“Doesn’t matter,” said Peter. “I have permanently appointed myself your personal bodyguard. I can’t believe Clarence and I weren’t around when you nearly got yourself killed. Not going to let that happen again. From now on, I go where you go. In fact, I go there ahead of you, so that if they want to get to you, they have to go through me first. And there’s not many can do that.”
“Right . . . ,” said Richard. “Where were you, exactly, when all the excitement was going on?”
“In the beer tent,” said Peter.
“Of course, yes,” said Richard. “Didn’t Clarence volunteer to be my bodyguard as well?”
“Lot of use he’d be,” said Peter. “I’m sure he would have volunteered, if he’d thought of it. But this was my idea. And be honest; what use would a minstrel be in the face of another assassin? What’s he going to do, sing something satirical at them and shame them out of it?”
“Clarence can use a sword when he has to,” Richard said steadily. “He did good work out on the border. Beside you and me.”
“We’ve all changed a lot since those days,” said Peter. “Anyway, last I heard, he was busy organising your stag do, for tonight.”
Richard grinned despite himself. “Of course he is. I hadn’t even thought about it. But he’ll have to cancel; I’m really not in the mood.”
“I told him that,” said Peter.
The door behind them swung open suddenly, and everyone present dropped their hand to their sword. But it was just Catherine, distracted by the sound of voices outside her door. Richard quickly assured her that all was well.
“Who’s this with you?” Catherine said suspiciously.
“An old friend of mine,” said Richard. “Peter Foster.”
“Friend and bodyguard,” said Peter.
“About time,” said Catherine. “Look after him, Peter. I’m not the only one in danger here.”
And then they all looked round again as heavy footsteps announced the arrival of the Sombre Warrior, along with the six guards he’d brought with him from Redhart. All the Castle guards watched carefully, hands at their sword hilts. They looked to Prince Richard for their cue and he shook his head slightly. The guards relaxed just a little. The Sombre Warrior crashed to a halt before Richard and Catherine, ignoring Peter, and bowed to them both. Peter stepped forward, deliberately putting himself between Richard and the Sombre Warrior.
“Easy, Peter,” Richard said quietly.
“Easy, hell,” said Peter. “What are you doing here, Warrior?”
“We are here to help guard the Princess,” said the Sombre Warrior. “We will be here, outside her door, until the wedding tomorrow. And then we will escort her to the ceremony, as her honour guard. I have received no orders on this. But I felt . . . this was something I had to do.”
“Of course,” said Richard diplomatically. “The Princess should have an honour guard.”
“Anyone would think you didn’t trust Castle security,” Peter said to the Sombre Warrior.
The Warrior gave all his attention to Richard. “No offence intended, your highness.”
“None taken,” said Richard. “But after what happened today . . . Given that the knife-thrower invoked the name of Redhart . . .”
“I chose all of my men personally,” the Sombre Warrior said steadily. “They have already saved her from an attack by brigands. I trust them all with my life, and that of the Princess.”
“And I trust them, and you,” said Catherine. “Thank you, sir Warrior. If this is acceptable to you, Richard?”
“Of course,” said Richard. Peter started to say something, but Richard shut him up with a look. He then turned his glare on the watching guards. “I’m sure there won’t be any problem integrating the Warrior’s men with my own.”
The guards up and down the corridor took their cue from the Prince and nodded formally, if not particularly enthusiastically.
Catherine looked steadily at the Sombre Warrior. “Do you think there’ll be another attack before the wedding?”
“I hear many things,” said the Sombre Warrior. “Some that I am free to tell you, and some that I am not. Your enemies are still out there. But I swear to you, your highness, upon my life and upon my honour, I will stand between you and all harm.”
Catherine nodded, genuinely touched. It was clear to her that the Warrior had heard something but didn’t want to frighten her.
“Thank you, sir Warrior,” she said. “I will feel much safer, knowing you are there.”
“Best to err on the side of caution,” said the Sombre Warrior. “If you wish, I could stay in your room with you . . .”
