lifted the door back on its hinges. His candle disclosed stone steps, which curled down into the ground. He was circumspect. Leaving the trapdoor open, he went down the steps with patient curiosity, using the candle to illumine the walls on both sides of him.

Reaching the bottom, he found himself in a subterranean passage that obliged him to duck as he moved along. After only a few yards, his thigh touched something and he drew back at once, snatching out his dagger to ward off an attack. The candle flame revealed his assailant to be no more than a large chest, set into a cavity in the wall. When he saw the size of the chest and its formidable array of locks, he was reminded of Toki’s visit to the castle. He had come in search of some kind of hoard. The chest was certainly capacious enough to hold it, and no treasure could be more securely guarded than this.

Ralph pressed on along the passage, following its twists and turns until he had no sense of where he might be in relation to the keep. He walked on until he came to a metal door that was reinforced with thick hasps. When he tried to open it, the door would not budge a fraction.

Since there was no sign of a key, he wondered if someone had been through the exit to lock it from the outside. He was convinced that he had come under the castle walls and that the door gave concealed access to the city. The problem of how midnight visitors entered the keep was now solved.

A noise behind him made him grab his weapon again and he had a sensation of panic as he thought it might be the lions. To be caught in such a confined space by Romulus and Remus would be a nightmare.

Escape would be unthinkable and his dying cries would go unheard.

He had a vision of Golde, waking to find the bed beside her empty, going demented when she saw his blood-stained remains hauled out of the tunnel. It made him hurry back the way he had come.

There was nobody there and his confidence quickly seeped back.

Stopping beside the chest once more, he ran a meditative hand over it before continuing on to the steps. He never thought he would be so grateful to climb back into a lions’ cage but he did so with a sigh of relief. Setting down his candle, he used both hands to lower the trapdoor into position and slide the bolts home.

The candle saved his life. As its flame danced violently in the sudden displacement of air, he was given a split-second warning of the attack.

Someone had charged up on him from behind. When a coil was thrown around his neck, Ralph instinctively put up his hands to work his fingers inside it. His assailant was strong and determined. The noose tightened inexorably. The man put his knee in the small of Ralph’s back to apply even more pressure.

There was a dagger in his belt but it was out of reach. Ralph needed both hands to prevent the breath from being squeezed out of him. He tugged at the coil but it was cutting into his fingers. Ralph knew that he was up against Tanchelm’s assassin. The man had killed before with vicious effectiveness but he did not have a sitting target this time. Ralph was more powerful and resourceful than Tanchelm of Ghent.

Throwing his legs out in front of him, Ralph dropped to the floor and pulled his assailant down after him. The suddenness of the move deprived the man of his grip and Ralph was able to tear the noose away. But the escape was only temporary. As Ralph rolled over, the man dived on top of him to grip his throat in both hands. A thumb seemed to burrow deep into Ralph’s windpipe and he began to choke.

Punching at the man with one hand, he used the other to grasp the dagger and lunge upwards.

With a yell of pain, the man rolled away, knocking over the candle and extinguishing its pale flame. Ralph had wounded him in the side but it only served to inflame the attacker and he came hurtling out of the darkness. Trying to rise from the floor, Ralph was knocked flying again and the weapon spun out of his hand. Powerful arms enfolded him once more and the men grappled wildly, threshing about in the rushes as they sought for the hold that would end the contest.

His adversary squeezed, punched, scratched, gouged and even bit him in an attempt to subdue him but the advantage had been shifted now. Ralph had superior strength and a greater surge of purpose. A fight that had lasted for several long minutes was over in an instant.

As they grappled once more, Ralph flipped him onto his stomach, put a knee in his back, then used both hands to pull back his head. There was a loud crack and the man’s neck broke.

Ralph clambered up and stood panting over his opponent. He needed no light to identify the man. The would-be assassin was Ludovico, the keeper of the beasts. His chosen weapon was the whip that had strangled Tanchelm of Ghent.

Olaf Evil Child had never had a decision challenged before and it embittered him. Men who owed their lives to his leadership were now daring to contest it. What caused him the most pain was the fact that Eric, his closest friend, was now speaking against him. The giant waved a massive fist.

