Writing
When you about being a Writer, it is almost as if you were declaring yourself unseen, impotent and bankrupt although the Cirencester Windows installers are probably working on that.
Every coma must in be place and everyone else's commas irritate.
Your write at a keyboard and alone until they introduce double seats for Political people but you and your ideas are what matters and the keyboard matters little because somewhere someone has the means to make a mark on a wall that says I am a Writer.
How do normal people transform into a Writer, where you live in a word and a world that your partner needs to kick you out of.
You dream of Planets,Worlds that will never exist and you spend everyone's life at a keyboard for something that generates pennies and a house that then collapses on you.
Life should mean more, but to a Writer; what is life?
Dave
Laseith’s temper, never good, was now incandescent and even the broomstick seemed worried, whilst Routani was quivering, “I will get those bastards, Routani Jamesson! No-one thwarts me. That idiot, Arturo, deserved whatever he got and those nurses are dead – they deserve to die for failing me – did you have them taken care of?”
“They’ve been taken care of, Laseith. As you ordered.”
All of the nurses were in fact pumped full of sleeping potions by Myrow, and Routani’s attempts to quietly kill them meant waiting for the Guards and nurses to both wake up. The soldiers who were ready to carry out Laseith’s instructions were now quietly sleeping in the dungeons, and they had enjoyed the fruits of their potential labours – sent by Laseith, who didn’t know she had sent them and they would be ready for the front when the army finally left, and King Machael promised himself they would be in front of him!
King Machael was well used to the attempts by Laseith and Routani to kill people but killing Laseith and Routani would to himself, indicate failure and to the people of his country, a lack of succession leading to Sir Facid and Sir Charles Dastry looking to their own succession.
It was easier to have their attempts miscarry than try to stop them – in some cases, he couldn’t stop them but that was a price to pay for stability although the dead people would probably disagree.
If he ever found a way for both Laseith and Routani to pay with their own poison he would be interested, however for now he had little choice, possibly it was a pity King Machael was not present at his adopted daughters’ little chat that followed soon afterwards as they realised they had been out-thought by a mere man.
Laseith, in a formidable temper as usual had found failure even harder to take ans was fighting the urge to use her broomstick and no longer have a sister, but it was too early claim both Ascania and Toshonia …? Well, maybe … No … maybe, but not like that. Finally she moved her temper to mere furnace level, “Routani, let us look at your marriage and subsequent widowhood to and of, King m.”
“I haven’t even married him yet, Laseith and you are killing him – should I have a succession first?”
“I like to plan ahead, Routani. Well, we need to sort out that concubine. We don’t want competition before he dies.”
“The Chancellor is still working on the marriage arrangements, it will be months before I am married to Martan. Why you are planning now?”
“I’m looking after you, my sweet sister. When I have finished I will rule Ascania and Toshonia – we, my sister …? We! Yes, we will rule both and no-one will ever say, ‘nay’ to us – we will rule!”
“How do we kill this child, Laseith? I’m not even in the castle nor do I have people to kill her?”
“There are always people who will kill. We just need to find them but my broom will find her and kill her!”
“How will your broom find someone and kill them? It can’t even find you at times and it – I can’t even think of it flying over water without bringing up a year’s meals!”
“You always were squeamish but perhaps you have a point and my need for the broom is greater in Ascania than Toshonia. We can always find killers, anyway, no matter where. Let us see what Martan’s concubine is doing? I found the scrying stone at the same time as I found my broomstick and it can see things.”
“Where did you find it, Laseith and it couldn’t see a thing the last time you tried. What can it see now, Laseith?”
“Watch, and you will learn something, Routani; just watch and be quiet!”
“It’s not doing anything, Laseith.”
“Be quiet; let me be the judge of that. Now shut-up!”
Laseith watched the image form in the crystal stone and saw soldiers riding from the castle, “The mirror never lies, there she is!”
“Where, Laseith? There are only soldiers. So we don’t know where she is, Laseith?”
“We will find her, Routani, and then she dies and her bastard with her!”
“How do we find her, Laseith?”
“There will be a way, Routani; just leave it to me!”
“I thought we were killing Michael’s child, now you are talking of killing Martan’s concubines’ child.”
Chapter XXII - Donina
The problem with running away, when pregnant, Donina realised is that you prefer movement to be a little slower and preferably not on a horse but the armour had been suitably changed to fit her condition and two Guards were staying very close to her, and so was a large Cat that no-one seemed to notice. No-one looked happy – not even the Cat. The horses were restless; the Guards were restless and the two Guards near her seemed stable until she learnt they were called ‘The Drunk’ and ‘Jinny’ and at this point she was feeling quite queasy herself – Rosanna had given her a potion to ease this but it made her sleepy and that was a luxury at the moment especially when she thought about the Drunk and Jinny..
Donina didn’t know where the Cat came from but there were other problems needing her urgent attention in her pregnancy and it was only ten minutes ago they’d left the castle.
She’d thought she’d hidden it well for five months but everyone watched her as a guide to her master’s moods and from that they watched her stomach, bottom and toilet habits – loose clothing could hide most things but she’d needed to make some visits that couldn’t be hidden and nor could the frequency of them and she couldn’t touch food in public with or without a taster although she did try but even that was wearing out, as were the tasters.
