But the young man looked supremely unworried by the prospect.
Horace, meeting Tennyson's eyes, smiled at him. Tennyson was struck by a feeling that he had seen him before as well. But at their previous encounter, he had paid little attention to Horace, who had been dusty, travel stained and roughly dressed as a hired guard. Now, resplendent in chain mail and the surcoat of the Sunrise Warrior, he was an entirely different character.
`The combat will take place in three days' time,' Halt announced, speaking so that the entire assembly could hear him. He had no need to ask Horace if that timing suited him. Horace was always ready, he knew.
Tennyson tore his glance away from Horace and regarded Halt once more.
`Agreed,' he said.
The crowd broke out in cheers once more. A public trial by combat would mean a holiday – with the added attraction of the opportunity to see at least one man killed.
Halt glanced at Sean, who gestured to the escort to form around him. Then they marched off the platform and, shoving through the cheering, jostling crowd, they headed up the hill back to the castle. As they made their way, they became aware of a chant spreading through the town.
`Hail Ferris! Long live the King! Hail Ferris! Long live the King!'
Horace grinned sidelong at Sean.
`So that's the way to win the crowd's loyalty. Throw them a few violent deaths.'
`At least,' Sean replied, 'there's no way Ferris can go back on it now. The mob would tear him to pieces if he did.'
They made their way back to the castle and into the throne room. As their escort took up positions outside the throne room, Sean ordered one of them to fetch hot water, soap and towels. Then he followed Halt and Horace into the large inner room.
Halt crossed quickly to the small robing annexe. Gesturing for Sean and Horace to remain outside, he pulled the heavy curtain aside and entered. As he did, he could hear faint, muffled thuds coming from the large wardrobe where Ferris was concealed. Opening the door, he dragged his bound and gagged brother out of the wardrobe by his collar, leaving him sprawled on the floor. Ferris, red faced and with eyes bulging, was trying to shout abuse at his brother. But the gag was a good one and the only sound was a series of muffled, unintelligible grunts. Halt, who had worn the saxe knife under his brocade cloak, produced the heavy, gleaming blade now and held it before Ferris's nose.
`Two choices, brother. I either cut your gag and ropes, or I cut your throat. You choose.'
Ferris's grunting became more impassioned than before and he strained against the restraints fastening his hands and feet. He stopped abruptly as Halt moved the blade closer to his face.
`That's better,' Halt told him. 'Now just keep it quiet or you're a dead man. Understand?'
Eyes wide with fright, Ferris nodded frantically.
`You're learning,' Halt told him. 'Now I'm going to cut you free. And you will keep quiet. If you even begin to yell out, I'll kill you. Understood?'
Halt watched him for a few seconds, making sure that the King had grasped the position. Ferris was only too willing to agree. After all, in Halt's position, he would have had no hesitation in killing his own brother.
Carefully, Halt cut him free and waited while Ferris rubbed his wrists to relieve the discomfort caused by the tight binding. The King looked up at his brother. There was nothing but malice in his eyes.
`How long do you think you can keep this up? You won't get away with this, Halt!' he said.
But Halt noted that, in spite of the animosity, Ferris was careful to keep his voice down. He smiled grimly at him.
`I've already got away with it, Ferris. You're committed now. I've made sure of it.'
`Committed? How? Committed to what?'
`You're committed to supporting the Sunrise Warrior in trial by combat against two of Tennyson's henchmen. I made the announcement on your behalf in front of the entire town. You're quite the popular figure as a result,' he added mildly.
`I won't go through with it!' Ferris said. His voice started to rise but a quick frown from Halt made him lower his tone. 'I'll call it off!'
`You do and the mob will tear you to pieces,' Halt warned him. 'They're very keen on the idea. You should have heard them shouting "Long live the King". It was very touching, really. I imagine they've never said that before.'
`I'll contact Tennyson! I'll tell him…' He stopped. Halt was shaking his head.
`I doubt he'll talk to you. You defied him in public. You challenged him. You belittled him. You called him a charlatan and a mountebank, if memory serves me. Worst of all, you went back on your agreement with him. No, your, majesty, you're committed to defeating Tennyson because if you don't, he will surely kill you.'
Realisation was slowly dawning in Ferris's eyes as he saw how Halt had closed the trap around him. His only course now was to go along with his brother and hope that the young warrior who accompanied him could defeat not one but two men in personal combat. Halt decided it was time to force the point well and truly home.
'ou're caught, Ferris. Call off the combat and the mob will kick you off the throne. If they don't, Tennyson will kill you. And if he doesn't, I will. Understand?'
Ferris's eyes dropped from Halt's and he shook his head from side to side. Eventually, he said in a low voice, 'I understand.'
Halt nodded. 'Good. Look on the bright side. If we succeed, you'll have your throne back, and your people will love you – at least until you start behaving like yourself again.'
But Ferris had nothing more to say.
`Sean! Is that hot water here?' Halt called through the curtain.
Sean and Horace hurried into the robing room, bearing a bowl of hot water, several towels and soap. They glanced at the despondent figure of the King and Halt explained what had gone between them.
`I think it might be safer if the King is kept out of sight for the next few days,' he said. 'Perhaps confined to hischambers with a nasty fit of the ague. Can you organise that, Sean? It'd be better if Ferris and I weren't seen together too often, now that Horace has savaged my poor beard.'
Sean nodded. 'I have people I trust who'll help,' he said. 'There's more than one has wanted to see the King do something about the situation we're in. They'll lend a hand.'
`Good. Just keep him quiet until the day of the combat. I take it you can organise the details for that?'
`We'll need stands for the crowd and an arena,' Sean said, his brow furrowed. 'Pavilions for the combatants and so on. I'll take care of it.'
`I'll leave that to you. Horace and I will go into smoke for the next few days. How can we contact you if we need to?'
Sean thought for a few seconds. 'There's a sergeant of the garrison called Patrick Murrell. He's a former retainer of mine. Contact him and he'll get a message to me.'
`That's it then.' Halt looked at his brother, still sitting hunched on a low stool. 'Ferris, look up and listen to me. I want you to understand something.'
Reluctantly, Ferris dragged his eyes up to his brother's. Then he stared into them, like a bird watching a snake as it slowly draws closer.
`This is your only chance of remaining King. I've told you I have no wish to take the throne and I mean it. If things work out, you'll be safe. But if you try to sabotage us, if you betray us, if you try to contact Tennyson and make some last-minute deal, I will find you. And the first you'll know I'm around is just before you drop dead, when you see my arrow standing out from your heart. Is that clear?'
`Yes.' Ferris's voice was barely a croak.
Halt drew a. deep breath and let it out again. Dismissing the King from his thoughts, he turned to Horace.