Chapter 29: Saving the Kingdom
After the king had left Vincet spoke to Logan. "So what did happen with Lee?" he said quietly.
Logan narrowed his eyes. The man sounded like he knew more than he was letting on. "Nothin'," he said shortly. "Gallas tortured him. The boy didn't make it." He turned over on his side. "I wanna rest, Vincet." The other man took the dismissal for what it was and left the room.
Logan rolled over, ignoring the protesting twinge in his still-tender, whipped back. Was it only two days ago that he had been screaming in agony in Gallas's torture chamber? It felt like a lifetime. There was a huge difference between the dim, fire-lit torture chamber and this room flooded with sunlight and smelling of healer's herbs. He felt a stab of unease as he thought of Jubilee. Where was she now? If the plan had been to soften Logan up, to dash his hopes by tempting him with freedom and taking it away, then Jubilee had failed and would probably be punished by Gallas. Maybe even Julian too. The thought of Julian in the torture chamber filled Logan with a grim pleasure; but thinking of Jubilee there made him uneasy, for some reason. He didn't know why.
No, now he was lying to himself. He knew why. Because the girl had told him she was innocent. Because she really had seemed to care for him. And if it really had been a set-up, Logan wouldn't have gotten away so easily. If it had been a set-up, the girth strap on the saddle would have been cut, so he fell off as soon as the horse was in motion. Or guards would have stopped them. Logan vaguely remembered seeing a guard lying on the floor of the stone corridor. It had been too dark to see if the man was dead, but the stench of blood had been strong. And why let the other prisoners out?
Guards could have been posted in the forest; Jubilee, and Julian, would have known he wouldn't be able to avoid the road. The territory was unfamiliar; he would have taken the same way out as they took going in. And, if she was the traitor, she wouldn't have given him the Queen's ring. That little tiny circle of gold, together with the information, was enough to bring Gallas, Julian, and the unknown traitor down. She could so easily have withheld the gold ring, and there was little chance that Renee would have believed a messenger if the ring weren't given her with the message. Only the Queen and her spies would understand the significance of the ring.
So it was possible that maybe it wasn't a setup, that she honestly had been trying to help him escape. But if that was true, then it was also quite possible that she wasn't in Julian's bed voluntarily, that she had gone there to get Julian to relax his guard long enough for her to slip the keys and escape. If that was the case, then she could very well be screaming in torment in the torture chamber, or abused by the guards, at that moment, while Logan was lying on a soft bed in a sunny room safe and sound.
No. It couldn't be. He had to keep telling himself that, keep himself angry, because if he didn't he'd crumble under the weight of guilt at what he'd left a young, defenseless girl alone to face. Her name was Jubilation Lee; but what had really happened, who and what had she been, how old was she…there were a thousand questions Logan suddenly wanted answers to, and hewould probablynever know them. And the guilt of having left her, when he could have saved her and maybe paid the life-debt he owed her…but he didn't really owe her a life-debt to her, did he? He'd sworn the life-debt to a boy named Lee, not to a girl named Jubilee. He was absolved of that guilt. He didn't owe her anything.
So why did he feel so damn rotten?
Vincet wandered out to the stables and spent some time with Logan's horse, washing the white patches out of his coat. The King had decided to give Logan one of the Lord of Argonne's racing horses; the horse was lighter-bodied than Logan's warhorse, and would make better time, in addition to being faster. He could also leap fences and ditches, and that would be an advantage if Logan had to flee across country from ambushers. The big, battle-trained warhorse would stay here.
What had happened to Jubilee? Logan was being awfully close-mouthed, and Vincet was willing to bet that Logan had found out about the 'boy's' true identity. But if he'd found out Lee was really Jubilee, then why in the name of all the saints hadn't he brought the girl with him when he fled Gallas's fortress? Why had Logan left her there? He had sworn life-debt to the girl; the fact that her gender had changed wouldn't, and shouldn't, matter. And even if it did…common decency and common sense should have told Logan what would happen when he left. Jubilee would be tortured, and horribly, when Julian and Gallas found her there and Logan gone. Julian could be sadistic when he got angry. There was a tavern wench in the capital city who would walk with a limp forever because Julian had broken her leg one night in a fit of anger. The matter had been hushed up quickly, especially as the girl was plain and poor andhad no family to speak for her.