She had lost eight food tasters so far this year and was regularly checked by Rosanna most evenings. Now she would need to check herself but her toilet habits wouldn’t change.
Sir Charles Dastry’s broom finally arrived in Charguar a few days before Donina left. To say his journey was eventful would have made Sir Charles laugh if that was possible. He’d taken off from Castle Dastry; making his way on the broom and gripping it like a Government on an austerity drive.
When his broom almost parted from him over the Storme Sea leaving his hands around its neck as if he was trying to wring it he received a close description of reality; starting a rapid descent with the rest of his body a foot above the broom and almost floating in mid-air when he certainly didn’t expect it.
They just made a cold wet mountainous island short of Zapril before the broom gave up completely – obviously a late night had beckoned to its bristles and everyone else was paying the cost for a late night out and it was a cold wet night high up in the mountains.
Next morning he finally managed to take an early launch and arrived at Zapril – limping; that was a realistic statement and eventually they also arrived in Saspros although Sir Charles wasn’t really sure who arrived but there were no circumstances under which he would trust this broom to get him to Minet and he was finally forced to hire a boat to Minet and then together they manage a short hop to Woara and from there via several other mountain tops to finally land at Charguar – also just missing a few more mountains on the way. The broom changed directions from mountains to trees without consultation, hitting everyone and everything as it finally lowered itself down.
Sir Charles hired his Guards on a pittance and as he finally made broom/ground level, he was living as they were. It took some time for Sir Charles to find his other Guards as they were hiding in the trees away even further from the road but when the broom finally descended into the Guards and camp and being one of Laseith’s brooms immediately started attacking everyone.
The Guards didn’t wait around. It was bad enough being attacked by villagers and driven out; now a Magician on a broom had turned up with a broom attacking them and they ran even further into the trees.
Sir Charles finally managed to stop the broom and then tried to find his Guards. It took him hours before anyone would come near him. The one thing Laseith’s brooms was the exclusive company they sought which means launching yourself after running people.
His Guards claimed they were awaiting his spies and money – both of which seemed to be in short supply – his spymaster would be one of the people who did meet the broom as he appeared to be skimming the top, bottom and both sides of the pot.
Four of them still could enter Charguar but the rest were known as thieves and would meet a crossbow bolt if they tried to meet anyone and the impression he formed of them was that it would be well deserved.
The Guards had managed to kill a wild boar and made him what they felt was a generous offer, “We’re roasting some meat tonight; building a large fire – please feel invited and your broom can warm its bristles.”
Sir Charles could see a certain gleam in their eyes as they said this and he saw them looking at the Golden Dagger of the Droga’s, “I think not. I will take the four who can enter Charguar with me and there are some other Guards and dogs to pick up in Charguar. I must forego your offer and I will leave my broom behind.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
“One question I do have though. As you are so far from Matira why do you not have regular patrols to Matira? My spymaster appears to be in error, and I will correct that in terms of the lack of money, supplies and information but why have you not sought to provide regular patrols to Matira and challenge him?”
“First and foremost, my Lord, the lack of payment and supplies left us having to live off the land and steal. Four of our Guards were killed within the first month and six others deserted, then the villagers complained to King Martan that bandits were living in the trees and preying on farms and hovels. He now has patrols on the roads. Only the forest stops them as they will not enter the forest on horseback and that is how we are forced to live – they have to use the roads – we can not be seen on them or we get crossbow bolts.
“I gave enough money!”
“You gave someone enough money, Sir Charles …? I don’t think we ever saw it – no money, apart from a pittance, reached us. We live in the forest as outlaws and they treat us as such. We make do on what we can rob and steal. We don’t receive enough of anything to buy anything, Sir Charles.”
Sir Charles took the Golden Dagger of the Droga’s from its sheath and said, “do you know what that is?”
“More money than you paying us, Sir Charles, and with that we wouldn’t be starving or buying used-up old nags to ride!”
“I’m here now, so we’ll get you decent horses and stop looking like scarecrows – if that is possible?”
Sir Charles decided to leave the broom behind. A rider entering a village cum small town with a broom would certainly attract attention if not laughter, and that was the last thing he wished to do and someone or something needed to make sure these Guards were still here when he returned however the broom already had them terrified and had the broom been reading his mind when it attacked them?
The idea had definitely been there as he landed – amongst a lot of other emotions.
It was only a matter of some five to ten miles to Charguar according to his, and Sir Charles felt the sooner he picked up some more reliable Guards the better he would feel and as for the two black hounds. His next surprise was that Charguar was not a small village cum town on the coast. As he left the depths of the forest he saw farms with timber build walls and not hovels as he’d been told.
He saw some brick built houses on the farms and as he rode on, wooden framed building were lining the road; wells were dug, and rising in the distance he could see water catchment. This was not some poor wreck of a place, it was prosperous and it was no wonder that King Martan ran regular patrols here – his spymaster had either lied or could not be bothered to leave Matira to find out – there would be a reckoning. He carried on towards the mountains and even there, there were mines for ore, marble and gold – something else he hadn’t been told.
