"He drew his sword? On the queen?"
Winifred looked at him in disbelief.
"Yes, and...she tried to, I don't know what...attack him or something...and he struck at her and...he killed her. He got her in the neck...she bled out rather quickly...I don't think it lasted more than a minute."
"But Morcant? He's a Knight of the Order!"
Copernicus shook his head. "Maybe so, but he's been conspiring with the Vikings."
"I always sensed that man was no good," said Rebecca darkly, staring into space.
"Can...can we see her?" asked Winifred, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"There's no time. Really. And it's not a sight you want to see."
Rebecca wrapped her arms around her.
"But - "
Winfred started to protest, but Copernicus cut her off.
"Tyrion's life is in great danger. Do you not understand? We are all in great danger. When the Vikings get here - and believe me, I saw them from the window not a quarter of an hour ago," he explained, glancing from one horrified woman to the other, "one of the first things they'll want to do is find young Master Tyrion and kill him."
"They wouldn't kill an infant...would they?" asked Winifred, clearly appalled.
"Aye. You see, for Vikings, an existing ruler must be deceased before another can replace him. Otherwise, the title of the new ruler is considered illegitimate. If the Vikings are determined to rule Carthal, they must first kill Gryndall and any male heirs. In this case, young Master Tyrion."
"Is Tyrion not safer here at the castle? Can't we fend them off?" asked Rebecca.
"No. The castle is already lost. Morcant, as I told you, has betrayed us. He is one of them and those Vikings may already be at the gates. The king and his knights are on the way - but I can't see them making it in time."
"And so...the castle is lost?"
"I'm afraid so," answered Copernicus gravely. "If not now, then in a matter of minutes."
Winifred moaned and began to rock her head back and forth. "This can't be happening..."
"It is happening, Winifred," said Copernicus, taking her by the shoulders. "Now, please. You need to go and get Tyrion and take him somewhere safe."
Rebecca nodded and gave the older maid's shoulder an encouraging massage.
"Listen to Copernicus, Winifred."
"Do you have somewhere you can take him?" the old man asked, steering her towards the doorway.
The woman nodded, her eyes red and puffy, her nose running. "Aye. To me cousin's...he and his wife live near the marsh...the most gentle people, they are."
"That'll do," said Copernicus, glad that he was finally getting somewhere. "I'm going to the stables to prepare the queen's horse for you, alright?"
Winifred nodded slowly as she stepped through the doorway. They stopped in the corridor as Copernicus turned to Rebecca.
"Rebecca."
"Yes?"
"I want you to get some food together for them. Some biscuits. Some ham. Some milk for the boy. It will be a bit of a journey and I don't want them to suffer any more than necessary. Can you do that?"
"Yes, Copernicus."
"Very well. Off with you then. Winifred, I shall meet you at the stables in five minutes. No more. Run. Alright?"
The maid wiped her eyes, her face growing hard. "Alright."
Winifred is holding baby Tyrion. They're sitting on the queen's horse. Winifred is holding the reins with one hand and baby Tyrion with the other. They're walking through a northern section of the Great Wood. It's growing dark and what little sunlight remains is unable to penetrate the thick tree tops. There is only a trail. Owls hoot in the distance and eyes seem to peer out at them from the dense brush.
"There, there, child. Hush now. Don't cry."
Scared. Eyes wide with fear. Winifred pressed young Tyrion more tightly to her chest.
In the distance, an owl hooted.
The maid glanced up. Tyrion began to whimper.
Her eyes probed the darkness and she switched her gaze from tree to tree, hoping and praying that all the mysterious beasts and creatures of the Great Wood were really only true in fairy tales.
The horse picked its way slowly along the moss-covered trail. She hoped they would reach their destination soon.
Somewhere in the Great Wood. Gryndall and more than eighty riders are thundering along the road. It's only the afternoon, but already the light has gotten dimmer and the air has gotten colder.