“No,” Catherine said immediately. “That would be an insult to Castle security. And I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
“Yes,” said the Sombre Warrior. “I remember.”
“The very idea!” said Lady Gertrude, peering past Catherine at all the men in the corridor. “A man? Sharing the Princess’ room, at night? Before the wedding? Most unsuitable! Come inside, my sweet, and I’ll make you a nice hot posset, to help you sleep.”
Catherine inclined her head to the Sombre Warrior, and to the guards, and managed a small smile just for Richard. And then she closed the door firmly in their faces.
• • •
She could hear the guards moving about in the corridor for a while, as everyone worked out where they should be, and then she heard Richard’s voice as he moved off down the corridor, with his friend and bodyguard Peter. Catherine waited until his voice was gone, and then she sank down in her chair again, utterly exhausted. She struggled to get her thoughts together, while doing her best to ignore Lady Gertrude fussing over her.
“You didn’t touch that nice brandy,” said Gertrude. “How about some nice hot milk instead? Shall I fetch a blanket, to wrap around you, to keep out the chills? No? Well, I’m sure you know best. You really should drink something, my dear. Fluids are good for you when you’ve been through a trying experience. Look, I already made this steaming hot posset, just for you. The kind you used to love when you were small. Don’t let it go to waste . . .”
“Lady Gertrude?” said Catherine, not looking up.
“Yes, my sweet?”
“I know you mean well, Gertrude, but if you don’t shut the hell up right now, I will find something large and heavy and use it to pound your head into the floor.”
“Well, really!” said Gertrude.
“Yes, really!” said Catherine. She shook her head and sighed slowly. “I’m sorry, Gertrude. I’m just . . . Look, this is me, changing the subject.” She thought for a moment, and then shook her head again. “I can’t seem to concentrate on anything. I miss Sir Jasper. He always knew how to cheer me up. Has anyone seen him recently?”
“Not to the best of my knowledge,” said Gertrude just a bit coldly. “I’d have said we were better off without him.”
“I wouldn’t,” Catherine said firmly. “I think he’s just what I need, to take my mind off things.” She raised her voice. “Sir Jasper! Come to me! I need you!”
And just like that, the ghost was there in the room, standing before her. He looked more solid than before, more like a real old man, with white hair and beard, in a long white nightie. Gertrude jumped at his sudden appearance, and let out a loud squeak. Sir Jasper jumped at Gertrude’s loud squeak, and looked very much like he would have liked to make one himself. Catherine smiled, feeling better already.
“Princess! Are you all right?” Sir Jasper looked quickly about him, and then calmed down a little as he saw no obvious threat. He brushed unconsciously at the folds of his nightie, and tugged at his long beard. “I heard what happened! The whole Castle is buzzing with the news, and it’s amazing how much you can overhear when you’re invisible and people don’t realise you’re standing right behind them. But you don’t need to worry anymore, Catherine. I’m here!”
“You?” said Lady Gertrude, staring down her nose at him, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Hah
! What use are you, hiding behind things and jumping at your own shadow? What would you do if an assassin did get in here? Creep up behind him and shout Boo! in his ears?”
Sir Jasper looked guiltily at Catherine, and gathered his dignity about him. Which wasn’t easy for an old man in a floor-length nightie.
“I am a bit rubbish as a ghost, I’ll admit. But I was a knight once. I’m almost sure I was.”
“Don’t squabble, you two,” said Catherine. “I’m tired, and my head is killing me.”
Lady Gertrude and Sir Jasper were both immediately contrite. The ghost drifted back and forth around the room, trying to work out what he could usefully do, while Lady Gertrude bustled off and came back almost immediately with a heavy mug containing something hot and wet, with steam coming off it. She all but forced the mug into Catherine’s hands, and the Princess took it just to get her to shut up. Gertrude stood firmly before her, silently insisting that Catherine drink the stuff. Sir Jasper happened to drift by. He glanced at the mug, and then stopped, and looked at it more closely.
