CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: INTERROGATION.
Chief Wulfstan slid onto the bench's end, ladled vegetable stew over a plate piled with pig-meat, added a heel of bread, and thrust it in front of Neb.
'There you go lad,' he said, as he reached for a pitcher and poured a pale golden ale into a tankard, handed it to Neb, then reached again to pour a tankard for himself. Neb slurped his drink and then sipped. It tasted of liquid sunshine. Since his fellow diners conversed loudly with their mouths full, he tore into the food before him. The pig-meat juices ran down his chin and mellow turnip chunks mingled with fresh spring green vegetables. In between shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth, chewing and swallowing ravenously, Neb scowled at Samara, but she ignored him. She appeared engrossed in Romulus' long drawn out tale of griffins he had known. On Samara's other side, Lord Massant waited impatiently to get a word in sideways. I'll wager she won't call him a griffin riding fool, Neb thought, and glowered into his tankard.
The evening wore on, the beat of drums slowed and villagers began drifting back to their huts. Gradually, the benches lining the tables emptied. Neb became aware that the end table was silent; Samara smiled at him, while Romulus puffed with impatience.
'The maid insists that you're the best person to explain exactly what happened,' Lord Massant drawled. Samara bestowed another sweet smile on her audience, and then excused herself from the table. Chief Wulfstan rose to take a seat next to Lord Massant, who was flanked on his other side by Romulus. All three men folded their arms, placed their elbows on the table and lowered their brows in his direction. Wishing it was water instead, Neb gulped down the last of his ale, gathered his thoughts, and began.
He emphasised that Alfred was Kattin's unwilling assistant and speculated that he'd deliberately allowed Lillian to escape. He skipped over his own desertion, saying only that Eric had secretly followed him and had been gored by a rogue stag. Next he described the Black Robes' Cloister and how Father Thomas ruled with a rod of iron. Neb implied it was Alfred's suggestion that they walk over the hills and that he'd called to Balkind on a whim. He began to describe the dark ceremony and his throat dried up. Chief Wulfstan slid a tankard of water across the table to him.
'Take your time lad, don't be afraid, but make certain you tell us everything that happened,' he advised gently. Neb drank deeply and then nodded his thanks and continued. Despite Chief Wulfstan's advice, he skipped over Samara's marriage made in hell. Instead, in a hollow voice, he related the demon's demands: That Father Thomas expel Neb's spirit, leaving his body free to be possessed. Had they noticed the gap in his story? Chief Wulfstan shifted in his seat, Lord Massant's wry smile returned but this time didn't reach his eyes. A vein under Neb's jaw pulsed uncomfortably; he glanced at Romulus and then wished he hadn't. The Griffin Master's expression would have turned Medusa to stone. Neb gulped and massaged his throat. He hadn't lied, but neither had he been completely truthful.
I promised Samara, and it's too late now, he told himself, and hurried on.
Chief Wulfstan interrupted him. 'You disobeyed orders. That can be overlooked, we're all aware of what can happen when orders are followed blindly.' The Chief's next words electrified Neb. 'But when given the chance to explain yourself, you deliberately withheld information. In doing so, you lied to us.' The ground beneath Neb's feet tilted and he gripped the bench beneath him for balance. How did Chief Wulfstan know? Then he thought Lillian! Of course Lillian would have told her parents about Kattin's evil plan. He glanced across the table towards his three judges and his heart sank. The expressions of Romulus and Lord Massant were grim, Wulfstan's sorrowful. Feeling like a small child caught with his hand in the honey comb, Neb wanted to flee from the condemnation on his judges faces. Instead he swallowed hard a couple of times, lifted his chin and answered Chief Wulfstan.
'Sir, the matter of which you speak concerns a maiden's honour.' His throat tightened and he could say no more. Chief Wulfstan's stern expression softened and he nudged his cousin in law. Lord Massant shook his head, looked down at the table, and smiled.
'Right answer, wrong timing!' Romulus boomed.
Lord Massant spoke quietly. 'That was all you had to say, we are not ogres, and we too respect a maiden's honour. Now continue but mark my words well: only the truth entire will excuse you.'
Neb felt giddy with relief and thirstier than ever. He tried not to look at the silver tankards in front of his judges. He wanted to lick his lips, but what good would that do? His tongue was just as dry, although his palms were greasy with sweat.
But he no longer felt he was on trial and so with halting words, Neb continued. He described his out of body experience and how Samara had dashed hot wax over his feet to bring him to his senses. His listeners grimaced in sympathy. They scowled when the Black Robes held Neb in an arm lock for Father Thomas to slice open his throat. By the time Neb got to Balkind's appearance, they were leaning forwards and breathing heavily, completely enthralled. Romulus smiled grimly on hearing how Balkind had disposed of the demon. Chief Wulfstan cheered when Father Thomas was shaken by the griffin. They all frowned at Kattin's murderous actions. Finally Neb's voice trailed away. He gazed longingly at the tankard again.
The three men huddled their heads together and debated Neb's fate. But all Neb could think of was taking another swallow of water.
Finally it appeared they'd reached agreement. All three sat ramrod straight, clapped their elbows on the table and folded their arms again. Neb wondered if he should stand, then decided to remain seated. He didn't trust his legs.
