Gabriella kept her mind centred as she rode into the little village that was at the heart of the estate. Inside, her stomach played host to a whole swarm of butterflies. It wasn't fear of a fight or even of someone in one of those narrow little doorways with a bow. She was still on a high from the clash with the mercenaries and damn well looking forward to more victory. Yet her nerves felt more like fear of disappointment.
What, she wondered, if he had made good his escape while his mercenary guards were buying his life with their blood and she was now just about to discover the extent of her failure to serve?
She could hear the hoof beats of Erak, Oaks, Komo and Tanner's mounts a short distance behind her and the rattle of the soldiers' weapons and armour, and they reassured her.
She rode slowly past the tiny church, admiring the simplicity and beauty of its architecture, and was angered at the thought that something so positive in the world would need to be re-consecrated after being used by the Brotherhood.
People were appearing in the doorways of the little houses. They were all men, and all carried weapons. They stepped out into the street, glaring with obvious hostility, but didn't attack yet. Behind her, the soldiers spread out, making sure a trained man was always in the way of each of the most dangerous-looking of the townsfolk.
There was a sudden clatter from a large house at the end of the road, but Gabriella couldn't see what had caused it. Realising it must have been a back door, she galloped forward and around the house. Half a dozen men in servants' livery were running up a narrow trail, carrying short swords. Further up the trail, a single horse was pulling a two-wheeled trap. She overtook it easily, the other mounted Knights following her and surrounding the trap, which was forced to a halt.
The horse pulling the trap shied nervously, but didn't try to break through, even though the fat man on the driver's bench was whipping it frantically. Gabriella knew that horses had to be trained to run at other animals or people, and this one clearly hadn't been.
She dismounted and snatched the whip from his hand. She could almost feel the horse's sense of relief.
"Karel Scarra, I presume," Gabriella began, stopping in front of him. In her peripheral vision, she could see the townspeople close in. They probably thought they were being intimidating and didn't realise they were giving her an audience to play off. She could hear Erak and the others taking up positions behind her, but didn't bother looking round. She had known Erak since they were twelve year-old squires together and trusted him to be in the right place at the right time.
"That's right," Scarra said. His voice was measured and jovial, but his eyes were wide, the smile a little too fixed. He stepped down in front of her and backed away. "This is one of Makennon's harridans," he called out to the crowd. He looked at Erak. "So, you've come to accuse me of something, I suppose?" Erak stayed silent, to Gabriella's satisfaction.
"Is there something you feel guilty about?" Gabriella asked.
Scarra looked toward Erak again, then to Tanner, to Oaks and to Komo, but none of the men would speak to him.
"Perhaps there's some reason you think a woman shouldn't be talking to you? Or at least a woman in religious service?"
"The Lord Of All needs no woman to spread his word," Scarra snarled. "Only to spread his worshippers."
Gabriella grinned. The man was an idiot. "There's only one worshipper who I want to spread right now. As ashes." The crowd shifted, unsettled. "Just one," she repeated. A few eyes darted between her and Scarra and back.
"She's a witch," Scarra scoffed dismissively. "You know what to do with witches?"
"Burn her!" someone in the mob shouted. A murmur of agreement spread all around.
Gabriella's eyes flicked to the source of the call. A man in green robes recoiled from her gaze and she smiled coldly. "Burning's for heretics, fat man," she said. "Witches are hanged, by the proclamation of the Anointed Lords since time immemorial."
Scarra laughed. "Who cares whether she hangs or burns, as long as the witch is dead?"
Gabriella looked back at him. "Have you seen any heretics lately, Scarra?" Her smile widened slightly, and the murmuring of the crowd took on a more uncertain tone. "Members of the Brotherhood of the Divine Path, for example? Conspirators to assassination?" She surveyed the mob. "So, what think you? If you want to burn someone, then there Karel Scarra stands. If you want to kill me, you'll have to hang me." She smiled coldly. "If you can."
To her left, a few figures began to move and Gabriella gripped the hilts of her swords. Then she realised they were backing off and moving away. A couple of others on the right were doing the same and the men surrounding her were looking uncertain. She pointed to them and snapped "You two!" They froze, startled. "Grab him." She told them.
Looking surprised at themselves, they grabbed hold of Scarra's upper arms and frog-marched him towards her. She could have had soldiers-at-arms do it, but Scarra's own people aiding in his atonement was a better symbol, and one the people here would remember longer.
Gabriella drew a blade and put it to Scarra's throat.
"You could make a martyr out of me," he warned, his voice shaking.
"I could," Gabriella agreed quietly. "Or I could make an example of this village." She let that sink in. "You're not going to tell me you're the one and only member of the Brotherhood here?"
"I'm not going to tell you anything."
"But you'll tell our Confessors a lot."
"What makes you think that, witch?"
"Because you have, shall we say, Brotherly love for your friends here." She gestured towards the townspeople.
His eyes widened in horror as he understood what she was suggesting.
"These people are innocents, employees of my family. They are not…" He swallowed, hard. "They are not complicit in what you and your ilk would call my sins."
"I'm sure most of them aren't. I'm just as sure a few of them are." She paused to let that sink in. "Now, there are two ways we can deal with this situation. You can come with us, have the courage of your convictions and our Confessors will certainly get the relevant names from you for arrest and trial…"
"Or…"
"Or I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the Anointed Lord's decree at the siege of Freiport."
"'Kill them all, the Lord will sort the wheat from the chaff.'" Scarra whispered. He looked at her with revulsion. "You are a monstrous abomination, witch."
Gabriella's leg flashed round and up, a high kick taking him in the face, sending him sprawling. "I'm an angel, sinner. I'm giving you a chance to do your soul some good by saving all these lives."
Scarra spat blood from his split lips and got to his knees. "Very well."
"Good." Gabriella turned and beckoned a couple of soldiers-at-arms to come forward and secure the prisoner. She then rejoined Erak and the other knights. "That's the important bit done. We'll leave some of the soldiers to make sure everyone stays put and have Confessors and reinforcements sent from Andon to take everyone back to the Preceptory for confession. Some of them will be Brotherhood."
"Perhaps one in five, judging by their expressions." Tanner agreed. "I'll see to it. And the estate?"
"These people have been led astray… They need reassurance." One in five of them might belong to the Brotherhood, but Gabriella knew that the rest were victims of the Brotherhood's corruption. They didn't deserve to have their progress towards godliness held back by the minority.
"Guidance?" Oaks chipped in.
Gabriella nodded. "Sequester the estate and all of Scarra's assets for the Faith. These people will earn a more honest living when they're working for a more worthy cause."
CHAPTER 6
Gabriella led Erak into Scarra's house, leaving the other three Knights in charge of the troops and prisoner. A faint scent of Dreamweed hung in the air. The largest room was a lounge filled with plush chairs and lined with bookcases. Small tapestries hung on the panelled walls. A small group of servants stood meekly, watching the pair with noticeable fear. Gabriella dismissed them with a wave.