As he near the mountains he finally found the buildings he was looking for and Margo opened a door complete with a meat cleaver as he approached, “I told your bandits not to come here again. I don’t warn twice!” Margo for a woman was large, almost as wide as she was tall and at five foot three did not appear to be frightened of anyone.
Sir Charles raised his dagger, “I am no bandit, Margo, and I’ll thank you not to call me one.”
Margo’s face fell as she recognised the dagger, “Sir Charles, I didn’t know you had arrived. I haven’t seen that useless spymaster of your for a good half-year and all those bandits do is come around here stealing.”
“Had Sargon paid them instead of lining his own pockets they would not have been reduced to stealing? Have you tried to contact Sargon to find out what he is doing?”
“I initially sent two riders – neither they, nor Sargon, nor any funds returned. I sent other riders to see if he still lived – none of them have returned – now the other riders refuse what the call a ‘kiss of the devil’ mission …? I don’t think anyone of them will try that mission. So far you lost seven riders, Sir Charles trying to find out what Sargon, your Spy-Master is up to.”
“Damn all spymasters. If he cannot protect himself, how can he protect me?”
“Would anyone know his identity, Sir Charles?”
“Possibly Princess Laseith, but she is in Ascania.”
“She may be, Sir Charles but even I know of the broomsticks arriving from Ascania and the news their passengers bring usually ends up in the taverns, and I now have my own Agents in the taverns – I had the money from the lost seven riders to spend. They have also seen little of your spymaster – if anything, if they could manage to tell the truth without embellishment!”
“How many Guards do you have left, Margo, and please don’t shout the answer?”
“I have lost seven people, Sir Charles, which leaves thirteen – an evil number to shout about!”
“Calm yourself, Margo. That is an old superstition. I have these four with me and you can take them to make your numbers up.”
“Must I, Sir Charles? I would rather have evil luck than these bandits.”
“Where are the hounds?”
“We have to keep them in the huts, nowadays. When they were attacking the wolves, it was fine. When the wolves were gone, they attacked the livestock. It took a large payment and a promise to keep them locked up to save them. When you take them, and I wish you would, please keep them on leads or it will be my neck they hang, and probably yours as well. They don’t think that deeply around the mountains before they act.”
“I need a team of thirty people I can trust, plus those dogs and a scout. You are right about those in the forest but they will be cannon fodder. Thirty one from you, plus these and whoever is left in the forest, when I get back should give us the men I need.”
“I will have a room prepared for you, Sir Charles. These can sleep in the barn with the dogs – the dogs are used to smells.”
“Put them in a tavern with a bath; new clothes and an escort so they are ready when I want them. When can you get word to your people in Matira?”
“One of them should be here tomorrow. If nothing of importance is occurring, they report every two weeks. One is due tomorrow and I would suggest a bath is prepared for your Lordship and I will prepare a meal – let those bandits find a tavern as you instruct.”
“Thank you, I could enjoy a good bath and meal.”
“I also have a bottle of wine but I cannot speak for its taste.”
“An honest statement and I seem short of those as well.”
“This way my Lord,” and turning to his escort with little more than contempt, “To the tavern with you wretches and don’t abuse it or I will know and I will set the hounds on you – some coins for them, if you would, Sir, or they will only start stealing again,” Sir Charles took a small bag from inside his shirt and tossed it to his escort, “I will see you here tomorrow afternoon – follow the instructions of Margo’s people if you wish to live!”
Sir Charles watch them ride off, but not to the mountains, “Will they return, Margo?”
“My people will make sure they do and I do employ some capable people who they would never escape.”
“Your certainty comforts me, Margo. Let us see to this bath and meal. My needs, after journeying with that broom, are dire.”
The night looked at Alisia who then looked at her escort and Jinny, who was leading the Guards, “isn’t it dangerous to ride across cornfields in the dark?”
“We need to head east, my Lady but someone inconveniently built the road from Matira to the west – taking us in the wrong direction and in what will be public sight in a few hours. We need to move to the east and remain out of sight – King Martan already holds one Spy Master in his dungeons plus several who came to find. It won’t be long before whoever employs knows he has disappeared. Quite severe questioning has highlighted his employer as Sir Charles Dastry. If we follow the sea coast until it ends, we are some ten miles from the road but eighty miles closer and undiscovered. We can ease your condition by riding slowly – on the road, we would have to move at speed. The Drunk and I also have a Cat and he will be prowling and scenting for anyone following.”
“Who chose this route?”
“I did, and with the Cat I have more chance of guaranteeing your safety than by blindly following a road in the wrong direction. Are you ready to ride?”
“You seemed frightened?”
“I am alive and I have been, as a trooper, for many years. I would not tell you how to act as a concubine, please don’t tell me how to act as a trooper and King Martan considers me a ‘lucky trooper’ as I usually win. That is why I have this job, now please mount your horse and will we move out before we alert the whole country and don’t think that no-one is looking for you. An exhausted rider from Charguar reported to King Martan shortly before he spoke to you, and I know what the King heard. Sir Charles Dastry recently landed in Toshonia and is now raising a Guards of villains and two black hounds the size of the Cat to move on Matira and the King …? You would be a bonus and hurt the King more than anything.”