“We will not go, Olaf!” he announced.

“But it is for our own good, Eric.”

“I will surrender to nobody!”

“Nor me!” said a voice.

And a dozen more rushed to endorse its affirmation.

They were seated around the campfire at night. Olaf looked at them with disgust. Living as nomads had bonded them strongly together and taught them how much they relied on each other. Each man brought his own skills to the band but it was Olaf who had turned those individual skills to the best use. Without his guidance, they would never have survived so long. It was time to remind them of their obligations to him.

“Who brought you all together?” he demanded.

“You did,” said Eric.

“Who fed you and watered you? Who planned our raids? Who kept us out of reach of every search party that ventured out of York in pursuit of us?”

“You did,” repeated Eric.

“And was my advice sound?”

“Very sound.”

“So why ignore it now?”

“Because it smacks of weakness.”

“Weakness!” He leapt to his feet. “If anyone thinks that I am weak, let him test me here and now. That includes you, Eric. I am ready.

Who will be first?”

Embarrassed muttering broke out among the men. None of them responded to his challenge. Most looked away. Eric wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

“Nobody doubts your bravery,” he conceded.

“Thank you, Eric!”

“We all saw what you did to my lord Nigel.”

“I am glad that someone has remembered at last.”

“But we will not go into York with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we are outlaws.”

“With a chance of pardon.”

“From Normans?” Eric was contemptuous. “Never! They will hang us first and pardon us afterwards.” Murmurs of general agreement went up. “You heard my lord Nigel. He would have cut you down without a second thought. They are all the same.”

“Gervase Bret is not.”

“He is only one man among many.”

“He gave us his word, Eric.”

“What use is that in a city as big as York? He carries no weight there. I’ll not put my future in the hands of a man with a bandage around his head.”

“Will nobody come with me?” pleaded Olaf.

“Yes,” said Ragnar Longfoot. “I will.”

“Then you are as mad as Toki,” said Eric.

Ragnar bridled. “Toki was the bravest man alive.”

“He was a hothead who threw that life away,” countered Eric. “Do you think we want to end up like him, Ragnar? No! I would rather feed off vermin out here than get eaten by lions in York.”

“Then you are a fool!” accused Olaf. “Feed off vermin and you become vermin.”

“At least we will stay alive.”

“Roaming the wilderness? Stealing to survive? It has been bad enough already, Eric. How much worse will it be when winter settles in?” He made a last appeal. “That is a time when we need a roof over our heads and warm food in our bellies. When we need to be with our families.”

He walked across to crouch in front of Eric. “Gervase Bret has offered us a chance. A slim one, I grant you. And, yes, there are many dangers involved. But I am ready to trust him.”

“I am not, Olaf,” said his friend.

“Will you not trust me?”

“Not this time.”

He searched the faces around the campfire.

“Ragnar is with me,” he said. “Who else?”

Not a single voice was heard. Olaf was deeply hurt.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “We are done. You can stay here while I go to York to fight for my inheritance. If I die, you can all sneer at Olaf Evil Child and say how stupid he was. But if I win my land back-and yours, too, for you have been dispossessed-do not come snivelling to me with your thanks and your congratulations. I will not even hear you.” He untethered his horse from a bush and swuns himself up into the saddle. “Gervase Bret is only one man, it is true. But he had the courage to come looking for me without a troop of soldiers at his back.

I will now go in search of him.”

Olaf kicked his horse into a trot and rode out of the camp. Limping across the grass, Ragnar Longfoot mounted his own horse and went after him. By the light of the fire, Eric and the others looked at each other shamefacedly. Their leader had just turned his back on them.

Ragnar, meanwhile, caught up with his friend and rode alongside him. The journey had a special meaning for him.

“I go to see Toki’s grave to ask for his forgiveness.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Ragnar.”

“I believe there is.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If they had listened to Inga, they would be with us now.”

“Why?”

“She told me how fair-minded Gervase Bret was. He will not break a promise. Safe conduct, that was his guarantee.”

