Redemption

Conn replied, pointing down at the valley floor. Man and beast still moved; hooves kicked and hands raised in silent calls for help as their owners slipped ever closer to death. 'Put them out of their misery,' he said, 'and then salvage what weapons and provisions you can.'

  Conn watched Spen walk away, but when he had reached no more than ten yards from where he was standing he called after him.

  'And when you've done that,' he said, 'tell the men to get these bloody uniforms off.' He unbuttoned the fastenings of his own before calling out again. 'They stink, and we look no more like soldiers of the Empire in these things, than my old mum, God rest her soul.'

  6

  The Twenty-First Day of Midspring,

  Imperial Year 2332

  In the years that Winterburne had been away even the land seemed to have changed to the point where he could not recognise how far along his journey he had travelled. The heavily wooded forest appeared to be thicker, darker and more foreboding than he remembered from the last time he had passed this road. The streams babbled more, and ran louder, the bird life sounded more raucous. Perhaps it was just his paranoia reflecting itself in all the things around him where really there was nothing, he thought. Or, perhaps, the tensions and the arguments really were building throughout the Empire, even to the point where nature reflected them.

  There was something else that had been making him feel uneasy, though, and it was not an act of nature's doing. It was the fact that he knew that he was being tracked. He could sense it. Whoever the men were, they had been following him for some time, at least for the last ten miles, perhaps more, but they were good. There were several of them, but he could not be sure of quite how many. At one stage, he even thought he had glimpsed a horse and rider, dark in the shadow and buried deep within the trees, to his left, and away in the distance. But, if they had been there they must have realised their error quickly, and now they were gone, cloaked by the foliage and thick trunks that formed a wall of protection.

  If his reckoning was right, he was probably another half a day from the edges of the Winterburne estate and he truly hoped that he could make it soon enough to gain some protection from his own men. And when he called them his own men, they truly were his this time, not borrowed from an Imperial establishment that was no longer his concern. But, he suspected, he wouldn't be that lucky. His assailants were likely to make their move well before that ever came to pass.

  A river, not much wider than a brook, marked the borders of his land. A man could jump it easily on horseback at its narrowest point, but nonetheless it was a clear boundary and in his mind a good target to aim for. He would not reach it for another hour or two at the most but they would make their move near that river, he felt sure, before the forest fell away completely and the grasslands took over. His men should be patrolling along the edge of the boundary, or at least they would be if things had not changed, and if he could at least get that far he might have some chance of being safe.

  Winterburne pushed his horse on. The morning sun provided welcome warmth on his back and at any other time it would be pleasant but right now he could not enjoy it. The farther he went, the more nervous he found himself becoming and he realised that inside he was counting down the time. The trees were slowly thinning out too, he noticed, and the road widened from a worn path but it was still little more than a well used dirt track, albeit one which had been travelled for generations as people had come and gone. The track was deeply rutted in places where recent rain had collected, dry now, but nonetheless ready to snare an unwary carter.

  Uneasy time passed and the day drew on. There they were again, he saw, in the woods away to his left. They seemed not to care that he could see them now, their brazen behaviour had become more confident, and it was almost as if they were taunting him. There were at least four that he could see, and possibly several more that he couldn't. The closer to home he had travelled, the more threatening they seemed to become in their behaviour and he prepared for their attack. It couldn't be long, surely.

  He reached a clearing, the late spring flowers still in bloom and spreading across the whole of the grassy land. The bluebells and snow-horns lay across the meadow in a blue and white carpet that at any other time would have been a magical sight, but it now only served to remind him how close he was to home, and also how far. And then it came. The six horseman broke from the trees, galloping their mounts across the grassland, thundering closer until they had him surrounded, but even now they still kept some distance. They eyed him up from beneath their leather helmets, seeming to weigh up his threat and then slowly they pulled their ring around him tighter and tighter. There was little point in his trying to outrun them. Even if he could break clear, it was very likely that one of the men would be able to hit their target with the bow that each carried, slung around the neck of their horse. The, one of the men, wearing a cured leather-armour breastplate and the eldest, possibly in his mid-twenties, Winterburne guessed, broke from the ring and rode closer.