“So menace stalked me before I even left the castle; together with two killer hounds.”
“Yes. That is another reason why we take this route. There is only one way they can follow our tracks if they pick this route, otherwise they must use the road; travel the extra distance and face the extra patrols that King Martan has on the roads; also the Cat is watching our backs. It was obvious that Sir Charles has his own spies in the castle and you went to bed with King Martan as a concubine and left as a guard. In some hours, someone will be on their way to Charguar to inform Sir Charles that Lady Donina has not made her usual toilette visits and this will alert them. It won’t take long for a late night patrol to be connected to this and that is also why riding directly towards them is not a good idea. We also need to move slowly and the dogs, if they follow will smell us and they will move faster than can and once they get close enough they can take out horses and people. Our only hopes are that it will take them time to get here and pick up the scent or else they will lose any scents on the roads – one reason for the extra patrols. The black hounds don’t need to kill and the hounds take a lot of killing. Even Cat can only handle one but Cat does have a brain and he uses it, amongst his other tricks. Let’s move; we are wasting time.”
Sir Charles, after a good bath, good meal and a bottle of rot gut wine that he donated to the Guards still at Margo’s house, slept well, which was hardly surprising, considering his trip on the broom and he was breaking his fast with Margo when they heard the messenger arrive and Margo was the first out of the house.
“What news, Trevor?”
“Routine, Margo. No sign of the Spy Master and anyone asking vanishes. King Martan is still in the castle. Donina appears to be staying with him in the King’s bedchambers, and that has been known to happen before. More patrols than normal on the roads but no reason as far as anyone knows. It is said, ‘Princess Routani will be arriving shortly’, but no confirmation of that. Everything seems to be quiet and no real signs of anything. If there are any changes, a rider is available and will be here. It is only eighty miles from Matira and the rider would kill his horse to bring news so you will hear within six hours if anything changes.”
“Rest yourself and your horse, Trevor, head for the tavern and I’ll summons you if I need you.”
“Thank you, Margo,” and Trevor headed back down the road as Sir Charles looked at Margo.
“Can you trust him, Margo?”
“As much as any of my sons, Sir Charles.”
Donina’s escort progressed some ten miles through the cornfields, which were a little lower in some places and even lower, where the horses trampled. Eight miles from the road that Donina demanded so turning south was her demand. Once again, Donina hit the wall of Jinny, “No, Donina. It is only eight miles to the road but just another fourteen to the small copse adjoining the road. The longer we stay off the road the safer we are and the hounds can’t pick up scent unless they know our route and target. It should leave us seventy miles ahead of them if they use the road and these cornfields should make the hounds work, a lot heavier, but they will be on our trail by the time we reach the copse. Sure as a rooster’s crow in the morning.”
“And when they find us?”
“We will have some hounds and people to kill,” and much to Donina’s chagrin and bowels, they continued east across the cornfields, avoiding any farms.”
It was some eight hours later when both Donina, her escort, and Sir Charles’ second messenger finally found their respective destinations.
Donina’s destination, to her disgust, was the copse by the road and Donina was finally realising that her running a kingdom, as she felt she had, was dependent on King Martan sleeping with her.
Sir Charles’ messenger almost became a corpse when Sir Charles’ temper exploded, until he found himself looking into a small stirrup crossbow he didn’t realise Margo was aiming at his head, “You don’t shoot the messenger, Sir Charles, although given that Bostrus is my son, I have often felt like it myself. I may shoot you, if you continue to threaten him!”
“My apologies, Bostrus. Do we really know Donina has left the castle and in what direction she has gone?”
“All we know my Lord is that she has not made her usual visits and that they are something she can not avoid making. No-one can remember seeing her this morning so she is either dead or has left the castle.”
“How in all the nether-hells that we have can she have left the castle with all your diligent watchers, Bostrus?”
“Without the orders of your vanishing Spy Master, my Lord, we had no instructions and my Lord, and we are weak without regular meals, like others who haven’t been paid, either. A Guards of Guards left the castle late last night; we can only guess they were her Guards and the odd thing was that they set across the cornfields to the east. They may then have taken ship; travelled to the roads or settled at one of the farms; carried on to the east?”
“How soon can we travel, Margo?”
“My sons, who you are abusing, my Lord, prepared carts with clean clothes, good armour and good horses, overnight. They hold the honour of the Droga’s high. The dogs are already fed and on reins to the carts. The best scout I could hire – Mansly, also my son – is already being raised from his bed and he knows the hounds and scouting people – how do you think we’ve survived without any resources from you, who now demand instant obedience. There are twenty six people in your escort, excluding anyone your Spy Master employed and these are quality people who will want paying, my Lord!”
“With these four and nine in the forest, their is another thirteen – a significant number, so forty – including myself – will find the Lady Donina and kill her.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
“You doubt my success, Margo?”