Vincet had heard anger in Logan's voice when he spoke of Jubilee. It wasn't obvious to someone who didn't know him well, like the King and the Weaponsmaster, but Vincet had spent a lot of the trip on the way to Argonne making friends with Jubilee and Logan. He could hear the anger, but however angry Logan was with her for the deception, she didn't deserve to be paid back with as much pain as she was most likely enduring now. Unbidden, Vincet's mind played out all the possible things that could be done to a woman who'd gotten on the wrong side of a man who had access to a torture chamber, and they were all gruesome, horrendous possibilities. The girl wouldn't survive them long, not with her sanity intact. And her body was probably violated already. He was willing to bet Julian had her under him before Logan had even escaped.
The thought madeVincet shudder. He finished with the horse and hurried back inside, intending to speak to Logan, but was intercepted by the Healer at Logan's room door. "He's sleeping and shouldn't be disturbed," the short, balding man said apologetically. "However, His Majesty asked me to inform you to report to his rooms before you retired for the night." It was drawing on toward sunset, Vincet noted with surprise. Where had the day gone?
"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" he said as he opened the door.
The King was sitting wearily by the desk. "You used to serve in the Guard," he said. "Are there any posts between here and the castle by the most direct route?"
Vincet slid into the chair Richard indicated. "There are four," he said. "All within a day or so's hard ride from each other. Why, Your Majesty?"
"I am worried," Richard confessed. "I am worried about Renee, and what may be happening even as we speak. I would hope she would wait for confirmation of my death before trusting simply in a message, but I am not sure that such a thing would happen. So I'm trying to arrange the fastest way to the castle, and Renee, for Sir Logan. He's going to have to ride hard all the way, and if I know him, he won't want to rest. If he starts from here at a gallop on Lord Argonne's racer, how soon will he reach one of the Guard posts?"
"If he leaves tomorrow night, at the horse's top speed he'll be able to reach the first post by the next at noon. Mid afternoon at the latest," Vincet said thoughtfully. "Then they give him a fresh horse, and he could reach the second post by evening of the third day. He'll overnight there, get fresh horse at morning, and he'll reach the next post at noon on the fourth day. He'll get his last horse there, and with a stop of about seven hours for rest, he should be at the post in the city by noon. Then from there it's all city streets until he reaches the palace. He should reach the Queen at sunset on the fifth day." Vincet didn't tell the King that Logan was likely to skip the rests and ride all night. If the man did that, he'd be at the castle in four days, if he didn't run into ambushers on the way.
"So he should reach Renee in five days at the most?"
Vincet nodded. "Logan will run the horse into foundering if he has to, your Majesty, and himself as well if he has to. Five days is a conservative estimate; I think he'll make better time than that."
"So be it." King Richard sighed tiredly. "We'll decamp the morning after he leaves. With all these people following me, we'll probably be at the castle eight days from now. It's as good as we're going to be able to do."
Vincet nodded.
Logan woke to see the room darkening with twilight. For a moment he was tempted to slip back into sleep, the ache in his body soothed by the comfort of the bed under him, but a sense of urgency drove him out of the comfort of the bed and pulled on the rough brown homespun clothing that someone had already found for him. Opening the door carefully, he checked the hall. There was no one there. The Healer must be taking this opportunity to sleep.
He slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly, and hurried down to the kitchens. Grabbing a hunk of bread and some cold meat left from the evening meal, he bolted it down quickly before the cook could catch him at it. Stuffing a little extra into a bag, as well as a skin of the stimulating morning tea, he headed outside.
And ran squarely into the King outside the stables.
Richard looked at Logan disapprovingly. "Sir Logan, you shouldn't be out of bed," he said. "You're going to have a lot of hard riding over the next few days. You should get your rest now."
Logan drew himself up. "Beggin' yer pardon, Yer Majesty, but we don't got time. I dunno how long ago Gallas sent a messenger ta the capital, an' whoever the traitor Duke is, so it's important that I get there 'fore he does. I can rest later. This is more important."