“For all of us, Ragnar. Not just you and me.”

“Do not take it to heart so.”

“Eric and I were like brothers. I cannot believe that he has forgotten all we have been through together. He and the rest of them will not last a week without me.”

“They are frightened, Olaf.”

“So am I.”

They rode on through the darkness at a canter with the stars to guide them. Two miles further along the road, they heard the first menacing clack of hooves. It seemed to come from their left. When they veered off to the right, another drumming sound met their ears.

Pursuers were closing in from both directions. Olaf and Ragnar went up a hill at a gallop and crested it to find thick cover on the slope beyond. Reining in their horses, they sheltered in the bushes in the hope of shaking off the chasing pack.

Fifteen or more horses came pounding over the hill to converge on their hiding place. They seemed to know exactly where to find them.

Olaf drew his sword and Ragnar had his spear at the ready.

A familiar, deep-throated laugh rang out.

“Is that you, Eric?” said Olaf hopefully.

“Yes,” confirmed the other. “You will never get to York alone. We thought you might need an escort.”

Olaf nudged his horse forward to embrace his friend.

“You are with us, then?” he said.

“A few yards behind you at least.”

“You will not regret it.” He waved an arm. “Onward!”

They set off in a tight bunch, drawing strength from their leader, glad to be united again. Eric nudged his horse up alongside Olaf Evil Child.

“We know the real reason for this journey,” he said.

“What is that?”

“You want to see Inga again!”

“I do!” admitted Olaf with a grin. “Who would not?”

“And will this Gervase Bret really help us?”

“He swore as much.”

“I do not doubt his word. Only his ability.”

“He and the others are royal commissioners, Eric. They are here on King William’s business.”

“Yes,” said Eric, “but King William is hundreds of miles away. His army is not here to enforce the decisions of his commissioners. We have another king here.”

“I know. Aubrey Maminot.”

“Can Gervase Bret and his friends prevail over him?”

“They must. Or we are all doomed.”

Aubrey Maminot took a last, guzzling kiss from her before stealing quietly out of the house. It was a short ride across the city and the morning air was refreshing. He felt as blithe and vigorous as a man half his age. She was right about him. He was her lion.

The first cockcrow heralded the approach of dawn, and other voices were soon raised in welcome. Aubrey turned his horse towards a make-shift stable not far from his castle. When the animal was tethered inside, he let himself out and walked towards a clump of thick bushes nearby. Making sure that he was unobserved, he stepped behind the bushes to find a metal door built into a grassy bank. One twist of the key let him in. His horse would be collected as usual by one of his men. Another night of blissful madness had gone as planned.

He needed no light to guide him. Locking the door from the inside by feel, he waddled happily along the tunnel until he came to the steps.

The trapdoor was wide open and two torches were throwing their light onto the cage. Standing ahead of him, ready to welcome his master, was the keeper of the beasts. Aubrey came into the cage and walked over to him.

“Ludovico!” he greeted. “Good morrow, my friend!”

The dead man fell forward into his arms and knocked him backwards. Ralph Delchard had been lifting the Italian up. When Aubrey saw that he was holding a corpse, he dropped him at once and stared down at him in horror.

“What happened?” he gasped.

“Ludovico tried to kill me,” said Ralph.

“Never!”

“The same way that he murdered Tanchelm. With his whip. He picked the wrong man this time.”

“This is terrible,” said Aubrey with apparent concern for his guest.

“Are you all right?”

“No thanks to Ludovico.”

“He attacked you?”

“From behind.”

“He must have thought you were an intruder.”

“He knew exactly who I was, Aubrey.”

“What were you doing?”

“The same as Tanchelm. Being too inquisitive.”

Aubrey gave himself a moment to gather his wits. He was like a commander who has just suffered an unexpected reverse on the battle-field. A new strategy was required. Combat was out of the question.

Ralph was wearing his armour and had a sword in his hand. Aubrey carried only a dagger. Guards could be called but they could not get into the keep past Romulus and Remus. His lions were separating him from help. His lion keeper would never be able to assist him again.

He stepped over the prone body of the Italian.