“Donina has survived over eight attempts to end her life in the last year. Martan may become erratic if she dies and seek those who killed her. That would include myself and my family. You are the rightful King of Matira, my Lord and your dagger proves that. I sacrifice everything I have for the oaths we once gave to a Droga King of Toshonia. Do not squander that, my Lord!”
Sir Charles looked at Margo … the only reliable person he could trust and she considered him a useless traitor to his heritage. Sir Charles and his Guards finally moved, although Troupe seemed a little more realistic to him as he reviewed them watched them canter off in front of him.
It took a while before they finally found the bandits in the forest and he could not think of them as otherwise. His Spy Master had been good. He would never have employed these people. So what had happened to his Spy Master.
King Martan was in his dungeons and especially the one containing Lusus Mariettas – Sir Charles’ Spy Master – Lusus lived; currently or lately was a future decision, if Martan released him, having extracted, previously, Sir Charles funds and information, and thank you very much, Lusus, thought King Martan. King Martan’s real enjoyment as his own spies arrested all of the people who came to find the Spy Master was their talking … yes … he did enjoy listening to it: and did they like to talk as they hung from their feet over his tower, but he also had dogs to feed and dog food wasn’t cheap and they were trying to undermine his kingdom, so the dogs ate, and he learnt.
The Spy Master had now admitted to anything and Martan decided Lusus couldn’t be turned any further. They knew all his contacts – virtually everyone he’d ever met and Martan needed Laseith within reach; Routani was the means but Laseith’s greed the attraction, and the method. Martan would need more priest and priestesses than he could probably afford to protect him but Sir Charles’ money would go towards that. They would be trying to kill him and Alisia, and Sir Charles should interfere with both Routani and Laseith’s plans if allowed enough leverage. He felt he’d built enough protection for the moment.
They were following and concentrating on Alisia, who would lead them a merry chase?
She’d led everyone else merry chases for years!
All he needed now, were their Spy Masters and networks: much as he loved Alisia, she would be a fool to think he would put her life before his or his rule; Sir Charles’ Guards would follow her, and he would regret the deaths but he would rule, and she would die, and that was a fact of ruling!
Sir Charles didn’t even bother to leave his horse. Watching this made some of his worst days, seem brighter. Burning the forest with this bunch in it seemed a fair option but it wouldn’t make them move any faster: they weren’t capable of it; some were grateful to have decent clothing and armour for a change; some did not seem to know the difference and started to fight and gamble over the clothing and armour – the forest might as well be a low tavern for these people, “Mansly, find out the description of those who hired these peasants, and then sent them away south to the roads. The King’s patrols will find them and feel we are following the roads to find Alisia – let them! At best, they can also feed the hounds and keep my food bills down?”
“Do you want me to set the hounds on them, Sir Charles. The hounds can be choosy on food?”
“We have use for the hounds, let us not destroy their taste for meat! We move across country with your mother’s Guards. The rest follow the road to Spragend … it deserves them, but give them some money – they must be able to pay their way and take the time up of the Matira road patrols.”
Sir Charles, who was by now, finding levels of calm he’d never understood nor wanted, finally watched the refuse of his Spy Master’s recruitment rid off towards the roads. With luck they would meet and be killed by the Matira patrols which would divert the patrols from following him across country.
Matira was only twenty five miles away – rough riding.
Sir Charles was surprised as they were on several occasions forced into hiding as large patrols of sixty to seventy armoured Guards rode across the countryside towards them as if they knew the route he was taking. The hounds did play a part in disrupting the patrols and then as Mansly whistled, disappearing again but it became fairly obvious that the patrols were not interested in people in the country and would rather be on the roads.
Finally, after eight hours hard riding, added to ten hours hiding, plus to fifteen hours lost waiting for news, with another eight hours delay before they finally skirted Matira castle; they finally headed into the cornfields conveniently broken for them by Donina and her escort. The escort had some thirty one hours of time ahead of them, at least but Sir Charles didn’t need dogs to follow this trail and their speed was a lot faster than Donina’s and her escort. The dogs had also picked up the Cat’s scent and wee and were roaming over the cornfields like hounds looking for a Cat. The Cat did move across the country a lot but Mansly had no problem with the dogs and once he heard their howl of scent whistled commands to bring them back. They were following a bunch of horsemen treading down a crop field and with the crop field flattened they were able to canter with very little effort even with the hounds smelling the Cat.
The time advantage was being worn down by Donina, who unused to not getting her own way, was now playing King Martan’s deathly games for him. She wanted to head for the road so it was more comfortable, and was increasing her toilet stops to make her point that cornfields were causing her to stop too often. They were barely making five miles an hour – courtesy of Donina – whilst unknown to her, their pursuers were making between twelve to fifteen miles an hour as they galloped through the cornfields and ate the distance between them. Finally they made the copse by the road and Donina with a sigh large enough for everyone to hear, said, “we have made the road!”
“What we have made Donina, is someone threatening your life; our mission, and the lives of this escort for nothing more than your tantrums! Our scouts are already reporting that nearly forty men are pursuing us and they are eight miles behind us. You have wiped out any advantage we had!”