  'What's your bus'ness stranger?' the man asked.

  He was well armed, and along with the other men, wore leather armour and a bow that was slung across his back. In a sheath, hanging from his horse's saddle, was his sword. It rattled with menace as he came closer.

  'Whatever it is,' Winterburne replied, 'it's my own.'

  ''S that right?' the man said, laughing and looking around at his companions. 'I reckon that the six of us have your measure, and that gives us the right to know on any given day, I would say.'

  'I figure that whatever I say isn't going to stop you from doing whatever you have planned.'

  Winterburne knew he would stand no chance if it came to a fight. These were most likely trained men, but deep down he still hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

  'And who says that we have anything planned?' the man said. 'I ask again. What's your business? And mind your tongue, for the answer you give may have a bearing on how long the rest of your life lasts.'

  'A big threat, indeed.' Winterburne wondered whether the young man's words truly did reflect his abilities. If so, it would certainly explain his confidence.

  'I need not make any threats, stranger. We are more in number, and better armed. Even a fool could see that it would be better to cooperate.'

  Winterburne was curious now. He had expected a swift attack, and one of deadly force, and he certainly did not expect a war of words with the leader of the group, instead expecting to draw steel to fight for his life.

  'And what if I don't cooperate?' he said.

  'Then you may come to realise that you had made an unwise choice,' the man replied. 'For the last time. State your business.'

  Reluctantly, Winterburne could see that to learn more of the man's motives he might have to play along, so he said, 'I travel to the Winterburne estate.'

  The rider looked Winterburne up and down, but still made no attempt to draw a weapon, and neither did the other horsemen.

  'And what is your business there?' the man said.

  Winterburne was now keen to explore this situation further. Why had they not tried to rob him already? They had had any number of opportunities, but even now they seemed curious themselves.

  'I intend to speak with Lady Winterburne,' he said.

  The men around him laughed as they heard the words, and once they had finished looking at each other the first man said, 'What makes you think that Her Ladyship would even consider seeing a road-dog like you?' He turned up his nose as he spoke the words, clearly disgusted at the suggestion.

  'Because,' Winterburne smirked to himself, 'I am her son.'

  All the men laughed again, but carried on riding. 'I've heard it all now,' the leader said, looking around his men. 'Whatever next?' He looked across at Winterburne. 'So, you are a son of Winterburne, you say.'

  'Indeed. For I am Lord Winterburne.'

  The group laughed again, the mood seeming to lighten a little. 'You certainly have a sense of humour, stranger,' the leader said, 'I'll grant you that.'


  'Now you know who I am, perhaps you would share your name with me,' Winterburne said. The smiles left the faces of the men now, and it seemed to him that he had crossed the line of acceptability in the minds of his assailants.

  'Now that is definitely none of your concern. In fact,' the rider replied, 'if I were you I would turn around, point your nag in the other direction, and keep going until you reach wherever it was that you came from.'

  'I don't think so,' Winterburne said. 'We should see what Lady Winterburne has to say on the matter.'

  'There is no need to bother Her Ladyship with such matters,' the man said, 'her Sergeant-at-arms will see to it.' He gestured up ahead.

  A rider approached, cantering his beast across the meadowland. It didn't take long for him to reach Winterburne, and he joined the group as it pulled up not far from the river, close to the stone bridge that marked the edge of his lands, and where he had often played as a boy, despite being told not to wander that far.

  'This road-dog says he has business with the Winterburne estate, Sergeant.' The young rider gestured towards Winterburne, and laughed.

  'Does he now?' The Sergeant joined in the laughter and walked his horse across to Winterburne. 'You can leave this to me now, Corporal,' the Sergeant said. 'Let me get his measure and then I can decide what's best to do with the scallywag.'

  He stopped his beast close enough for the two men to stare into each other's eyes for a moment, neither giving ground, and then the sergeant scowled. Winterburne scowled back.