Lord Massant spoke. 'Young man, you acted rashly. You disobeyed Griffin Master Romulus, Chief Wulfstan, and even my orders. It's only because of your griffin's devotion – '
'– disobedience' Romulus growled.
Lord Massant sucked in a breath and continued 'it's because of your griffin's actions that you survived.' He glanced towards Romulus, who scowled down at the table. Chief Wulfstan spoke next: 'The boy acted foolishly. Alfred and Kattin acted badly. Kattin has paid with her sanity; it seems Alfred has repaid his debts and chosen a voluntary exile,' he paused, and Neb nodded his agreement.
Neb waited for Romulus to speak. He forgot about his terrible thirst although the silence dragged on for eons.
Finally Lord Massant prompted: 'Griffin Master Romulus, may we hear your words?'
Neb clutched his hands between his legs and then sat on them in a bid to hide his tremors. He stared again at the silver tankard with unseeing eyes.
Chief Wulfstan tried: 'What say you, Griffin Master Romulus? Does the boy still have a place in your sanctuary as a griffin lad?
Romulus swivelled his head and fixed Chief Wulfstan with a stare of disbelief. He slapped his hand against the table; the tankards jolted and one overturned. Neb gazed at the spilled water as it trickled over the table's edge.
'Why would he want to be a griffin's lad, when he obviously thinks he knows better than me; the Griffin Master?!' Romulus growled and swivelled his head again to glare at Neb.
Although he'd been expecting this response, Neb's world crashed. He wanted to sink to the floor in a heap but he forced himself to stand and face the Griffin Master, thinking:
It doesn't matter about me, I knew I'd be punished, but Romulus has to forgive Balkind. Curling his hands into fists, he dug his fingernails into his palms and willed the words to come out in the right order. But his lungs couldn't suck in enough air to breathe properly, let alone allow him to speak. Then miraculously, an ozone laden breeze wafted over him and Samara stood at his side. Astonishingly, no-one objected to her presence. In fact, Romulus pointed at her: 'that lass there has more sense than you and your fool griffin put together!'
Neb shot Samara a sideways glance. A smile curled her lips and her eyes encouraged him to speak. Taking a deep breath, Neb blurted: 'Griffin Master Romulus, I accept your decision. But what of Balkind? Balkind –'
'– deserves his chance,' Romulus finished for him. 'You're like a dog with a bone. You're stubb
orn, disobedient and think you and your griffin can out-fly everyone and everything – including the sun!'
Neb frowned, thinking: I'm not, and I don't, but Balkind is special. Romulus jabbed a finger at him: 'I know exactly what you're thinking! But you're wrong – what's more Balkind is just as stubborn and disobedient as you – and if you think for one moment that I'd ever allow any of my noble young recruits to even sit on that brute's back – think again!'
Neb clutched at Samara's hand like a man going underwater for the third time. He wanted to shout This isn't fair – Balkind is blameless, but the words threatened to strangle him.
In any case, Romulus hadn't finished. 'The griffin has one last chance – on one condition.'
Neb opened and shut his mouth, but no sounds emerged so he nodded his head furiously: Name it.
'Balkind can stay, but only with you as his rider.'
Romulus watched his words sink in. It took a moment. Then Neb's blood tingled under his skin and urged him to dance. He stared at the Griffin Master's wolf like grin, waiting for Romulus to vanish in a puff of smoke or turn into a flying elephant or something equally impossible.
Lord Massant chuckled. 'You've got problems Rommey. Two of 'em.' Samara's hand clutched at Neb's. She exchanged amused glances with Chief Wulfstan who said 'Take my advice Rommey, recruit the girl instead.'
Romulus' face softened and lowering his voice to a gentle growl he said 'thank you for saving this young fool's life.'
Samara's dimples showed, 'I merely brought him to his senses.'
Romulus retorted: 'By pouring hot wax over him? Maybe I should try that with my recruits, heavens know they're a senseless bunch.'
Neb's own senses reeled – the Griffin Master had made a jest – hadn't he? Chief Wulfstan nodded towards Blain's hut. 'Off you go – get a good night's sleep. We have other matters to discuss.'
Lord Massant grimaced. 'Ah yes … we'll have to arrange a visit very soon to your man Alfred and this … Cloister.'
Samara's hand squeezed his, and Neb allowed her to lead him away. When he glanced down at her, he noticed that Samara had changed into trews and a tunic, and she was just a girl again. Outside Blain's old hut, he paused and took both her hands in his. Tilting back her head, Samara looked up at him with mocking eyes.
'What did Romulus say? "stubborn, disobedient and think you and your griffin can out-fly everyone." All the qualities of a Griffin Rider,' she teased.
Neb's blood ran hot and then cold – he hadn't even managed to thank the Griffin Master – his mind certainly couldn't find a retort for Samara. Instead he lowered his face to hers and kissed her.
When he finally entered Blain's hut, Neb peered through the gloom and saw that Harry had claimed the bed while Alexis sprawled across the easy chair. At least they'd thoughtfully arranged cushions and a blanket by the fire's hearth. After laying down and discovering the blanket would only reach to his chest, Neb fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
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