“If you had taken the roads, they wouldn’t have found us.”
“Donina . We would be twenty miles closer to them and dead by now, if we had. As it is, your arrogance will probably kill all of us, and that includes you, my proud lady!”
“So how will you defend me now, my proud leader?”
“Possibly, by wringing your neck but that wouldn’t affect your brain, since that is in your loins and your death is all they desire.
“If you, Donina, do not delay us any longer with your death wish, there is a second branch from the road about twenty miles ahead. The first branch is eight miles ahead. We need the Cat to spray scent around, and we’ll have to hope they have a Scout who will seek where the horses leave— …? Gods, what am I thinking of? They’ll expect us to leave the escort and the escort then draws them away. We need some decoys to carry on through the trees and be where the road turns off on the bend at eight miles. Others will turn off after twenty miles and the first team will join them. The rest will stay with the plan. The Cat needs to spray its scent through the trees across country for the next twenty miles to attract the hounds. We, Donina, stay with the main party although we’ll lose half the force over the two roads but if you could do your business in the trees for their hounds pick up, some should follow the Guards through the trees; they will take their horses through it and the rest should follow the escort. Hopefully we’ll be able to turn right at the next bend and finally might make Spragend—”
“You’re not trying to make Spragend, so why have you headed this way?”
“Didn’t King Martan tell you anything?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Ask yourself this question. If the road to Toshon Village lies to the West, why do you think you have been moving east?”
“You decided!”
“Do you know where Charguar is, Donina?”
“In the mountains to the west.”
“Sir Charles Dastry’s Guards are actually in the forest bordering the road you would have to take from Matira with no means of escape and Sir Charles aiming to kill you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Leaving Matira and heading west would take us past Sir Charles’ Guards in the forest who could ambush us with archers from north and south of the road. The aim, which you have deliberately thwarted was to head through the cornfields; build up a lead of some miles; head towards Spragend and turn back to the west across some thirty of the Spragend sea. Then we head for the Matira sea and finally make the Toshonia sea which would then allow us to sail Rocs Revenge and be within walking distance of Jacque and Mari.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Let’s get on with the job. We need to gallop across this land like a wind passing more than these Guards do. Go between the seas and there are no roads, just rough country. Hopefully by the time they realise, they’ve little chance of catching us as it will be boat and horse and the Drunk should have the first boat hired by the time we get there and he’s had his last drink. The main problem, now, is that we’ve lost our time advantage and King Martan did not plan this route. His plan was for you to use the roads and be caught by Sir Charles.”
“That is a lie. You are a traitor! You are sacrificing my life.”
“I am not prepared to sacrifice the lives of my Guards for you, and King Martan does not want your child born and I am to cut its throat if it ever—”
“That is a lie. He told me he loved me—”
“—Then why did he lie to you. Why did he tell to move slowly. Our only hope was speed and you wiped that out. My Guards with you are just a decoy and Martan thinks you’ll die on the road or in Spragend and my Guards with you – we are all a sacrifice and I’m trying to take you to where you are safe.”
“Why would he lie to me. He loves me.”
“Why would he marry Princess Routani if he wanted you as his Queen and his is King, and can decide who he marries. There is no law against a King of Matira marrying a commoner.”
“There is a law. He can only marry a Princess. That is the law.”
“The law is the King and he is the law. He can do whatever he wants and you have no political value and bearing a child, you have the ability to plunge his kingdom into even more warfare. You got yourself pregnant, thinking to control the King. He decided you were disposable and I’m not prepared to risk my life for the antics of a King and concubine.”
“You are disloyal—”
“But still alive, in spite of you. Our Guards will now reverse and head across cornfields, bypassing yet another forest and we would finally join up with some Guards: surprisingly, at the bit you wanted to meet with Sir Charles and his Guards – forecast at some twenty miles behind us but in fact only eight miles. You left us little chance with your tantrums but they will follow your scent: your urine, and perhaps end that when the hounds find your throat!”
“Are they really that close?”
“Joshua?”
“Yes, Jinny.”
“Tell Lady …? Our only hope was speed and she wiped that out. My Guards with you are just a decoy and Martan thinks you’ll die on the road or in Spragend and my Guards with you – we are all a sacrifice and I’m trying to take you to where you are safe.”.”
“They are drawing closer the longer we sit here! No matter what plan we decide, we need to move. None of us wishes to die, sat here.”
Jinny rode up to the three Guards she’d selected, “go through the trees. Make sure you create a trail. They probably won’t follow you but at the turn-off after that, you move across country again; another six Guards will move to join you there. You wait for them. I don’t think they will attack you as they should follow Donina’ smells and that will lead them to us. You then harass them from behind. All of you have horse bows – use them. They Cat will go with you. If nothing else, it will confuse them and slow them down, and they will wonder how many Guards we really have left if we can squander Guards? You have leave to run, once you engage them but don’t run to Matira – that should, with luck, confuse them even more and hopefully split their forces. This is your note of authority should you meet patrols on the roads. It requires them to assist you,” They took off and the rest of the Guards moved on at a far faster rate, after Donina had once more excused herself.
