The Shadow Roads

Twenty-seven

Dusk brought the town of Weybridge into view. Jamm hid themin a small wood not far from the manor house of Prince Michael’s cousin.

“You won’t want to appear by day, your grace,” Jamm said, asthey hunkered down in a small copse.

“Hunger is tempting me to take that risk,” the Princeanswered, his gaze wandering to the mansion house.

“I think Jamm is right,” Carl offered. He had slumped downwith his back against a tree, a tired, disreputable-looking nobleman if thereever was one, Samul thought. “You can’t trust their servants or the freemenwho work their land. Better to go hungry another few hours than be handed overto Menwyn Wills.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but if I don’t eat a real meal soon,or preferably several, I shall fall into a state of unreason.” The summer sunfloated up, bringing a hot, windless day. The wood seemed close, but the shadewas a welcome relief. All day they could see the comings and goings of thepeople who lived on the estate. The dairymen and their dogs took the herd outto pasture after milking, and hay was cut on a field not too far off, men andwomen swinging their scythes beneath the hot sun. The bright skirts of thewomen and girls showed up at a distance, though their faces were hidden bystraw bonnets. The previous day’s cut was raked and pitchforked onto wagonsthat rolled slowly back to the barns and stables.

Samul felt a growing envy of these people, whose livesseemed so simple and untroubled by great decisions.

The day crept by, hunger taking a grip on all of them, andmore than once Samul was doubled over with stomach cramps. Sunset seemed worthyof celebration to Samul, and he almost smiled as the first stars appeared.

“I have been wondering all day,” Samul said, “who will accompanyPrince Michael? Shall we all go?”

“I won’t go,” Jamm said quickly.

“Then should the three of us go?” the Prince wondered.

Carl A’denne shook his head in the gathering gloom. “Are youknown in that house? Would the servants recognize you?”

“Certainly, yes.”

“Then there is some risk in what you do.”

The Prince considered this. He was brushing his coat in avain attempt to make it presentable. “I would like to take Lord Samul with me.After all, I shall make the claim that I have made agreements with the Renne.Having a member of the family with me will be of some benefit.”

“Unless, of course, they know my recent history,” Samulnoted.

“There is that,” the Prince said. “You were to have lostyour head …” He thought a moment. “But I can introduce you as some otherRenne, can I not? There seem to be so many of you.”

“Archer. I shall be my cousin Archer. We look much alike andfew know him, anyway. He keeps to himself and hasn’t entered a tournament sincedoing grave injury to his back, some years ago.”

“Lord Archer you shall be.”

The two noblemen set off down the hill toward the manorhouse, the thought of a meal, and perhaps a bath, lifting their spirits. Asthey departed from their friends, Jamm called after them. “Say nothing of us!”

The door to the house was answered by a footman, who, out ofrespect for the state of the world, wore a sword.

“Sir?” he said, regarding Michael by the small light thatshone through the barely opened door.

“Would you tell Lady Francesca that her cousin is here?”

“Do excuse me, sir, but may I say which cousin?”

“I’d rather surprise her, if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish, sir. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Well, he didn’t recognize you,” Samul said, “or he wouldn’thave left you standing out in the dark.”

“We’ll hope for better luck with Franny.”

“When did you last see her?”

“Oh, not a year ago. We have always had great sympathy, sheand I.”

A noise from within silenced them, and the door creakedopen, a distinctly feminine eye regarding them through the crack.

“Franny? It’s Michael.”

The eye widened. “Michael!” A chain rattled, and the doorwas flung open, light flooding out. A lovely woman threw her arms about Michael’sneck as though he were a lost son. “We thought you were dead,” she said, hervoice betraying her emotion.

“Nearly, and more than once, but I survived.”

She pulled away, all joy swept from her face. “Your father-”

“Yes, I know.”

“Who is there?” came a male voice from inside.

“Look, Henri!” Franny said. “Look who’s returned from thegrave!”

“River save us!” the man said as he caught sight of Michael.“Michael! You are a sight! Come in. Come in at once!”

Food was brought to the two vagabonds, and baths promised.Samul Renne tried to restrain himself, but feared he ate like a starvingsoldier rather than the nobleman he was. Henri A’tanelle paced back and forthacross the kitchen, where Samul and Prince Michael sat, and Franny bustledabout keeping their plates filled.

“First he formed a secret alliance with your father’s alliesand senior officers,” Henri said. “By this means Sir Eremon’s guards wereeither destroyed or driven off. Menwyn then arranged a coup, displacing theruling council he had created himself. There is no one now to oppose him. Allhave sworn allegiance to the Wills-to Menwyn Wills, that is-and anyonesuspected of sympathy to the claims of Lord Carral Wills have been eliminated… brutally.”

“And what will he do when Sir Eremon returns, I wonder?”Prince Michael asked between bites of food. He stopped a moment to drain hisalmost empty wineglass, which his cousin Franny immediately refilled.

Henri paused, placing an arm on the high mantelpiece. For amoment he stared into the fire, a portrait of a troubled man. “Men-wyn willhave no choice but to fight-and he will have a great army on his side …against Sir Eremon and a handful of his guards.”

“It doesn’t matter how small Eremon’s force,” Samul said. “Hewill win any battle against Menwyn and his armies. If Sir Eremon returns,Menwyn and his supporters will die.”

Henri and Franny glanced at each other. They werefrightened, though of what Samul was not sure.

“The Wills are demanding the greater part of everything weharvest, and we don’t hold out much hope of payment,” Franny said, fillingSamul’s glass as well. She was quite a lovely woman, Samul thought, with awarmth and ease of manner that was unlike the pampered ladies of Castle Renne.

“If Menwyn Wills has made himself so unpopular, then itshould ease our task,” Prince Michael said, not without satisfaction.

“So it would seem, but the truth is, anyone you might havecounted on in such a situation is either dead, in a cell, or has joined MenwynWills.” Henri still stared into the fire, shaking his head. “There are a few wemight speak to secretly, but any one of them might give us over to the Wills.Menwyn has been doling out portions of your father’s estates-your estates-tohis supporters, and promising even larger tracts of Renne lands.” Henri turnedaway from the fire and offered the prince a tight-lipped smile. “But we will see.There is no doubt in our minds where our loyalties lie,” he said, and looked athis wife, who nodded firmly. “I will sit and think this night and make a listof men who I believe will be loyal to the House of Innes, or those who mightthink to gain by Menwyn’s fall, and we will go over it together in the morning.But you, cousin, and Lord Archer, must have rest this night. Baths have beendrawn for you, chambers made up. Until the morning.”