Gryndall, Donal, Muirfinn, Conan plus a dozen more knights. Fifty-five militiamen. Twenty men from Brinsley and Lancaster.
All armed with swords and spears and maces and bows and riding hard for Clarendon.
A thousand thoughts swirled through Gryndall's mind.
Were they too late? Had the castle fallen? What had the Vikings done to Ygraine and Tyrion and Lionel and Copernicus?
He didn't want to think about it.
Vikings were notorious for committing foul deeds against women and children.
Pigeons had been sent to every city in Carthal. Even to Lindisfarne.
He'd asked for help. He'd ask for every man and boy over the age of sixteen, capable of using a sword, to descend upon Clarendon and to rid the Carthalian capital of the Viking invaders.
Though none of that would matter if they were already too late...
The Vikings have seized the castle and begun their raping and pillaging. Inside the castle, in the Great Hall, a contingent of Vikings line the walls, chomping happily on roast chicken and pastries and melons. They're watching the scene that's unfolding in the centre of the Hall: Morcant is strapped to a table, surrounded and held down by four large and menacing-looking Vikings. The knight's shirt has been torn open, exposing his chest. He's got fear in his eyes and a look of desperation on his face. Anwir has just removed a hot iron from the stove. (The wood-burning, cast-iron stove sits at the centre of the Great Hall and is used for keeping meals warm during feasts.) Standing a few feet away are Erik the Bald, Lionel, and the two Vikings holding him.
"YOU IDIOT!" Anwir roared as he pressed the scalding hot iron to Morcant's exposed chest.
There came a sizzling sound, followed by the terrible smell of burning flesh.
The knight screamed and began to kick, arms flailing, as the four big Vikings around him tightened their hold on him.
"Your Worship!" Morcant shrieked. "Please! I beg you! I didn't mean to kill her! It was an accident! I swear!"
Anwir shook his head as he placed the tip of the iron back into the stove to reheat.
"Accident or not, you killed the queen and let the maid escape with the child! We have nothing left now to bargain with!"
Morcant shook his head, his eyes dancing in their sockets as he searched the faces of those around him. There had to be someone that could help him plead his case.
"Copernicus! Get Copernicus! He'll tell you! It was an accident!"
Anwir scoffed. "That old man?"
Morcant nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes! Copernicus! Ask him!"
The night looked at Lionel - the only other member of the castle Court present - willing him to do something. But Lionel was frozen with fear and stood, statue-like between his two handlers, looking as though he might faint.
Anwir followed Morcant's gaze and his eyes settled on the young man.
His turn would come.
Lionel gulped. Sweat on his forehead, his face, chalk white.
Anwir returned his attention to Morcant. "That is not an option, I'm afraid."
The iron was ready once more and he pulled it slowly from the red hot embers, his hand swaddled in a strip of fabric to prevent him from being burned.
"Please...no...Anwir...my friend...my master...it was an accident. Please. Use the boy. Use the boy to bargain with - "
"NO!" Anwir roared, his voice echoing through the Great Hall.
Morcant screamed.
"You killed the queen! The child is gone!"
Anwir pressed the h
ot iron to the knight's exposed flesh a second time.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"They were my bargaining chips! Now I have nothing! You've made this endeavour a thousand times more difficult! Gryndall has no incentive to surrender his crown now!"
He strained as he pressed the iron harder against Morcant's chest and raised his voice to be heard above the knight's screams.
"The old man means little to him. With his wife dead and child gone, he's got nothing to live for. No reason to lay down his arms and surrender. He'll wage war against us!"
The heat from the iron must have dissipated - or Morcant had now grown numb - because he stopped screaming.
"You can pretend, your Worship! You can pretend! Say that the queen is alive! Say that the child is here!"
Anwir was about to strike the man for saying something so foolish, but he stopped himself.
Could something so simple actually work?
He removed the iron and stuck it back into the stove before turning to look at Erik the Bald.
What did he think of the idea?