Jinny watched them go. There wouldn’t be any Guards for them to meet up with but maybe a couple of Guards who were useless could be targets and join them; you never know, they might survive, or even be of some use, afterwards.
had actually tried to fool King Martan, thinking that if she became pregnant he would not marry Princess Routani. Martan did not want a child as it complicated things and he decided her escape would be her death-trap or at the very least a miscarriage and the problem was over. He knew Sir Charles had Guards in the forests to the west of Matira but it was too close to comfort for him to arrange her death there – it had to be far enough away to blame someone else – she was far too well known as being close to him. Instead the idea was to move her across country on a horse for some forty miles whilst word of her leaving was released to the remaining spies of Sir Charles to make him move.
The Guards were as much a sacrifice as anyone else … Jinny had realised that quite early on. The whole plan was a shambles and the Drunk had slipped away earlier whilst the Cat had followed her hand directions to go through the trees with the small band of Guards.
Convincing Sir Charles was the next target and in this she was aided by the tantrums of Donina who’d deliberately slowed them down. Now all they could do was run and hope to split Sir Charles’ forces. They carried on with her towards the west of Toshonia.
Sir Charles and his Guards had made good time through the cornfields and with the path conveniently beaten down were hardly breaking wind. The path was straight and the hounds were picking up the scent with no trouble at all. They seemed to just love running and were easily outdistancing the horses. Sir Charles was also impressed by Margo’s sons: Bostrus looked after one hound called Trusty; Trevor watched the second hound call Evil, like a hawk and often spent his time chasing it and forcing it to return, while Mansly, who was an excellent scout seemed to look after his two brothers like hounds. Still they were making good time and after Mansly had checked some horse droppings he established that the party some four hours ahead but looking at the signs some appeared to have started for the road; some carried on into the trees and towards the coast and some carried on straight ahead.
Sir Charles asked Mansly for numbers?
“Sir Charles, they are deliberately messing up the horses on damp ground and the corn gives little away … I think about twenty— no … my gut feeling is thirty but they have some feline with them and what I don’t understand is that someone who is pregnant, is stopping every few miles to pass water; I have children and my wife did not pass water that often when bearing any of my young. It makes me that someone is deliberately slowing them down – as if they want us to reach them – it makes no sense my Lord – no sense at all?”
“How long before we catch them?”
“I would say four hours, my Lord—”
“Then we move—”
“Where my Lord. They’ve split into three parties? One towards the coast; one towards the road, and the third through the trees towards the road?”
“Follow the scent of the one who keeps passing water.”
“That is the one heading to the coast.”
“My Lord. If we are wrong, we will never catch them. There are only three and they are making good speed through the trees. Better than they should. They must be a decoy my Lord.”
“And if they are not, Mansly? What if they are not?”
“I can only advise, my Lord. If we are wrong she could live. If you are right, they still have four hours to reach the coast and take a boat.”
“If they take a boat, they will drowned at sea – that will happen.”
“As you say, my Lord.”
“We head for the road, Mansly, and with all speed.”
Donina, now in a full guard’s uniform was finding the metal across the chest difficult, but not as difficult as passing water standing up in guard’s breeches but she was a lot faster now. The pursuers however, were also faster and they did not appear to be stopping for anything. Jinny looked back and looking at Alison – her third in command, said, “we leave now. Through the trees to the south and we’ll pick up a small village on the Spragend Sea. Fifteen miles and we should just make it. The Drunk should be there, or he and I will have words in hell; over his dead body.”
“Move, Jinny, and we’ll have more chance,” and Jinny grabbed the reins of Donina’s horse; pulled it off the road and into the forest. The Cat, as if by magic, now appeared.
Donina started her instant and continuous complaints and had her helmet rattled as Jinny hit it, “Any more out of you and I’ll gag you,” Donina immediately started to argue and found chains around her hands linked to her reins whilst a gag was forced into her mouth; stopping all conversation.
“You are not killing me, Alisia. You are just a deposed concubine with no more rights than a beggar. These people better be prepared to take you in or you’ll wonder the streets. We’ll head for a boat that the Drunk should have hidden or the Cat wouldn’t be here. The three Guards – I don’t know – maybe just the north port. I will think the Cat has gone missing, and they will be right or not? Now we ride.”
Sir Charles’ Guards finally stopped as the hounds barked and Mansly leapt down from his horse to inspect their point of interest, “Two horse, Sir Charles, have come off the road and headed into the forest. I can’t say any more.”
“So three headed through a forest towards the north coast; two head through a forest towards the south coast and the rest follow the road … what I wonder, is the difference? The north gives an ability to escape. The south effectively goes nowhere, and the main Guards are heading to Spragend by the look of it. Is there any smell of the Cat?”
“I can set the hounds on it but we lose time, my Lord.”
“We will catch them, Mansly. Stand the Guards down but one patrol – have them follow the remainder of the Guards and report back after ten miles; we need a rest and they won’t be able to avoid us. Find if the Cat is around and then we’ll know whether it is another decoy.”
