"Through there, boy. Open it."
Aidan shot him a quizzical glance.
Had the old man finally gone off his rocker?
"Open it," Copernicus repeated impatiently.
Without a word, Aidan knelt down and pulled open the heavy hatch in the floorboards.
"Good."
Pushing him aside, Copernicus descended into the darkness, the rickety steps shaking beneath his weight.
The lantern he carried showed the way and he stopped once he'd reached the bottom.
"Come on, boy," he growled, beckoning the stable boy.
Aidan descended and stopped beside him.
Copernicus thrust the lantern at him. "Take this."
Aidan took the lantern and waited patiently for his next instructions.
"Now...where is that switch..." Copernicus mumbled, moving towards the back of the cramped space and searching the wall in front of them.
Switch? A switch to open something? Aidan had never seen a switch in the space before. Just horse feed and buckets and a few spare rakes...
He watched intently as the old man scanned the wall, rubbing his hands over the bricks, probing the recesses with his fingers until finally there came a click and the wall - well - it had been a wall until a second ago - swung open.
He gaped at the opening and took a step towards it, shining the lantern into the darkness.
"There you are, my boy," said Copernicus proudly. "Now I want you to take this water flask and this bag of food," he slipped out of the leather straps around his shoulders and exchanged the two items for the lantern, "and go through the tunnel."
"Wait. What? You want me to go through there?"
"It is not that I simply want you to go through there," said Copernicus impatiently, "it is that you must go through there. Your king needs you. You need to tell him about Anwir's plan to deceive him and that Ygraine has been killed. Tell him Winifred took Tyrion to her cousin's near the marsh. Tell him not to agree to hear Anwir's terms or to anything that man tries to tell him as it will most certainly be a a lie, if not a trap. I want Gryndall to leave. Tell him I told you that he must go to every other city in Carthal and raise an army and return here only when he's got one thousand men behind him."
Aidan nodded, his face growing fearful at all the responsibility being heaped on his bony shoulders.
"I know this is a lot for you, boy, but you're the only one that I trust to get the job done. You're fast. You know the Wood. You need to hurry through the tunnel and as soon as you get to the Great Wood, look for Gryndall. When you find him, tell him that I am alive and well and that I shall send him regular updates on Anwir's activities and about what's going on in the castle. Tell him that I will send these letters via pigeon to the mayor of Darnfell."
Copernicus clapped an old, withered hand over the fourteen year old's shoulder. "Any questions? Do you know what you must do?"
Aidan gulped and nodded.
"Good. Now go - there's no time to waste. Come back as soon as you've found Gryndall and delivered the message. I don't want you getting caught up in any fighting that might occur."
"I shall."
"Off with you then," said Copernicus, pushing him through the doorway and handing him the lantern. "And good luck."
"Thank you."
The boy hurried off down the passageway and when Copernicus could no longer see the light from his lantern bobbing and bouncing off the walls, he turned, closed the door, and made his way back up the rickety set of stairs.
Back outside, he pushed past the people stopped in front of the stable doors. Their horrified expressions suggested Lionel had been executed.
Please let it be over already...
"The head of Lionel Galbraith will be put on a spike - "
Merlin's beard. What kind of animal is this so-called priest?
" - and put on display for all to see. May he serve as an example of what happens when you cross me, Anwir of Lindisfarne, High Priest and now ruler of Carthal."
Several hours later. Anwir is standing on the ramparts, watching the Great Wood - and the clearing that spans the space between the forest and the castle - for Gryndall. He feels somewhat confident and somewhat ill at ease.
"Anwir."
The priest turned to look at Erik the Bald as he waddled along the ramparts towards him."
"Are your men ready?"
The plain that stretched from the castle to the Great Wood was quiet. Calm. Still.
No sign of Gryndall yet.
The sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains. Pale pink light. Streaks of white cloud on a darkening blue sky.
"They're ready. But we need to re-negotiate the terms of our agreement."
Anwir's jaw tightened involuntarily. "What do you mean, re-negotiate the terms of our agreement?"