“What is that?” he said, and something in his voice made Catherine sit up and pay attention.
“It’s a hot posset,” said Gertrude. “Just the thing to help a tired soul get a little well-earned peace.”
“Yes . . . ,” said Sir Jasper. “But what’s in it?”
“Like you’d appreciate it even if I told you,” sniffed Gertrude. “It’s herbs and spices and . . . all sorts of things that are good for you! That’s all. It’s an old family recipe . . .”
But still, something in the way Gertrude said all that made Catherine sit up straight in her chair and take notice. She looked into the mug, and then looked at Gertrude. Sir Jasper looked at Catherine steadily.
“Don’t drink that. I’ll be right back.”
He disappeared, gone in a moment, not even leaving a disturbance in the air behind him. Gertrude started to say something, and then stopped, as Catherine looked at her.
“What is he talking about, Lady Gertrude?” said Catherine.
“I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea, my sweet,” said Gertrude, flustered. “If you don’t want a posset, you don’t have to have one, I’m sure. I can always make you something else. Here, give it back to me and I’ll empty it down the toilet. Though it’s a shame to waste perfectly good ingredients, I must say . . .”
Sir Jasper reappeared, and this time he had with him Laurence Garner, head of Castle security. Who looked very startled at suddenly being somewhere else, almost certainly without his permission. He blinked about him, quickly recovered his poise, and bowed to the Princess.
“This is the security fellow,” said Sir Jasper. “I found him in a room that was positively rushing about all over the place! Security measure, I suppose. Anyway, I think you should talk to him, Catherine. Really. Right now.”
“How did you know I was head of security?” said Garner to the ghost. Not unreasonably, he felt.
“Oh, I know all sorts of things,” said Sir Jasper. “Not terribly useful things, mostly . . . Like who I am, or . . . Never mind me! Talk to the Princess!”
“I am Laurence Garner, your highness, head of Castle security. This ghost person seems very sure you have need of my services. What can I do to be of assistance?”
Catherine looked at Sir Jasper. “I didn’t know you could do that. Just . . . pop in and out, and grab people.”
“Neither did I,” the ghost said cheerfully. “Until I needed to. Never know what you can do till you try.” He looked at Garner. “In my day, the head of Castle security always carried a sliver of unicorn horn with him, to check for poison. Do you have such a thing about you?”
“Well, yes,” said Garner. “It’s traditional. Though not many people are supposed to know that.” He reached up and pulled a long sliver of pure white bone from his lapel. “What is it that I need to test?”
Catherine and Sir Jasper looked at Lady Gertrude, and then Catherine held out the steaming mug she was holding.
“Oh, just let me get rid of it, if it’s going to upset everyone so!” said Gertrude.
She snatched the mug out of Catherine’s hand to take it away, and then seemed to stumble suddenly. She might have spilt the mug’s contents all over the carpet if Sir Jasper hadn’t been there to snatch the mug out of her hands.
“Careful,” said Sir Jasper.
Catherine looked at him, actually startled. “I didn’t know you were physically present enough to hold things, Sir Jasper.”
“It’s the Castle,” said the ghost. “The longer I stay here, the more . . . solid I feel. The more me.”
He looked thoughtfully at Gertrude, who glared right back at him. Sir Jasper carefully handed the mug and its steaming contents over to Garner. The head of security accepted the mug equally carefully, flinching just a little as he briefly touched the ghost’s cold dead hand. He sniffed the mug’s contents, frowned thoughtfully, and then lowered his sliver of unicorn horn carefully into the hot liquid. And then they all watched in silence, as a dark purple stain rose slowly up the white bone.
Garner removed the sliver, and put it and the mug down on a nearby side table, careful not to let one drop of the liquid touch his hand. And then they all looked at Lady Gertrude. She drew herself up under their accusing gaze and stared silently back at them. Catherine sank into her chair, wrapping her arms around her, suddenly shuddering uncontrollably. She felt dazed, lost, betrayed, and for a long moment she couldn’t say anything.
