Ragnar, meanwhile, caught up with his friend and rode alongside him. The journey had a special meaning for him.
“I go to see Toki’s grave to ask for his forgiveness.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Ragnar.”
“I believe there is.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If they had listened to Inga, they would be with us now.”
“Why?”
“She told me how fair-minded Gervase Bret was. He will not break a promise. Safe conduct, that was his guarantee.”
“For all of us, Ragnar. Not just you and me.”
“Do not take it to heart so.”
“Eric and I were like brothers. I cannot believe that he has forgotten all we have been through together. He and the rest of them will not last a week without me.”
“They are frightened, Olaf.”
“So am I.”
They rode on through the darkness at a canter with the stars to guide them. Two miles further along the road, they heard the first menacing clack of hooves. It seemed to come from their left. When they veered off to the right, another drumming sound met their ears.
Pursuers were closing in from both directions. Olaf and Ragnar went up a hill at a gallop and crested it to find thick cover on the slope beyond. Reining in their horses, they sheltered in the bushes in the hope of shaking off the chasing pack.
Fifteen or more horses came pounding over the hill to converge on their hiding place. They seemed to know exactly where to find them.
Olaf drew his sword and Ragnar had his spear at the ready.
A familiar, deep-throated laugh rang out.
“Is that you, Eric?” said Olaf hopefully.
“Yes,” confirmed the other. “You will never get to York alone. We thought you might need an escort.”
Olaf nudged his horse forward to embrace his friend.
“You are with us, then?” he said.
“A few yards behind you at least.”
“You will not regret it.” He waved an arm. “Onward!”
They set off in a tight bunch, drawing strength from their leader, glad to be united again. Eric nudged his horse up alongside Olaf Evil Child.
“We know the real reason for this journey,” he said.
“What is that?”
“You want to see Inga again!”
“I do!” admitted Olaf with a grin. “Who would not?”
“And will this Gervase Bret really help us?”
“He swore as much.”
“I do not doubt his word. Only his ability.”
“He and the others are royal commissioners, Eric. They are here on King William’s business.”
“Yes,” said Eric, “but King William is hundreds of miles away. His army is not here to enforce the decisions of his commissioners. We have another king here.”
“I know. Aubrey Maminot.”
“Can Gervase Bret and his friends prevail over him?”
“They must. Or we are all doomed.”
Aubrey Maminot took a last, guzzling kiss from her before stealing quietly out of the house. It was a short ride across the city and the morning air was refreshing. He felt as blithe and vigorous as a man half his age. She was right about him. He was her lion.
The first cockcrow heralded the approach of dawn, and other voices were soon raised in welcome. Aubrey turned his horse towards a make-shift stable not far from his castle. When the animal was tethered inside, he let himself out and walked towards a clump of thick bushes nearby. Making sure that he was unobserved, he stepped behind the bushes to find a metal door built into a grassy bank. One twist of the key let him in. His horse would be collected as usual by one of his men. Another night of blissful madness had gone as planned.
He needed no light to guide him. Locking the door from the inside by feel, he waddled happily along the tunnel until he came to the steps.
The trapdoor was wide open and two torches were throwing their light onto the cage. Standing ahead of him, ready to welcome his master, was the keeper of the beasts. Aubrey came into the cage and walked over to him.
“Ludovico!” he greeted. “Good morrow, my friend!”
The dead man fell forward into his arms and knocked him backwards. Ralph Delchard had been lifting the Italian up. When Aubrey saw that he was holding a corpse, he dropped him at once and stared down at him in horror.
“What happened?” he gasped.
“Ludovico tried to kill me,” said Ralph.
“Never!”
“The same way that he murdered Tanchelm. With his whip. He picked the wrong man this time.”
“This is terrible,” said Aubrey with apparent concern for his guest.
“Are you all right?”
“No thanks to Ludovico.”
“He attacked you?”
“From behind.”
“He must have thought you were an intruder.”
“He knew exactly who I was, Aubrey.”
“What were you doing?”
“The same as Tanchelm. Being too inquisitive.”
Aubrey gave himself a moment to gather his wits. He was like a commander who has just suffered an unexpected reverse on the battle-field. A new strategy was required. Combat was out of the question.
Ralph was wearing his armour and had a sword in his hand. Aubrey carried only a dagger. Guards could be called but they could not get into the keep past Romulus and Remus. His lions were separating him from help. His lion keeper would never be able to assist him again.
He stepped over the prone body of the Italian.
“Ludovico was stupid,” he said callously. “I told him he would come off second best against Ralph Delchard.”
“So will you, Aubrey.”
“We are not in competition.”
“Yes, we are.”
“We need not be. What is it you want, Ralph?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“Tanchelm’s murder, for a start. Ludovico was the assassin but you set him on. You ordered his death.”
“You will never prove that in a court of law.”
“I will enjoy trying.”
Aubrey chuckled. “You will not even have the chance. Take a closer look into the courtyard. I have hundreds of men at my command. You have a handful. Arrest me, if you must. But you will never get me out of here.”
“Yes, I will.”
“How?”
“The same way that you just came in.”
There was a long pause. Aubrey nodded in admiration.
“You have been inquisitive, Ralph,” he said. “What else did you see down there?”
“Enough.”
“I beg leave to doubt that.”
“It’s your secret entrance to the castle,” said Ralph. “The one you designed when it was rebuilt. Guarded throughout the day by the lions so that nobody will come anywhere near it.” He peered into the gloom.
“By the way, I found no herbs down there, Aubrey. That is a pity. You need something to take away the stink of high treason.”
“Ralph …”
“Tanchelm of Ghent was the first to suspect you.”
“He is gone. Forget him.”
“He was our colleague. His death must be requited.”
“It has been,” said Aubrey. “Ludovico paid in full. That account is settled. We must open a new one now.”
“No, Aubrey. It is all up for you.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“I do not consort with traitors!”
“Is that what you think I am?”
“We know it!”
“Do you?”
Aubrey walked calmly to the side of the cage and leaned against it.
Ralph covered his move with his outstretched sword. The castellan laughed. Taking out his dagger, he tossed it casually onto the floor.
“You do not need a weapon, Ralph. I am unarmed.”
“I will keep it drawn just the same.”
“Do you distrust me so much?”
“Yes.”
“And what charges do you bring against me? Murder? High treason?
I must be the Devil incarnate.”
“No, Aubrey. The Devil is more honest in his wickedness.”
“Let us examine the word ‘traitor,’ shall we?”
“You will examine it at the end of a rope.”
“I think not,” said the other, almost nonchalantly. “A traitor is a man who betrays his country. Is that what I have done, Ralph?”