The fat Viking hocked a lump of snot over the ramparts and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
"Gryndall is no doubt on his way here with his famous knights. They are going to inflict some heavy damage on my army."
"We discussed this already," replied Anwir tersely. "Weeks ago."
This was the problem with having a boorish, unintelligent brute for an ally.
The jarl nodded passively, shrugged and stared into the distance with a somewhat bored expression on his face.
"Yes. We did. But now I'm telling you, the terms of our agreement need to be re-negotiated."
He was in no position to argue...
He needed the Vikings. But then, he'd given them those three favours. They'd made a great deal of gold.
Didn't they owe him now?
"What about all the gold I gave you?"
Erik the Bald sniffed and picked casually at something on his tunic. He was always doing that. Probably because he was such a slob and would get food all over himself. It annoyed him.
"We did the work, Anwir."
"I gave you those chests of gold! The ones Gryndall gave me. I gave them to you! Every last coin!"
The Viking looked amused. "Two hundred and fifty kroner. That would have bought you fifty men. I've provided you with an army of four hundred."
Anwir frowned. "You're getting the southern cities. Brinsley and Hawthorne. You can reap everything from Carthal and ship it to Vinland. Your trades will boom."
Erik the Bald shrugged. "It's not enough. For what I'm investing. I need more."
The priest stiffened. "How much more?"
"I want the castle."
"No! I...no. I'm get the castle. That was our agreement."
"You are welcome to stay at the castle anytime you like. But it shall be my domain."
His mind reeled. How could this be happening?
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Anwir! This is what you get for dealing with Vikings!
Patience. You're an intelligent man. You'll think of something. Once Gryndall has surrendered his crown and once whatever rebellions that spring up are put down and Carthal has fully capitulated, I can make a move on him.
Anwir glanced surreptitiously at Erik the Bald.
I can slip some poison into his ale. Send a whore to his room to bury a dagger in his back. Pay some peasant lad to push him down a flight of stairs. With Erik the Bald out of the way, the Viking army would disperse. Many of them would return home to Vinland. He was sure of that. Some would stay and take lands for their own. But as long as he got the castle - and held Clarendon - Carthal would be his.
He stole a second glance at Erik the Bald. The Viking's beady eyes were staring right back at him and Anwir knew he was imagining and plotting his death. He turned and set his gaze once more upon the landscape beyond the castle.
He would have to strike first.
Gryndall and his knights. It is late afternoon. Supper hour. Twilight.
"My Lord. We're getting close."
"I'm aware of that, Donal."
"We can't be more than five miles away."
"I realize that."
"Our king knows what he's doing," Dalwynn grow
led as their armed contingent of riders sped relentlessly forwards, the thunderous sounds of their horses' hooves echoing through the trees.
Donal ignored the larger knight's remark.
"My Lord," he continued, "they may be expecting us. Everything else has been so calculated. They could easily be planning an ambush. And bottlenecked here on this road, we'd be cut down like dogs."
"Oh, would you shut your mouth already!" Dalwynn complained.
"No," said Gryndall. "Donal's right. The Vikings could be planning an ambush."
He slowed his horse and the others followed suit.
"Muirfinn! Conan! Junius!"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Here, my Lord."
At the sound of their names, the three knights drew up alongside Gryndall, Dalwynn, and Donal.
"You'll come with us to scout out the final stretch," said Gryndall. "The rest of you," he said, turning to face the rear guard. "Stop here. Prepare your weapons. Prepare your armour. We don't know what awaits us ahead. Wait here and if you hear my horn, charge."
"Aye, aye, my Lord."
"Yes, my Lord."
Similar replies came from the eighty-man column of knights, militiamen and volunteers.
"Very well."
Turning his horse back around, Gryndall cracked his reins - gently - and he and the knights surrounding him set off at a brisk trot.
Donal drew his bow and notched two arrows. Dalwynn pulled his sword from its sheath. The weapon made a metallic, sliding sound and it gleamed in the light from Junius' torch.