“How could you?” she said finally. “Poison in my drink? You? You practically raised me!”
“It wouldn’t have killed you,” said Gertrude defiantly. “Just made you really sick for a while. Enough to put off the wedding. A third assassination attempt would have been all we needed to break the Peace agreement and get us out of this filthy country once and for all!”
Catherine wouldn’t let herself look away. “You didn’t come up with this on your own. Who put you up to this?”
Gertrude just stared right back at Catherine, her mouth shut in a firm line. Catherine turned to Garner.
“Take her away. Get the truth out of her. Whatever it takes.”
For the first time Gertrude looked shocked. “Catherine! You’d let them do that? To me?”
“Why not?” said Catherine coldly. “I don’t know you anymore.”
“I had every right to do this!” said Gertrude, her voice flat and ugly. “I was put in charge of all the assassination attempts by your father! By the King himself! You were never in any real danger, not after all the extra protections he had placed on you!”
“My father . . . ,” said Catherine. She slumped into her chair, looking like she’d just been hit in the face. “I don’t believe you.”
“I do,” said Garner. “The assassins had to be activated by someone who was present on both occasions, and was in close proximity to you. And kings . . . will always do what they feel to be necessary. No matter who gets hurt in the process.”
“The protections could have failed!” Catherine shouted at Gertrude. “Something could have gone wrong! My father . . . my own father was prepared to put my life at risk . . . to bring about a war? Why? No one wants this stupid war!” She shook her head, trying to understand. “He took away my lovely Champion, destroyed the life I wanted, to send me here . . . After all his preaching to me, about duty and honour and responsibility . . . how I had to come here and marry a stranger to prevent the suffering and slaughter of war . . . Liar! Hypocrite! Warmongering piece of shit! I’ll never forgive him for this. Never.”
She threw herself out of her chair and stamped up and down the suite, all but incandescent with rage. Garner stood back and let her do it; he could see she was only a moment away from real violence. Suddenly Catherine stopped and turned on Gertrude.
“That’s it! I’m done with Redhart, and my father. I’m staying here and marrying Richard. The only one who really cares about me. He was prepared to die to save me!”
“And what abo
ut your lovely Champion, Malcolm Barrett?” said Gertrude coldly.
“He was a part of this!” Catherine shouted right in Gertrude’s face. “He had to be! He’s the King’s Champion, the man who’ll lead Redhart into war! How could he not know?” Catherine turned away, shaking, her voice choked with too many emotions.
“He didn’t know,” said Gertrude. “He knew nothing of any of this.”
“Liar,” Catherine said dully. “You’d say anything, wouldn’t you? Richard’s the only one I can believe in now.”
“You can’t marry him!” said Gertrude. “And you can’t stay here! You can’t betray your country!”
“My country betrayed me! My country tried to have me killed!” Catherine was breathing hard now, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. “Talk to me, Gertrude. Tell me why.”
“We all lost someone, out on the border,” said Gertrude. “Isn’t that what everyone says? Well, I lost my young man. My lovely young man. We were so much in love. We were going to be married the moment he came back. Instead, they gave me a letter saying he’d died. Just another name on the list of all the brave young Redhart men who never came home. Killed by those Forest bastards. There was never anyone else for me, after him . . . And they were going to give away the land he fought and died for! It would have all been for nothing! Everything I’ve been through! For nothing!”
“I never knew,” said Catherine. “I never thought . . .”
“You never cared,” said Gertrude viciously. “I wore black, in mourning, all your life . . . and all you ever did was laugh behind my back. Silly old thing; why doesn’t she get over it? Raising someone else’s child, because she’ll never have one of her own. You never cared, you spoilt little bitch!”
And suddenly she was lunging for Catherine with a glowing dagger in her hand. Laughing like a mad thing. Catherine was too shocked to move for a moment, unable to believe her old companion was actually trying to kill her. And then she grabbed a chair and held it out before her. Gertrude stopped and tried to stab at Catherine around the chair, the dagger’s blade gleaming unnaturally bright.