Donina and her Guards made one mistake as they reined up and looked back to check their pursuers. The decoy to the north had not been followed and now headed back to the road to take the patrol from the rear. As the patrol passed they unleashed arrows from their horse bows into the ten guardsmen of Sir Charles.
Donina now headed back to join in the attack, however two of the Guards had been instructed to ride back to the main Guards if they were attacked and now, while they killed his Guards, Sir Charles knew Donina was no longer with those Guards who were attacking his Guards, meaning she was one of the two people heading for the Spragend sea and he immediately gave orders for his main body and the hounds to hunt them down.
Jinny kept dragging Donina’s horse towards the point she agreed to meet the Drunk. It wasn’t easy as Donina kept trying to pull her horse up and Jinny heard the noise of the following Guards moving closer and closer until finally she could see the bay and a small boat.
Looking over her shoulder she could see movement in the trees behind her, and then the Drunk was running towards her from the beach and then stopping as if shot when he saw the chains and gag, “Cut the reins, Drunk; throw her in boat and get us away. We’ve only minutes; they have crossbows and she’s sabotaging us …?” The Drunk slashed the reins with his knife and threw Alisia, chains and all over his shoulder as he started to stagger towards the boat. Jinny stopped to cut the saddlebags loose and then followed the Drunk; vaulted into the boat and put the saddlebags in the stern whilst the Drunk pushed the boat out and leapt in.
The boat was only some 60 foot from the shore when Sir Charles and his Guards arrived and began firing at the boat. Jinny held up the saddlebags as some kind of protection; feeling several bolts hit them as riders tried to force their horses into the sea to get closer and use their horse bows. She would have liked to use Donina as protection but the Drunk still had some feelings.
Sir Charles watched from the sea as they moved away, “They’ve escaped but we’ll find them and kill them. Where is that bitch heading, I wonder?”
“Which bitch, Sir Charles? That bloody Guards leader or Donina. The sooner we find both of them and kill them, the better. Only problem is that, that Guards leader has a brain, and where is that bloody Cat that’s been creating havoc?”
People often think that big Cats don’t swim; perhaps they’re right and paddling doesn’t really count as swimming.
In the Cat’s case, he didn’t care and just followed the boat which once out of the sight turned to the north west and headed for a narrow inlet which eventually measured some eight miles hard rowing. As they neared the inlet the Drunk was feeling in need of several trees to fall on him and that large foaming froth that revived him. Jinny: sick of a spoilt Donina; showed no signs of wanting to remove Donina’s gag or chains; the Drunk’s raised voice finally crept over the laboured sound of the oars, “She needs to drink and breath, Jinny, and so do I for that matter although you would possibly disagree?”
“I’ve had enough of her, Drunk.”
“I’ve had enough as well, Jinny, but I’ve just found a boat that I rode for nigh on eight miles with two of you doing nothing but staring at each other. I can appreciate the gag, Jinny and I’d laughed, if the energy was there, but why the chains?”
“Think for a minute, Drunk. Why was Donina trying to make sure Sir Charles caught up with and killed us and believe me she was!”
“I always believe you, Jinny but what could she hope to achieve, my occasional love? Sir Charles would kill her as quickly as us. He isn’t going to take Martan’s throwaways or is he? Sir Charles didn’t cross Gods’ know how many seas for to kill a concubine. He came here for something else and I don’t have the faintest idea what he came for? You’re supposed to be the thinking person, Jinny, and she’d derailed you as she does others: her only skill; apart from her body is her mouth, and kingdom politics?”
“Assume for a moment, my Drunk, that Sir Charles came for something and it isn’t Donina – why would he pursue Donina to kill her? Why would Donina feel she has something of interest to Sir Charles that would protect her? There are one or more almighty questions here, and Alisia appears to know something that she thinks will see her safe my drunken friend?”
“There is only the baby, Jinny, and that from a concubine who is being replaced by a Princess who will be a King’s wife.”
“Yes, my friendly Drunk but Sir Charles has bigger fish to fry and he will not wish to share his fish and potatoes with Martan’s throwaways.”
“Why does he think this is his Kingdom and does Donina know that?”
“The Matira’s kept the core as Dwarf held and controlled. He tried to control it. It was twisted into something, the still don’t understand. They adopted other species to dilute challenges but control was always with the Matira’s and using people is never a good idea – they tend to object; Droga’s ceased calling themselves Droga’s but Matira’s killing anyone who spoke against them, also fooled no-one. The Matira’s as part of control, drove the Droga’s underground and Chastry erupts, or so they thought. The Droga’s were widespread with ‘Old Magic’ and they protected themselves in ways they knew. The Dwarfs failed to kill them. That is why we have the ‘Old Stock’ and the Cats. Domina can’t keep her mouth shut any more than her bladder but she has learnt something and I prefer not to know, otherwise I will cut her throat for her knowledge.”
“We can’t keep her in chains and gagged. We have move three miles to the second boat on the Matira sea and then finally five miles to the Toshonian Sea to finally pick up the last piece of road – Unchain her.”
Jinny finally unwrapped Domina’s chains and it took a lot of thought to get them from her neck, and as Donina threw herself at Jinny as they chains came off; she again, wrapped them around Donina’s neck.