The others, Gryndall included, scanned the trees for signs of Vikings.
"It'll be pitch black in a half an hour," Donal whispered. "Not the best time to launch an attack."
"That depends, I guess," Gryndall countered. "We need to exploit every advantage we can. Low light means less visibility for them as well."
"Quite right. Kill that torch, Junius."
"Yes, my Lord."
The knight wrapped a corner of his cloak over the head of the torch, extinguishing the flame.
Their horses trotted on silently, with purpose, seeming almost to sense from the urgency in their riders' voices that trouble might lie ahead.
"I still can't believe that Vikings might have seized the castle. They're completely stupid in land warfare and to orchestrate such a careful operation..." Donal's voice trailed off as they rounded a bend in the road.
He knew it was just two miles now to the edge of the Great Wood. Soon, the castle would come into view.
"My Lord, do you think perhaps - "
The loud and sudden snap of a branch echoed throughout the forest and all six of them yanked on their horses' reins.
"PROTECT THE KING!" Dalwynn roared as his horse reared ups on its hind legs, his booming voice oddly out of place to the silent, darkening forest.
"WHO GOES THERE? SHOW YOURSELVES!"
Gryndall reached for the horn around his neck and was about to put it to his lips when Aidan stumbled out from the trees and onto the road.
"Aidan! Damn it, boy!" Just what do you think you're playing at!? Do you know there are Vikings about!?"
Six angry faces glared down at the boy.
"My Lord...I'm sorry...I'm really sorry, but Copernicus - "
"What's happened?" Gryndall snapped. "Is he alright?"
Aidan nodded solemnly. "He's fine. He sent me to warn you. Anwir. The priest. He's going to deceive you. Do not believe him. Do not agree to whatever terms he - "
"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a minute. Anwir? The High Priest of Lindisfarne?"
The boy nodded quickly and the men exchanged curious glances.
"I don't believe. What's he got to do with it?"
"He's one of them, my Lord. He's allied with the Vikings."
"That whoreson."
Dalwynn spat.
Grnydall looked horrified.
"Anwir..."
"And...there's more, my Lord."
"Go on."
The boy was shaking now, unsure how to proceed.
"Have they taken the castle?"
"They have."
"And how many are there? How many men have they got?"
"At least four hundred, my Lord."
"Four hundred? Blimey!"
"Four hundred..."
Aidan nodded, swallowing nervously as he looked up at them.
"Very well," said Gryndall severely. "And what of the others? My wife? Tyrion? How are they?"
The stable boy looked at the king with fear.
"Go on. What's the matter?"
All eyes were on him now. Probing. Staring. Waiting.
"Your wife...she's...she's dead, my Lord."
The silence that followed was palpable. No one spoke. Not a word. Gryndall opened his visor and removed his helmet. He let it drop to the ground.
"My Lord," said Donal, reaching out to touch his king on the shoulder.
He knew Gryndall. He knew what effect such news would have on him.
"My Lord!" he repeated, louder and more frantically this time.
Gryndall ignored his knight. "And my son? How is he? Is he dead as well?"
He dropped from his horse and landed firmly on the ground. His face wore a vacant expression.
Aidan shook his head quickly, happy that he could give the king some good news. "No, my Lord. Winifred took him to her relations near the marsh."
"My Lord," Donal interrupted. "Please, boy, don't say anymore. He's heard enough. Dalwynn, grab his horse."
"You grab his horse."
Donal gave the larger knight a look of exasperation and took hold of the reins of the king's white stallion.
"My Lord. Please. Get on your horse. There could be trouble - "
He stopped speaking at the sound of voices from up ahead. It was a foreign tongue. The words were incomprehensible.
"But my wife..." said Gryndall slowly as he trudged slowly towards Aidan, "...she's...dead?"
Aidan nodded, backing away as the king approached him, zombie-like and dspondent. He'd never seen him behave this way before and it frightened him.
The voices in the distance were growing steadily in number and in volume. They sounded upbeat and boisterous. Chatty and energetic, the occasional barking laugh standing out from among them. Accompanying the sound was a steady clink-clink of metal.
