The Conqueror

Her voice could barely reach a whisper. “I am sure you did, Duncan.” She wrapped her arms around her sides and began to rock slowly. Nothing mattered anymore. She only had to do what needed to be done in the moment, and carry on to the next meaningless moment.

Griffyn put the heel of his hand on the side of his head and wiped upwards. “What have you done to us, Gwyn?” he said quietly.

His words brought the tears again. They swept in rivers down her face.

“What would you have had me do, Griffyn? You, who esteem oaths and vows so dearly they fairly breathe in the room with us, what would you have done? If your king, whom you love so well, gave you the most important thing he had, to keep safe? If you’d done so much damage to so many people, and had a chance to make it right? If you’d given your word?”

She looked away, unable to watch the anguish in his eyes. He was such a good man, and all he’d ever known was hurt, and betrayal, and loss. Good and awful God, she hadn’t wanted to be one of them. She bent over as she continued speaking, tears streaming down her face.

“And then came the only man I could ever love, and to honour my vow meant I had to go against everything he’d been fighting for. Tell me, Griffyn, what would you have done?”

“I would have done what I wanted to,” he said, his voice as cold and distant as a mountaintop. “That’s what we all of us do.”

A guard clattered down the main stairway at the other end of the hallway. He raced through the clammy stone corridor, shouting. “My lord! Praise God, I’ve found you. An army comes, riding hard and straight for the Nest.”

Gwyn shot to her feet. “God save us all. Marcus.”

Griffyn gave her one long awful look. Then he and Alex and the soldier bolted back down the corridor, leaving a wake in the air that bobbed around Gwyn like a rising tide.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Griffyn stared over the battlements at the stream of soldiers washing down the hills. God Almighty, where had they all come from?

“Are the men ready?” He turned to Alex, whose squire was hurrying behind him, still buckling on his armour. Edmund was kneeling at Griffyn’s feet, lashing his greaves into place over his shins.

All around them, chaos reigned. Men and boys shouted to one another. Armed soldiers spread out along the walls, still adjusting helms and arraying themselves every ten feet with crossbows and long bows. Women fled across the bailey, young children tripping before them. Chickens and goats ran kicking and clucking through the mayhem. A dog barked incessantly. It was a brilliantly sunlit world, made more so by the ominous clouds piling up like ashen mountains on the horizon.

Griffyn saw Gwyn coming. Skirts hitched above her knees, black curls streaming out behind her, she flew across the crowded expanse of the bailey. She skidded to a halt beside a cluster of terrified women, gave each a hug and pointed towards the castle, then was off again, coming towards them.

He looked back at Alex.

“At your command, my lord. The west side, Pagan.” Alex shoved his helm between his arm and his chest. “’Tis still weak.”

Flicking his eyes across the riot around them, Griffyn nodded. “I know. Edmund?” He looked down at his fourteen-year-old squire. The boy’s head jerked up. His face was bleached white. “Are we ready?”

“Aye, my lord,” he stammered, getting to his feet.

Griffyn put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. We’ve seen battle before, and I haven’t let anyone take you from me yet.”

Edmund blinked. “Aye, sir. I mean, no sir.”

Griffyn turned to Alex. “There’s a passageway that leads underground. Behind the north side of the keep. The door is in the wall, under ivy. Light the lanterns. The way is long, but wide enough for two on foot, abreast. Take my personal guard and the left and right flanks and lead them through. It will bring you out there.”

He pointed to a hill, maybe a hundred yards distant. The forest pushed right up to its edge and stopped. A clear, sloping green hillside swathed in yellow flowers spilled out below, straight to the valley floor.

He looked at Alex. “At my command, come down and kill whoever is left.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “That means you’re not joining us.”

“I’ll take the vanguard and ride out the front gates.”

“But, Pagan. If I take the flanks and your guard…” He looked at Marcus’s army again. There must be more than five hundred. “They’ll slaughter you.”

“We’re the diversion, Alex. You’re the force.”

“Keep your guard with you,” Alex insisted in an urgent, angry voice, his head down.

“They’re the best fighters and riders. They’ll be needed for your attack. Now go.”