The Viking jarl shrugged, his expression suggesting he was only mildly amused by Morcant's torture. He'd clearly seen - and probably done - much worse.
The priest let his eyes settle once more on Morcant.
Perhaps the incompetent knight wasn't so useless after all.
He could most certainly tell Gryndall that the queen was still alive and that young Tyrion was with her.
Still, that didn't change the fact that Morcant had completely failed him. Future leaders could not allow such imbeciles to cling to their robes. Not to mention that he sorely would have liked to have seen the look on Ygraine's face when he seized the castle. Now he would never have that chance.
With angry eyes and a stony expression, Anwir removed the iron spike from the stove and raised it above his head. He could hear the Vikings lining the walls of the Great Hall murmuring amongst themselves. Some of them laughed. Others had more serious tones to their voices.
Morcant resumed screaming as he realized what Anwir was about to do. But it didn't last long.
In an instant, the priest brought his arms crashing down and he buried the iron spike into the knight's chest.
Copernicus' study. He's seated at his desk. The late afternoon light streams in through the curtains. There are skulls in the window sill with candles in them, the wicks and wax burned down halfway. There are hundreds of leather bound books lining the shelves and walls. Anwir and Erik the Bald burst in.
"Old man."
Copernicus looked up as Anwir, followed by Erik the Bald, entered his chamber.
"It is my understanding that there are tunnels beneath this castle that bring one to the Great Wood."
Copernicus set down his pen and cleared his throat to conceal his nervousness.
"I'm not sure what you mean."
Anwir bristled and put an arm on the desk, thrusting his face towards Copernicus.
"Don't toy with me, old man. I've treated you well, have I not? I've not harmed you. You are free to sit here in this...chamber of yours," he said, turning his nose up at the sight of all the decaying books and cobwebs.
"But be assured that if you do not cooperate, your privileges will be revoked."
Copernicus felt his conscience weighing on him.
Did he tell Anwir about the tunnels? What if Gryndall planned to use them to gain access to the castle when he arrived? The tunnels would be his best option - if not the only option.
But then, Ygraine was dead and Winifred had taken Tyrion. There was nothing to fight for and entering the castle would be sheer folly with four hundred Vikings milling about. And Anwir planned to tell Gryndall - whenever he arrived - that Ygraine, Tyrion, and Lionel were all well and safe. This would surely make Gryndall try to take back the castle. However, if he did so, the Vikings, with their superior numbers, would surely capture and kill him. The only solution therefore was to warn Gryndall of Anwir's deception.
But the priest had forbade all pigeons from leaving the castle.
He'd already checked the pigeon room in the tower and two large Vikings guarded the front door.
He would have to send a message. Perhaps Aidan, the stable boy. He could send him through the tunnels to the Great Wood to wait for Gryndall. Gryndall would surely arrive by nightfall.
He'd have Aidan tell Gryndall the situation. It would destroy that man to hear that his beloved wife was dead, but it would save him from running headlong into a death trap.
The tunnels would have to remain a secret.
But...then...Anwir would badger (and torture if need be) every member of the Court and every peasant imprisoned within the castle walls until he had the information he wanted. And he would get it. And once he'd gotten it, he would surely seek to take advangate of it.
Refusing to give Anwir the information he wanted, now, would only result in his being thrown in the dungeon - and then he would be of no help to anyone.
He should therefore give Anwir the information, but before the priest got the chance to make use of the tunnels, send Aidan through. Aidan was a fast runner and he could surely make it to the Great Wood and find a place to hide out while waiting for Gryndall.
Anwir's voice brought him rudely back to the present.
"Old man. Your silence suggests to me that there is something you're not telling me. Are there tunnels beneath this castle?"
Copernicus nodded. There was no going back now.
"There are."
He refused to add "your Worship".
The priest didn't seem to mind. Instead, he smiled.
"Oh? And will you show me where they are and tell me where they lead? So that I know you aren't just being clever and trying to get me or my men trapped somewhere."
