‘They say — ’ Josse thought it better not to mention the queen — ‘that there is a group of knights on the island and that they are involved in foul practices. Devil worship, apparently, and the abuse of young boys.’
The man was rigid with tension. ‘What else?’ he demanded.
Josse hesitated. Then, for there seemed to be no choice, ‘It is said the late king is involved.’
Now the man relaxed. Nodding, looking knowingly up at Josse with a sardonic smile, he said, ‘And she’s sent you to find out if it’s true.’ Josse did not reply. ‘Oh, it’s true all right.’
Josse said, ‘Tell me.’
The man did not speak for some moments. He got up and stepped over to the door and, as Josse moved aside, opened it the merest crack and peered out. Satisfied, he shut it again, barred it and resumed his seat on the bench. Then, as if he had to get on with his tale before his resolve evaporated, he said in a low, swift mutter, ‘There’s this knight, Philippe de Loup. He’s got a stronghold on the island, a castle that’s more like a fortress, right up on the north-west tip, where the winds blow and the sea frets come up like will-o’-the-wisps and hide the evil that’s done there. They call it World’s End and I tell you, they’re right. Nobody goes there unless they have to — it’s haunted, it is, and we all avoid the place like it were the devil’s own.’
‘I was told there was a group of them,’ Josse said. ‘This de Loup’s companions must go there.’
‘Oh, they do,’ the guard agreed. Leaning closer, he said, ‘They call themselves the Knights of Arcturus, although other folk refer to them as the Thirteen Nobles. They keep themselves to themselves, I’ll give them that, but it’s the way of it that people who make a dead secret of their comings and goings are always the subject of far more gossip and speculation than those who live their lives in the open for all to see.’
‘I’ve never heard of either title,’ Josse said.
‘No, well, they’re secret, like I say,’ the guard said testily. ‘Few folk have heard of them, for all that they’ve been around for a hundred years or more.’ His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. ‘They guard something too terrible to be spoken aloud.’
‘I see.’ Josse wondered exactly where accuracy stopped and fear-fuelled local folklore began. ‘So how does all this involve… er, involve the important person who is recently deceased?’
The guard frowned momentarily, as if working out what Josse meant. Then, the cynical smile back on his face, he said, ‘Oh, him. Well, they were here, de Loup and his knights, back in March. Towards the beginning of March, as I recall.’ A few weeks before King Richard died, Josse thought. ‘They came by night and the weather was foul, with a westerly blowing hard and seas as high as they come around here. I’ll give those knights credit for their seamanship and their courage, I’ll tell you that — you wouldn’t have caught me crossing the straits on a night like that. Anyway, they landed safely and set off at a fast pace out across the island to de Loup’s fortress. Something terrible happened that night. Screams were heard coming from the tower, dreadful, horrifying, agonized screams, enough to make a man’s blood freeze in his body, and through the arrow slits in the room above that great fortified entrance there poured a brilliant, unearthly blue light that suddenly changed to blood red.’ He sat back with a nod, as if to say, what do you make of that?
Josse was thinking hard. Screams were heard, he repeated to himself. Who heard them? But perhaps now was not the moment to ask. ‘Go on,’ he said neutrally.
The guard blinked in surprise. Josse wondered if he had expected a more awed response to his tale. ‘Later that night, three men were seen riding away,’ he said. ‘One was tall and thin, fairish, like; one was short and lightly built; the third was broad in the shoulder, a big man. All three wore dark cloaks and pulled their hoods forward to conceal their faces. They raced across to the lee side of the island, where a small boat was waiting, abandoned their horses and climbed in. The boat set out instantly and they were rowed out to a larger craft standing off in the sheltered waters at the northern end of the straits. As soon as they were safely aboard, she raised her anchor, set sail and swiftly disappeared off into the night.’ He fixed Josse with intent dark eyes. ‘The broad-shouldered man was King Richard.’
Dear God in heaven, Josse thought. For this man to state such a frightful thing with absolute certainty, he must be very sure of his facts. He said, ‘You tell me that screams “were heard”, and three men “were seen”. Who heard? Who saw? Is this witness truthful?’
The guard grinned. ‘I guessed you’d try that,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you who heard the screams and saw that dreadful, unnatural light: it was my brother. He gets supplies in for de Loup and he’d done so that day. He went to meet the knights when they crossed by night from the mainland and he followed them up to World’s End.’
‘Why?’
‘He had his reasons.’ The guard, it seemed, was not to be drawn.
‘And your brother identified one of these fleeing men as King Richard?’
There was a pause. Then, as if he had not heard or was ignoring the question, the guard said, ‘That little boat was scarcely up to riding the waves, you know. It took someone who has known these waters man and boy to row her safely out to the ship. It was all very well at first, because close in to shore the bulk of the island kept off the worst of the gale. Once we were out in the straits, it was a different matter and all three of them had to start bailing if they wanted to save their own skins.’
‘“Once we were in the straits”?’ Josse repeated, pouncing on the word.
The guard gave him a quizzical look. ‘Paying attention, aren’t you? I like that when I’m telling a tale.’ Then, abruptly turning from sarcasm to fierce intensity, ‘It was me who saw the king. It’s not easy to bail and keep your face hidden, but he almost managed it. Then he straightened up — muscle pain, I guess, for he had a hand in the small of his back — and he’d got his foot on the hem of that great cloak. Just for an instant, the hood was pulled sideways and I saw his face as clear as I see yours.’
‘I thought you said it was pitch dark and a storm was blowing?’ Josse said. ‘How was it that there was light to see by?’
‘We were coming alongside the ship by then,’ the guard said smugly. ‘They were leaning down over the side with flaring torches so that I could see where the ladder had been lowered.’
Oh, God.
For some time there was silence in the cold, musty little room. Josse was struggling to absorb what he had just been told, wondering frantically if the man could be lying and then dismissing the idea; why on earth make up such a dangerous story? What would be the point? Suddenly he thought he might have answered his own silent question.
‘Where is your brother?’ he asked.
‘Hmm?’ The guard started out of his reverie. Then, with a scowl, ‘Dead.’
‘Dead?’
The man was shaking his head. ‘I told him not to!’ he moaned. ‘I said, “Don’t you mess with the likes of Philippe de Loup, for there’ll only be one outcome if you do,” but he didn’t listen.’
‘So you mean,’ Josse said slowly, thinking it out, ‘that your brother followed de Loup and the knights to this fortress of his that night because he suspected they were up to no good? He spied on them in the expectation of seeing something he shouldn’t and then attempted to make them pay for his silence?’
‘That’s about it, yes,’ the guard agreed. ‘For all the good it did him,’ he added miserably. ‘Now there’s his rat-faced wife and his snot-nosed brats for me to care for, as if my own weren’t enough.’
Josse hardly heard. ‘But surely de Loup knows of your involvement?’ he said. ‘Why has he not ensured your permanent silence too?’
The guard gave a deep sigh. ‘Because he doesn’t know I was there. He thought my brother would see to the arrangements, just like he always did. It was only ever him.’ Another sigh.