  'He seems a wily old fox, alright,' the Sergeant said. 'I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. I have a mind to run the scoundrel back along the road from where he came.'

  'That was my feeling too,' the young leader of the group said.

  The group of riders behind him chuckled to themselves, while the sergeant walked his horse around the back of Winterburne's mount, circling him before returning to his front.

  Then, grins split both their stern looks and the Sergeant drew his horse close. He grabbed Winterburne's hand, and pulled him near as they hugged, almost unseating him from his horse, each patting the other on their back. Both Winterburne and the sergeant laughed together as they did so.

  'Thomas!' the Sergeant said. 'My word, it is good to see you again, and what an unexpected surprise. What the devil brings you this way, My Lord? Highport is a long way off.'

  'It is good to see you, too, Giles,' Winterburne replied.

  'Are you lost?'

  'No, my friend, I've come home for a while. I heard that you were well past your best and needed someone to remind you how to do your job properly.'

  'Ha!' the Sergeant said. 'Cheeky dog! You would have to travel many miles to find a better Sergeant-at-arms than me, my friend.'

  'Is that so?'

  The two men looked at each other warmly, and a moment of silence passed between them.

  Then, the Sergeant-at-arms said, 'Lady Winterburne will be pleased to see you. She has often spoken about you, even to the men.' The man turned in his saddle and looked at the young man. 'Corporal Gardiner,' he said, 'come here, if you would.' He waited as the young man walked his mount across to the pair of them. 'This is his Lordship, Thomas Winterburne, in all his glory. You had better take a good look at his ugly face, so that you don't make any more of a fool of yourself than you already have.'

  The young Corporal nodded his head in Winterburne's direction. 'My Lord!' he said. 'My apologies. If I had only known.'

  'No hard feelings, Corporal,' Winterburne said. 'I'm sure that you are not the first one to ever make such an error.'

  The Sergeant chuckled and looked over at the Corporal. 'Ride ahead,' he said, 'tell Her Ladyship that we have a long lost visitor to see her.'

  oOo

  Over the last few days, travelling the distance between the city and what was once his home, Winterburne had come to the definite conclusion that he had been living in Highport for far too long. Out here, under the sky, where the lands felt like they stretched for ever, and there were no walls to pen you in, the air smelled cleaner and lacked the unpleasant city odours that he had taken for granted, or in fact not even noticed. As much as he loved the smells and sounds of the harbour, this was different. For a start, it was his land, but it was more than that. It was pure, unspoilt, and somehow it seemed, as he listened to the birds and watched them swoop and whirl overhead, time almost passed more slowly and life felt simpler.

  The group of riders pushed their horses on, across the fields and meadows that made up his own domain. They had made good time, and the closer they came to the estate the more nervous he felt.

  'Why the hell didn't you send word that you were coming?' Sergeant Browne asked, after a while, splitting the silence between them.

  Winterburne looked across at the man. In all the years he had been gone, the man had changed little, and in truth they had always been good friends, growing up around the estate and getting into more scrapes than he cared to remember. It was hard to know how much to tell him, at least until after he had spoken to his family.

  'I didn't even know myself until almost a week ago,' he said. 'It was all a bit...sudden.'

  'Sudden?' Browne frowned. 'Why the hurry? What are you fleeing from?' Then his face brightened. 'It's a woman, isn't it?' he said. 'You've been bedding another man's wife and he's found you out! You old dog!'

  Winterburne laughed. 'No,' he said, 'it's not that.' He shook his head. 'It's worse, to be honest.'

  'Worse? What could possibly be worse than that?'

  Winterburne remained silent, staring ahead up the road as the horses picked their way along the track. The Sergeant, for now at least, seemed to respect his lack of detail but he knew that it would not be long before he opened his mouth again.

  Then Browne's face lit up. 'It's two women, isn't it? And they've found out about each other! Gods, Thomas, tell me we won't have two harridans turning up at the castle gates asking for your manhood presented to them on a platter!'

  'No,' Winterburne chuckled. He had missed the banter that passed between the two men over the years, and had forgotten how much he enjoyed the other's company. 'It's not that, but it is a story for another day. I'll tell you over a tankard or two, perhaps.'