“Ludovico was stupid,” he said callously. “I told him he would come off second best against Ralph Delchard.”

“So will you, Aubrey.”

“We are not in competition.”

“Yes, we are.”

“We need not be. What is it you want, Ralph?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Tanchelm’s murder, for a start. Ludovico was the assassin but you set him on. You ordered his death.”

“You will never prove that in a court of law.”

“I will enjoy trying.”

Aubrey chuckled. “You will not even have the chance. Take a closer look into the courtyard. I have hundreds of men at my command. You have a handful. Arrest me, if you must. But you will never get me out of here.”

“Yes, I will.”

“How?”

“The same way that you just came in.”

There was a long pause. Aubrey nodded in admiration.

“You have been inquisitive, Ralph,” he said. “What else did you see down there?”

“Enough.”

“I beg leave to doubt that.”

“It’s your secret entrance to the castle,” said Ralph. “The one you designed when it was rebuilt. Guarded throughout the day by the lions so that nobody will come anywhere near it.” He peered into the gloom.

“By the way, I found no herbs down there, Aubrey. That is a pity. You need something to take away the stink of high treason.”

“Ralph …”

“Tanchelm of Ghent was the first to suspect you.”

“He is gone. Forget him.”

“He was our colleague. His death must be requited.”

“It has been,” said Aubrey. “Ludovico paid in full. That account is settled. We must open a new one now.”

“No, Aubrey. It is all up for you.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“I do not consort with traitors!”

“Is that what you think I am?”

“We know it!”

“Do you?”

Aubrey walked calmly to the side of the cage and leaned against it.

Ralph covered his move with his outstretched sword. The castellan laughed. Taking out his dagger, he tossed it casually onto the floor.

“You do not need a weapon, Ralph. I am unarmed.”

“I will keep it drawn just the same.”

“Do you distrust me so much?”

“Yes.”

“And what charges do you bring against me? Murder? High treason?

I must be the Devil incarnate.”

“No, Aubrey. The Devil is more honest in his wickedness.”

“Let us examine the word ‘traitor,’ shall we?”

“You will examine it at the end of a rope.”

“I think not,” said the other, almost nonchalantly. “A traitor is a man who betrays his country. Is that what I have done, Ralph?”

“We believe so.”

“Ah, you only believe. A moment ago, you knew. ”

“Do not prevaricate. I have talked to your cook. He has told me about demands for food at odd hours of the night. I have questioned other members of your household. They have heard Danish voices more than once in here.”

“What does that signify?”

“You were plotting with our mortal enemies.”

“With or against?”

“You will not wriggle out of this, Aubrey,” said Ralph. “We know everything. Dates and times of your secret meetings. The nationalities of your guests. How they sneaked in and out of the castle without being seen.” He pointed with his sword. “Do you deny this?”

“Not at all.”

“Tanchelm died because he learned the same.”

“No, Ralph. Your guesswork is woefully adrift there.”

“You had him murdered.”

“Ludovico killed him,” said Aubrey, unperturbed. “That is all I will say about the event itself. I can enlighten you about the motive, however. Tanchelm was murdered not for being a spy but for not being a willing tradesman.”

“Tradesman?”

“Someone with an eye for a good bargain. You have it. Golde is proof of that. You will trade. He would not.” He indicated the sword. “Make a gesture, Ralph. Put it away.”

After a moment’s consideration, he sheathed the weapon.

“That is better. Now we can talk on equal terms. Tell me about this high treason I am supposed to have committed. You and Tanchelm have dogged my steps between you. What exactly did you find out?”

“The threat of a Danish invasion has been there for months,” said Ralph crisply. “They have the ships and they have the men. What they needed before they sailed was an ally in York itself. Someone with the power to unlock the city to them when they sail up the River Ouse.”

“They come from the east, then?”

“Of course. Up the Humber Estuary.”

Aubrey chuckled. “That is your first mistake, Ralph. I fear that Tanchelm of Ghent made it as well. Both of you looked in the wrong direction. Turn your eyes to the west. That is where my guests hailed from.”

“Irish Danes?”

“They have ambitions, too.”

