“They’re going to hunt me down like a dog, Glynnie. And even if I could escape them, I can’t take you to war.”
“I thought you were going to find a place to build an army.”
“I am.” Why hadn’t he told her about Garramide? If he mentioned it now it would only infuriate her more.
“That’ll take weeks, even months. Why do you want to get rid of me now?”
“You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. I don’t want to get rid of you. But I don’t want you in danger, either.”
“Hightspall is at war. Wherever you banish me to, I’ll be in danger.”
He ground his teeth. “Not as much as if you were with me.”
“Your refuge in the mountains — it’ll be a castle or fortress, I assume.”
“Yes, a place with strong defences.”
“And you’ll have soldiers to help you defend it?”
“As many as I can round up. Hundreds, hopefully.”
“And dozens of servants to manage daily life in the fortress?”
“I’ll need servants, and you’re not going to be one of them.”
“What’s wrong with me? If you can fight for our country, why can’t I?”
“You’re going, and that’s that.”
“Arrogant pig!” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Madam Canty was right about you,” she snapped. “There’s nothing noble about you; you’re not even a gentleman’s… backside.” She galloped ahead.
He gave her fifteen minutes, then rode up beside her. “It’s still no.”
Her shoulders sagged. “What about Tyne’s lady? What’s she like?”
“Tall, bony, sharp tongued, but underneath it all, Felmae is a kindly woman.”
“I suppose she’ll have to do, then. How long have I got?”
“Before we get there? About five minutes.”
“You… you bastard!” she shrieked, so self-consciously that he was sure she’d never used the word before. “Why didn’t you tell me we were so close?”
“Must have slipped my mind,” he lied.
“You’re a stinking liar, Deadhand.” She wrenched her horse’s head around and faced him, a compact ball of fury dwarfed by the enormous horse. Glynnie swallowed the fury with an effort and said calmly, “At least your treachery has solved one problem.”
“What’s that?” Rix said uneasily.
“I hate you! I’m glad to be getting rid of you, you great arrogant lump. And… and, if you should ever come by to visit me, not that you would, I won’t be in.”
She turned away, evidently thinking she had won a great victory.
It was snowing gently as they rode up a winding track between small, leafless trees. Granite boulders dotted the slopes to either side and the air was very still, with a hint of wood smoke.
“It’ll be nice to relax by the fire with old friends,” said Rix. “And sleep in a proper bed.”
“Are you staying the night, then? I thought you’d dump me and run away to play at your wars.”
Rix felt his jaw muscles tighten. “You never let up, do you?”
“Surely you didn’t think I was going to make it easy for you, Deadhand?”
Rix couldn’t take any more. He spurred his horse and galloped ahead, up the hill, around a tight corner where the trees grew so closely together that they made a black wall to either side, then down a straight drive. Ahead were the simple, elegant lines of the old keep, built in pink granite a thousand years ago. The smell of wood smoke was stronger here, and he soon saw why. The manor behind the keep was a smoking ruin.
He careered down the track. It need not mean what he feared. The keep was strong; a hundred people could hold up there for weeks. But as he came closer Rix saw that its doors had been smashed in. A trail of smoke still issued from inside, as though the last combustible items had almost been consumed.
He was staring numbly at the hacked bodies of the lord and lady of Corkyle when Glynnie reached him. Many other bodies were scattered around them, but not all looked as though they had been killed in battle. Several, including the lady, appeared to have been cut down after they had surrendered.
They searched the keep and the ruins but found not a living soul. Not even children had been spared. Yet the manor had not been looted. Most of its artworks and other treasures had been burned or hacked to pieces, as if the intention of the raid had not been conquest, but simple, bloody destruction of all that had been built here.
“Why would the enemy do this?” said Rix.
“They hate us.”
If he’d left Glynnie here a day ago, she would have been one of the butchered. His eyes moistened; he had not appreciated how dear she had become to him. He turned away and she went with him.
“I’m sorry, Lord,” she said quietly. “To see your friends like that must be the worst thing in the world.”
“They were good people. They never hurt anyone.”
“Do you want to bury them?”
Rix put a hand on the hilt of Maloch and felt a shock that jolted his hand into the air.
“What was that?” whispered Glynnie.
“A warning. Maloch keeps doing that. We’re in danger and it’s getting closer.”
“We have to go, don’t we?”
“The least I could do would be to honour my friends with a respectable burial, and I can’t even do that. It’d take a day to dig graves in this rocky ground. Come on.”
“Where are you going?” said Glynnie.
Previously she would have said, Where are we going? Had she given up?
He balanced his sword on a rock, and spun it.
Glynnie checked the angle of the sun. “Maloch always points in the same direction, north-east. What’s it pointing to?”
“There’s a fortress called Garramide. A very old place, high up.”
She stared at him. “Lady Ricinus talked about Garramide.” Her green eyes narrowed. “Wasn’t it — ?”
“It’s mine,” Rix admitted.
“But you lost it when House Ricinus fell.”
“No, it’s still legally mine. I inherited it last year from a great-aunt who had nothing to do with House Ricinus, so not even the chancellor could confiscate it.”
“And you’ve known this all along,” she said, sparks flashing in her eyes. “When did you propose to tell me? Or were you going to dispose of me first, so I’d never know?”
“Not all along. I’d forgotten I owned it.”
It was the wrong thing to say. “How could you forget you owned a manor?” she shrieked.
“When I was heir to House Ricinus, I stood to inherit a hundred manors,” he said lamely. “What difference does it make? You know now.”
“I thought we were the same,” she said bitterly. “Two people who’d lost everything, working together like friends, just trying to survive. But we were never the same; you’ve been acting under false pretences.”
“I don’t understand what’s bothering you,” said Rix.
“That makes it even worse,” she screamed. “If I had one lousy brass chalt in my purse, I couldn’t forget I had it — yet the great Lord Rixium is so stinkingly rich he forgets he owns a manor! No wonder you want to get rid of me. There’s no place for me in your world.”
And she broke down and wept.
Rix stood there awkwardly, trying to work out why she was so upset. I thought we were the same. Did she think he was rejecting her, or repudiating what had grown between them during the escape and the journey?
Or did it go deeper? She was no fool; she knew that wealthy lords often dallied with maids, but they never took them as equal partners. Yes, that had to be it.
What was he going to do about it? There was a vast gulf between them, but not the way she imagined it. Glynnie was strong and brave, but she was also an innocent, while Rix felt old and tainted. In no way was he worthy of her. Besides, any friend, any partner of his would be in as much danger as he was, and he wasn’t going to inflict that on her.
He let out an almighty groan. “I’m sorry, Glynnie.”
She wiped her eyes, squared her shoulders and looked up, the good servant again. “Forget I said anything, Lord. I was just being silly. Emotional. It… losing Benn, and everything… it’s all been a bit much. And here’s you with your friends murdered… I’m sorry.”