Richard faced him for a moment, and Logan braced himself to argue more…and then Richard capitulated. "As much as I would like to order you back to bed, I don't think you would go," Richard said at last. "And I am worried about Renee. Sir Logan…would you tell her…that I love her, and I miss her? And that if it comes down to violence, I would rather lose my throne and my kingdom than her, so she is to keep herself safe."
Logan felt a lump rise in his throat. He'd been so busy worrying about what had happened to him that he hadn't thought about the King. For all his royalty, Richard was still only a man worried about his wife. He went to one knee before the king. "I'll give her the message, Yer Majesty," he said seriously.
The King sighed. "Here." He slipped a ring from his finger, a heavy gold signet with the royal seal on it. "I was going to arrange for you to have guard horses at each guard post, but if you're going to take off earlier, there might not be time to make sure there is one. Take this. Whoever you require help from, show them the signet and tell them you are on an urgent errand for the King. They should give you whatever you require; if they don't they will be punished later."
Logan took the ring and slipped it on the thong around his neck that carried the Queen's ring. "I shall use it well, Yer Majesty, an' I'll return it to ya when I see ya." He got up and headed into the stables.
"Not your horse," Richard said. "The Lord whose keep this was had a small string of fast hunting and racing horses. You'll be taking his fastest hunter, and the lightest saddle. With him so lightly-burdened, you'll travel faster."
Logan quickly saddled the horse, and bowed to the King before springing into the saddle. "Thank you, Yer Majesty," he said formally, tying his tiny food pack to the saddle horn. "I'll see ya again when ya reach the capital."
"Go well," Richard said quietly, watching the knight on the horse speed off into the dark night.
Go well, Logan thought as he sped down the road. Well, we're going well so far.
He'd reached the first guard post at dusk the evening after he'd left Argonne Keep behind. So far, there were no ambushers or bandits waiting on the road. He breathed a sigh of relief as he came in sight of the Guard post.
The Guard served as the lawgivers and policed a small group of town. There was usually one Guard post to each ten towns, and they made it a point to keep fast horses at each post so that if an emergency arose the members of the Guard could get to the scene quickly. Logan had always been a little huffy about these horses; they weren't bred for anything but speed and stamina. Intelligence, which was what a Knight looked for first, was in short supply among these Guard horses.
But he was grateful for that speed and stamina now. The lord's hunting horse had been small and fast, but hadn't much in the way of stamina. Every five minutes he had to stop and let the horse walk.
This horse was fast, and he'd been almost flat-out galloping the last three miles. And he still had some left to give. Logan squinted at the sun. They had told him that the next Guard post was a day and a half ahead of him; at the pace the horse was traveling, they might make it in a day. He'd spent as little time sleeping as he could, asking the Guard to wake him only four hours after he'd ridden in. When they woke him he'd dragged himself back in the saddle, bolted the food they'd given him while on horseback, and settled in to a long ride.
The hair prickled on the back of his neck, and he slowed the horse, paying attention to that special sense that told him he was being watched. He let the horse drop to a walk, heaving, and pretended to fumble with his food pack while he surreptitiously scanned the surrounding forest. And the road in front of him. The surface of the road was too hard-packed to show signs of hoof prints, but the grass to one side was a little trampled where a group of riders had turned off the road and headed into a thick copse of trees up ahead.
He fumbled with the water skin hanging from his belt, not because he was thirsty, but because his hands were close to his sword there. His movements were deliberately casual, and to anyone who didn't know him, he was completely relaxed. A deliberate draw.
The trees he'd had his eye on exploded outward, and a group of three--no, four, he corrected himself—lightly-armed bandits came charging at him. It was only a half-second from his water skin to his sword hilt, and then bright steel flashed out. He wheeled the horse grimly. He was hoping his peasant garb might hide him, but these men had guessed who he was and what his errand was. And they had been waiting for something like this.Two of them suddenly rode at him, their swords out and extended. They looked like they were going to try and sweep him from the horse's back on the edge of their sword blades. It would be easy, once he was on the ground, for them to finish him off.