Copernicus shook his head. "I will."
Anwir stood upright. He looked at Erik the Bald.
"See? That wasn't so hard," he said in Norse. "Once you show the people what you're capable of (he was clearly referring to his treatment of Morcant), they become most helpful. That's something Gryndall never understood," he added in Carthalian, his tone dark, as he returned his attention to Copernicus.
"So where are they then? How do we get to them?"
There were two entrances. He only planned to show Anwir one. The other, he would use to send Aidan to deliver his message to the king.
"In the cellar."
Anwir smiled. "How...inventive."
Copernicus shrugged. "So long as they provide their purpose."
"Which is?"
"They lead to the Great Wood."
Anwir's expression grew thoughtful and Copernicus suddenly wished he could read minds. What was the priest planning?
"Very well. You've been most helpful, old man. Continue to be helpful and you shall continue to live. I see no need to kill you. You are knowledgeable and reasonably intelligent. A good source of information. I'll be watching you closely if and when Gryndall makes his grand appearance. Remain loyan and don't assist him, in any way, and you can live out your days reading and writing and doing whatever else it is that you do," he said, waving a hand at the enormous bookshelf that leaned against the back wall.
"But betray my trust, and you shall share Lionel's fate. Are we understood?"
Copernicus nodded.
As soon as they left he would have to hurry and find Aidan. There was no time to lose.
"I understand, your Worship."
Anwir smiled. "Very well. As you were."
He turned then, ushering Erik the Bald out the door, and Copernicus was once more alone in his chamber.
Still riding through the Great Wood, Winifred is holding Tyrion, whispering into his ear and humming softly to calm herself.
"There, there, little one. Everything's going to be alright. Just a little further. Winifred's got ye."
The maid, still clutching the young prince close to her breast, felt a tear slide down her cheek. She thought of Ygraine.
Poor Ygraine.
Poor, poor Ygraine.
Gone. Gone forever.
Another tear slid down her cheek.
How long would it be until she could return to Clarendon with Tyrion?
The trial of Lionel Galbraith, Ygraine's nephew. There's a raised platform in the centre of the courtyard. Lionel is locked in a stockade. Two Vikings stand guard, one on either side. Erik the Bald is seated in a chair a few feet away. Anwir is reading from a sheet of parchment.
"Lionel Galbraith. For breaking the vows you took as a Brother of the Cycliad and for abandoning your monastic community, your brethren, your flock, you are hereby sentenced to death."
Anwir's voice carried across the courtyard, penetrating every nook and cranny, every balcony, every alcove.
Men and women and children. Butchers and blacksmiths and shepherds. Peasants and courtiers. Vikings and Carthalians. There were nearly a thousand people gathered in the courtyard. Seated on hay bales. Hanging from flag staffs. Watching from rooftops.
"Keep moving boy," Copernicus growled. "You don't want to see this."
Aidan, the stable boy, had stopped momentarily to watch the proceedings.
"You don't want to witness any of it. Terrible stuff. Terrible, terrible stuff."
He pushed him forwards, towards the stables where they were headed.
That poor boy, Copernicus thought as they got moving again, past the throngs of the morbidly curious, milling about the courtyard and leaning against every wall, all anxious (and horrified) to see what would happen to the queen's young nephew.
It pained him deeply that he could do nothing. That he was powerless.
If only Gryndall were here...
His dour mood and the crushing guilt weighing on him made him desperate to thwart Anwir's plans to deceive Gryndall.
I may not be able to save the boy, but I can save the king.
They reached the stables a minute later, and squeezing through a line of people, hurried inside.
"Where inside the stables is this entrance to the tunn - "
"Quiet!" Copernicus hissed, checking over his shoulder to make sure none of the people outside had heard.
"This is secret. Keep it that way."
Aidan nodded solemnly and remained quiet as Copernicus lead him towards the last stall inside the stables. There was a hatch in the floor used to store food and supplies and Copernicus pushed the stable boy toward it.