"What in the name...?"
Muirfinn spurred his horse forwards.
"MUIRFINN!" Donal shouted as the knight disappeared around another bend in the road.
Donal's shouting seemed to catch Gryndall's attention and shake him, somewhat, from his stupor.
The king turned and looked at his knights. They were almost invisible now, the darkness having enclosed them within the past quarter of an hour, and Gryndall could hardly make out their faces.
Meanwhile, the voices coming from the road ahead, had stopped.
But then, all of a sudden: "VIKINGS!"
"Damn it."
The screeching of swords being drawn. The sound of visors being snapped shut. Horses whinnying.
"VIKINGS!"
Muirfinn's second outburst seemed to spur the king into action. Drawing his sword, his jaw set in firm concentration, Gryndall took off running in the direction from which Muirfinn's voice had come.
"MY LORD!" Donal roared after him.
Gryndall flew forwards, headlong, running hard.
"MY LORD! WAIT! WAIT FOR THE REAR GUARD!"
Desperate, Donal turned to Junius.
"Junius! Sound your horn! MY LORD!"
Junius sounded three loud blasts with his horn as Donal raced after the king.
Fifty - if not more - Vikings. On the road. In plain view. Less than a hundred yards between them.
"VIKINGS!"
Three more loud blasts from Junius' horn.
"MY LORD! WAIT FOR THE REAR GUARD! MY LORD!"
"Aidan!" Dalwynn snapped. "Away with you! Find somewhere safe!"
The stable boy nodded and to
ok off running as Dalwynn cracked his reins and raced after Donal.
"VIKINGS!"
"MY LORD!"
The sound of war drums. Armour. Swords. Arrows being notched.
"Whoresons! Get out of Carthal!"
"MY LORD!"
Donal pleaded with the king to stop. To turn around. To wait for the rear guard. But it was to no avail and Gryndall hit their front men full on, racing hard, thrusting his sword into whatever body he could find.
"MY LORD! MUIRFINN! PROTECT THE KING!"
Muirfinn was already there. Donal arrived a second later. Dalwynn was quickly catching up. As was Junius.
They slashed and hacked and blocked the vicious swipes from the Vikings' axes and shields raining down on Gryndall.
It wasn't enough.
"MY LORD!"
"ARGGGGGGHHHH!"
Donal hacked off the head of one Viking and jabbed an arrow into the exposed face of another.
Man after man rushed forwards, the Vikings forming a wave of solid iron and muscle and ramming them backwards.
"MY LORD!"
Chaos now as the rear guard arrived and smashed into the Vikings. Battle cries all around. The screams and gutteral gasps of men dying. Heads splitting. Bellies spilling And all the while, Donal and Dalwynn sandwiched in the middle and searching in vain for Gryndall who had been swallowed up by the angry horde surrounding them.
"MY LORD!"
Swords swinging through the air. Horses braying. Hooves flying. Shields battering. Blood gushing. Bodies falling.
"MY LORD!"
"Donal..."
The voice was faint, but nonetheless audible.
"MY LORD! DALWYNN! HE'S HERE!"
Firm hands gripped the king as the knights closed in around him and battled the the remaining Vikings back.
"My Lord..."
A long gash on his cheek. Another on his shoulder. An oozing, open wound at his side. An axe buried in his right thigh.
"My Lord..."
"QUICKLY! GET HIM OVER THERE!" Donal bellowed, pointing to a spot beside the road.
The battle was moving away from them now as the Carthalian riders corralled the Vikings and pushed them back down the road, away from the king.
"QUICKLY!"
Dalwynn dropped his sword and shield and hoisted the king onto one massive shoulder.
"Over there! We can work on him over there!"
Donal was already opening the pouch in his saddle bag that contained yarrow and Angelica Archangelica - two potent, medicinal herbs.
They reached the edge of the road and Dalwynn laid the king down gently against a large oak tree as Donal set to work.
"Here, my Lord! I've got ye! Stay with us, my Lord!"