So. Don't hit the ground. That was easy. It would have been so easy, to just put spur to the horse and run to the guard post, but Logan stopped and turned to fight. It went against his training as a knight to leave an enemy behind. Besides, he was on the King's business. If these people knew who he was among the other people who had passed along this road, then they surely knew what business he was on. Either these were Gallas's people, sneaked across the border to murder him; or these were traitors to the King, paid to murder him. Both offenses of which were punishable by death or exile. Since it didn't look like they were likely to turn around and ride off, it would be death then. He was a knight; he killed, but he didn't enjoy it. It was a necessity, and one he regretted.
He swung his sword at one brigand, experimentally, trying to gauge how experienced the man was. Not very, apparently; he just barely dodged the swinging blade. The man yelled to his companions, "Hell's fire, men, he's a knight! They told us Richard'd send a page!" That told Logan more about his opponents than anything else. These men had been hired to kill the King's messenger; and that his guess was correct, they had been expecting to ambush a page, not a full knight, experienced in battle. He wheeled his horse and galloped straight at the man who'd yelled. The man misjudged how fast Logan's horse was, and Logan was on him before he could turn and run. A single stab to the chest, his sharp blade passing easily through the hardened leather 'armour' the man wore, and the man was dead.
Two of the other men ran toward Logan, waving their swords and yelling. Logan almost snorted. Amateurs, certainly; no one with experience. He'd learned long ago to save your breath in a battle, not to waste it in foolish yelling. He feinted toward the second man's left side with his sword, and when the man parried toward the incoming blow, Logan changed direction suddenly and ran him through from the left. Without bothering, he swung outward, ripping the blade from the dying man's belly, and swinging it in an arc as he neatly sliced the head from the third man.
The fourth man wore a battered helm made of boiled leather, and carried a short sword.Logan turned toward him, sword raised, but the man dropped his sword and held his hands up, shaking. Logan pointed with his sword. "Off with the helmet," he growled.
The man reached up and lifted the helmet off, and Logan swallowed as he realized the 'man' was no more than a boy. Probably about seventeen, if that old. Not much older. "Wanna live?" Logan growled.
The boy nodded his tousled black curls frantically. "Yeah. I wanna live. Please, sir knight, I don't wanna die. I'll go, I swear I'll go, I don't wanna die…"
Logan swallowed hard." Who hired you?" he jerked his headat the men lying in heaps around them.
The boy shook his head, his voice rising pleadingly. "Please, Sir Knight,I don't know," he gulped apprehensively."That man there, was my cousin...said he'd gotten an offer of money for an errand; I didn't know the errand was gonna be assassination, an'I don't know where he got the money..please, you have to believe me..." Tears welled upin his eyes, and Logan swore to himself.The boy had blue eyes. Not the bright turquoise Jubilee had, but they were still blue. "Get on, then," he said gruffly. "But if I catch ya followin' me, ya ain't gonna see another sunrise. Got me?"
The boy nodded jerkily, staring with wide eyes at Logan's sword. "I swear. I promise. I'm sorry, Sir Knight…"
Logan swore. "Git on outta here, kid." The kid turned and fled.
He dismounted and dragged the three bodies into the copse of trees, rifling them for identification. Nothing noticeable, but in one man's pocket he saw a handkerchief with a family crest embroidered on it. He squinted at the symbol, trying to remember where he'd seen that raven with a spear and a shield before.
Jubilee's sword. Logan shuddered. Why would this man be carrying something with that symbol on it…unless this man, with the stubbly blond beard and long legs was the one who had killed Jubilee's parents and torched the town! That must be it. Logan couldn't remember if the kid had ever mentioned what the murderer looked like, but this man could easily have been the one.
He shoved the handkerchief in his pocket almost absently as he stood and remounted. If this man was employed by Duke Gilbert, was the Duke the traitor? But Gilbert came from a family with a long history of being trusted by the reigning monarchs. Gilbert's father had supported King Richard's bid for the throne over the claims of Prince John; and when Richard had gone off to join the Crusades Gilbert had supported him with money and his finest horses. If Richard couldn't trust Gilbert, then who could he trust?
First things first, Logan sighed, putting the question of the duke from his mind. Get to the Guard post first, and get to the Castle to warn the Queen. It'll be quite soon enough to start looking for the traitor after Richard is back in his castle.
He rode on.