“And you treated with them?”

“Several times. I confess it freely.”

“Then is your treason published.”

“Is it?” Aubrey strolled across to him. “Who is the betrayer and who the betrayed here? I wooed the Irish Danes to draw their plans out of them. I did the same with the Scots. If you have talked to my fiery cook, you will know I have had guests from north of the border as well.

They asked for my help and I offered to give it.”

“Why?”

“To insinuate myself into their counsels.”

“The King was not made aware of this strategy.”

“It is delicate work, Ralph. Winning the confidence first of the Irish Danes, then of the Scots. Patience is required. Commit it to paper and disaster threatens.”

“So you are no traitor. Is that what you claim?”

“I feign treachery to entrap our enemies.”

“Can you really expect me to believe you?”

“No,” said Aubrey with a grin. “Follow me.”

He moved to take one of the torches from its holder and Ralph put a precautionary hand on the hilt of his sword, but the castellan did not try to use it as a weapon. Instead, beckoning the other to follow, he went back through the trapdoor and down the steps. Ralph went after him at a discreet distance. When he reached the chest, Aubrey produced a key from a ring at his waist, then offered the torch to Ralph. The latter held it so that his host could unlock the chest.

“Not herbs, perhaps,” he said happily, “but something that will sweeten any man’s dream. Behold!”

He lifted the lid, then stood back out of the way. Ralph was amazed.

A veritable treasure chest stood before him. It was crammed with gold, silver, jewelled ornaments and dozens of bags of coins. Lying in amongst the wealth were piles of charters and sheaves of letters. Aubrey reached in to retrieve a large purse and an accompanying letter.

“Here,” he said. “Read this. Written to me by an emissary of King Malcolm of Scotland.” He held up the purse. “This was the payment that came with it. There are letters and gifts from Dublin as well, but your Danish is probably not adequate. This is the sum of my treason, Ralph.”

“Leading on foreign powers for your own advantage.”

“I want some return for my cunning, of course,” said Aubrey. “I may squeeze money out of them but I also squeeze their plans and their troop deployments.” He tossed the purse and letter back into the chest.

“Look at it, Ralph. I have grown rich playing our enemies off each other.”

“That is one way of looking at it.”

“What is the other?”

“You are biding your time,” decided Ralph. “Conspiring with the enemy in order to betray them, yet ready to join them if their invasions promise success. You are watching the tide to see which wave will carry you furthest.”

“I am an opportunist, that is all.”

“No, Aubrey. You are a traitor-in-waiting.”

“I am loyal to my king and country.”

“But which king? And of which country?”

“Ralph …,” coaxed the other.

“You have sold your soul, Aubrey.”

“At least I have something to show for it.” His face hardened. “We came to the North together. We killed its people and burned its houses and destroyed its crops. Then you went away. But I stayed, Ralph. I saw potential in a ruined land. I rebuilt this castle, enlarged my holdings and used every means at my disposal to extend my power. It has made me the wealthiest man in York. I more or less own this city.”

“Not anymore.”

“This is only part of my treasure.”

“It will all be confiscated and put to good use.”

“Put some of it to good use yourself,” said Aubrey, running his hand through some gold coins. “We are friends, Ralph. Take your share to seal that friendship. Trade with me.”

“No, Aubrey.”

“Take it,” urged the other, offering the coins.

“No!”

Ralph slammed down the lid of the chest with finality. Aubrey abandoned all hope of bribing his way out of his predicament. Pushing Ralph away, he darted along the passage and back up the stairs. Torch in hand, Ralph went after him but the castellan was not trying to escape. He was only running for help. He unlocked the gate that led to the outside and stepped swiftly through it.

“Romulus!” he called. “Remus! Kill him!”

Ralph followed him out but froze immediately. Obeying the command of their master, the two lions were bounding up the incline.

Olaf Evil Child led his men into the city with the farmers streaming in to sell their produce in the market. Having followed their leader thus far, Eric and the others dispersed to attract less attention. Olaf and Ragnar Longfoot rode on to the castle alone. True to his word, Gervase Bret had left instructions that they were to be admitted. As the guard swung back the gate, the newcomers went through to find the whole castle in a state of uproar.