  'Just like the good old days, eh?' Browne smiled, and winked at Winterburne.

  Winterburne smiled back. 'Yes, Giles,' he replied, 'just like the good old days.'

  The group rounded a bend in the road that led to the left and the trail widened as it approached a break in the tree-line. Then, almost without warning, Winterburne caught his first sight of the castle turrets in ten years, and his heart skipped. Through the gap in the trees, his own banner, white with a dark blue diagonal bar, flew in the breeze from the pole that had been installed on the tallest tower. He was home, and to cap it all, it was just as if he had never been away.

  They passed the final stand of oak and birch trees and as they rode into the clearing he could now see the walls of the castle unobstructed. He had forgotten how impressive the battlemented main gates were, and it seemed that the old habits died hard, for the drawbridge was down, covering the gap across the dry moat, the chains relaxed, inviting the local people to come and go almost as they pleased. The Winterburne estate had never been a closed society and the Lords of the castle had always tried to make themselves part of the community. In his absence it seemed that his brother had kept up the old ways and that the lands had been well maintained.

  'The castle looks well, Giles,' Winterburne said.

  'Aye, it does,' the Sergeant replied. 'Lady Winterburne is a good steward, and her experience and gentle nature shows in all that she does. She taxes low, and always ensures that the tenants are provided for when times are hard. The townspeople think a lot of her I believe.'

  'That is good to hear,' Winterburne replied, and then it slowly dawned upon him that the words his friend had used did not seem quite right. 'Lady Winterburne?' he asked. 'You said, "Lady Winterburne is a good steward". So wha
t of Lord Robert?'

  The Sergeant lowered his head as they rode on, then, he turned towards Winterburne. 'I fear that he is not well, Thomas.'

  'Not well?' Winterburne frowned. 'How so?'

  'It is as if a blackness has descended over his mind, a malaise. It is almost as if he can no longer find the strength to face the world.' The Sergeant's face was pale and dark. 'It is sad to see.'

  'How long has he been like this?'

  'A few summers, in truth. Maybe two or three. He rarely leaves his room, and when he does, he is sullen and melancholy, barely saying anything to those tending him. I fear for him.'

  They spoke no more together as they continued down what had now widened to become a road. Stone chippings had been spread in places and dried, rutted, cart-tracks dug deep into the ground. Patches of straw and sawdust had been spread about, no doubt in the worst, wet days of the winter, but a habit that obviously continued into spring where the weather was more unpredictable and rain could come unannounced at any time. There were people in the fields, villagers, Winterburne assumed, and they looked up at the mounted men as they worked away in the fields of new growing maize that stretched away on either side. Browne waved a hand in their direction which was returned, accompanied by many a smiling face.

  As the men worked their way along the approach road to the castle, Winterburne could make out a lone figure standing at the gates - a woman. Her deep blue dress and white hair were easily seen, even from this distance, and his heart beat faster and harder in his chest.

  The horses reached the drawbridge and stopped. The woman hadn't taken her eyes off him since he had come into view, he knew, and he suddenly found himself feeling self conscious as he slipped his foot from the stirrup and climbed down from his mount.

  'I'll take your beast to the stables, My Lord,' Browne said, looking down at Winterburne. 'The squires will see to her needs.'

  Winterburne nodded at the man and flashed him a warm smile before turning back to look at the woman. Removing his gloves, he strode across the worn timbers of the bridge until he reached her, stretching out his hand to take hers and raising it to his lips, kissing her fingers gently.

  'My Lady,' he said, looking into her eyes, and adding his own to her already beaming smile, 'you look as young and as radiant as ever I remember.'

  Lady Winterburne pulled her hand away and held out her arms, inviting him into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and she squeezed hard as she pulled him close.

  'Thomas,' she said, 'after all this time, even though I have always treated you as my very own son, can you still not bring yourself to call me mother?'

  He pulled away from her a little, but still smiled. 'I am sorry...mother.'

  Even though he had grown to love her over the years that he had lived in