Soldiers were yelling from the walls, women were screaming from the windows of the keep and every animal in the castle was swelling the chorus of alarm. Olaf and Ragnar gaped at what they saw on the mound. Torch in one hand and sword in the other, a man was trying to fend off two snarling lions. A second man, standing to the side, was exhorting the beasts to attack and dancing in glee as they did so.

Olaf’s instinct was to help and his brain worked fast. Swinging his horse around, he galloped out of the courtyard. Ragnar Longfoot responded differently. While Olaf saw only a man in distress, Ragnar saw the beasts that had killed Toki. He dismounted quickly and ran to the nearest staircase.

Ralph Delchard, meanwhile, was fending off Romulus and Remus as best he could, jabbing sword and flame at them while trying to keep clear of their flashing paws. The ear-splitting noise was a distraction to him but it only served to incite the animals to greater ferocity. Herleve was screeching from one window, Golde crying from another and the rest of the household fighting to watch through every available aperture.

The contest was cruelly uneven but nobody intervened. Aubrey ordered his men to hold off and they, in turn, stopped Ralph’s own soldiers from coming to his aid. Ralph’s escorts were forced to watch with revulsion as their lord struggled to stay alive. It was only a matter of time before his strength waned and the lions overpowered him.

Aubrey Maminot was in his element, urging the beasts to tear their quarry to pieces and looking for the chance to assist them in some way. As Ralph backed towards him, the castellan jumped forward and pushed him off balance. A shout of horror went up as Ralph lost his balance and rolled helplessly down the mound to the ditch at the bottom. The torch was knocked from his hand and he was left with only a sword to defend himself.

Remus was nonplussed for a moment but Romulus went in pursuit of his prey. Running down the hill, he sprang into the air with paws outstretched. Ragnar’s spear hit him hard in the side and knocked all the life out of him. Ralph dodged out of the way as the lion’s body thudded down beside him. Up on the wall, Ragnar Longfoot was cut down by half a dozen of Aubrey’s men but he went happily to his death. He had avenged Toki and proved his courage.

Remus went straight to his brother. Bleeding profusely and growling his last, Romulus was twitching about on the ground, the spear still buried deep inside him. Ralph backed gingerly away but he did not get far. Remus came at him again, lashing out with his paws and searching for a moment to pounce. The sword was an inadequate defence and Ralph could do no more than poke it in the lion’s face as he kept on the retreat. When he lost his footing again, he tumbled over.

Aubrey yelled in triumph, Remus moved in and the crowd shrieked with terror. It was then that another figure joined in the contest.

Bursting through the door of the cage, Gervase Bret came slithering down the mound with a lighted torch in each hand, waving the flames in circles and shouting at the top of his voice to attract attention.

Remus was distracted long enough for Ralph to get to his feet and to take one of the torches from Gervase as the latter came down to him.

The lion was perplexed. Fire, noise and the dying moans of Romulus confused him. Aubrey was enraged. He came skidding down the incline himself to take control.

“Kill them, Remus!” he ordered. “Kill, kill!”

With the fiercest roar yet, the lion sprang in the air and flattened Aubrey with his impetus. Claws cut through his tunic and the angry mouth closed over his face. The women at the windows turned away as the creature mauled his master. Ralph and Gervase did what they could to draw the lion away but their efforts were in vain.

Some of the garrison opened the gate in the fence and poured through to rescue their master, poking at Remus with sword and spear. The animal rounded on them angrily, howling with pain as the weapons dug into him. Scattering the soldiers, he loped out through the gate and across the courtyard, setting off hysteria in the stables and the chicken coops. It was Olaf Evil Child who had the solution. Riding into the courtyard with a fisherman’s net in his hand, he flung it over Remus with great accuracy and the animal was completely enmeshed.

Before the beast could fight his way out of his prison, soldiers hacked him to death.

Ralph was wounded but alive. Gervase was breathless but unhurt.

Lying on the grass, Aubrey Maminot was a bleeding remnant of high treason.

The lions of the North would kill no more.