“Who killed him?”
“We think he was betrayed by someone he was conspiring with.”
“Yes,” Saldur agreed. “That’s how things look.”
“Wasn’t there a note? Something about a group of women taking credit?” Leo asked.
“Oh yes, some foolishness suggesting a house of prostitution was involved,” Saldur said. “Obviously a poor attempt at diversion.”
“I would have to agree with the bishop, Your Majesty,” Braga added. “I’m continuing the investigation, but the women mentioned in the note don’t appear to have had anything to do with it. Medford House is literally a handful of women struggling to survive in an alleyway. The madam of the house was recently battered by Exeter during an investigation the high constable was conducting. This appears to have been the source of the charade, but that’s where it ends. The real killer was just trying to throw us off his scent.”
“But the women of Medford House were arrested?” Leo said.
Braga raised his hands and shook his head in a show of frustration. “The sheriffs are Lord Exeter’s men and some can actually read. You can hardly blame them. At the time his body was found, his treachery was not yet known. They acted in haste-without knowing the facts or about the constable’s guilt. I’m just grateful they didn’t kill anyone. I’ve already given the order for the women’s release.”
“I think we need to do more than that,” Saldur said. “These poor girls have been treated badly, and while we know they weren’t involved, rumors are already spreading. People think they were responsible for the wanton slaughter of a high-ranking nobleman and relative of the king.”
“And the killer of my wife,” Amrath reminded them.
“Of course, excuse me. It’s just that people might be angry to think someone of their social standing might do such a thing and get away with it.”
“How would it be if I knighted them?” the king said, not entirely joking.
Saldur offered an uncomfortable smile. “I think just some declaration of royal protection would suffice.”
“I suppose we could issue an edict and instruct the sheriffs to actually enforce it,” Braga said. “It’s my understanding that crimes against women in that profession often have a blind eye turned by those entrusted with keeping the peace in the quarter.”
“Do as you want,” Amrath said to the chancellor. “I really don’t care. Now what about Richard Hilfred?”
“He is dead as well, Your Majesty, by my own blade, the night of the fire,” Braga said.
“Well done, Chancellor,” Leo exclaimed, and it was followed by rousing applause by all in attendance.
Braga bowed his head respectfully and humbly, but his pride was evident. Amrath had been right in appointing his brother-in-law to the position. At least one member of the council had done something of value that evening.
“Richard Hilfred…” the king muttered. “He saved my life once. It’s hard to believe.”
“I knew Richard Hilfred well,” Saldur said. “He often came to me with concerns about his life-and Richard was a very troubled man.”
“Don’t you dare try and excuse him.” Amrath tore at his beard, pulling until it hurt.
“Absolutely not, sire. I would never-but as his bishop, I listened to him confide his many personal troubles with me and often mentioned his great sadness at the death of Rose Reuben-something he blamed you for not preventing. Still, I never suspected he would go so far.”
“So Exeter and Hilfred are dead,” Amrath said. “But that doesn’t explain the queen’s death. Why is it that no one woke her? No one thought to get her out? How is it all of you stand before me without a scratch or a burn?”
With each word the king’s voice grew louder until the roar of the bear had returned and his hand had settled on the pommel of his sword.
There was a long pause.
“Your Majesty,” Braga began softly. “We tried.”
“How hard is it to run up a set of stairs?”
“Before setting the fire, Richard Hilfred chained the doors to the residence shut. He thought you and your family were inside. His plan was to kill all of you. I tried … please believe me, Your Majesty. After killing Richard Hilfred, I did everything I could to get the doors open, but it was useless. As the fire grew, I was pulled from the inferno by two guards. There simply was nothing that anyone could do.”
He chained the doors shut?
If the conversation continued, Amrath didn’t hear what was said. It was as if he were falling into a bottomless well. All he could think of was his wife and daughter, trapped as the castle burned, and all the times he had offered a kind word to a man who chained them in to die. The mention of his daughter’s name pulled him out. “What was that?”
Leo spoke. “I was asking how it was that Arista survived?”
Braga said, “It was Richard Hilfred’s boy. He carried the princess out.”
“Hilfred’s son saved my daughter?”
“But how?” Leo again. “If the doors were chained, how did a boy manage to do what none of you could?”
“Reuben Hilfred had a key,” Braga said.
There was a silence as everyone paused to consider this.
“It’s likely the son was in league with the father,” Saldur said.
“Did he perish in the fire as well?” Amrath asked.
Braga said, “He escaped but suffered severe burns and is being cared for by a healer. It may be days until we know what really happened. He’s unconscious and under guard.”
“But if he was in league with his father, why did he save Arista?” Amrath asked.
“We don’t know.”
“I say he should be executed,” Saldur said. “I’ve seen this many times, the poison of the father infects the son. Likely the boy’s guilt drove his actions, and it was only fear of Novron’s judgment that motivated his saving of the princess. Such a tragedy.” Saldur shook his head. “If only you had listened to me, sire, the queen might yet live.”
There it was again, the accusation that all this was his fault. Amrath pulled the great sword of Tolin Essendon from its sheath. The huge blade came out easily and the king wanted nothing more than to sever the bishop’s head from his shoulders.
He took a step forward, raising the blade and watching the bishop’s eyes widen in horror as he inched backward. An instant later, Leo’s shimmering blade lifted his own and forced it aside. “Amrath … he didn’t mean it.”
The king fumed, his chest rising and falling with his breath, which hissed through his teeth. He stared at Saldur, who fell backward, tripping on the blackened timbers, rain splattering his grandfatherly face. That fall saved his life.
“Go on, Sauly, say this is my fault one more time!” This wasn’t a bear growl; this was a roar. “I’ll cleave you in half and string you up in the square so the peasants can have a new corpse to gawk at!”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I only-”
“Shut up, Bishop,” Leo said, still holding the massive Tolin blade with his own slender rapier. “If you want to live to draw another breath, just be quiet and leave.”
Saldur got to his feet, surprisingly fast given his age, and retreated out of the ruined room.
Leo put his sword away, and the great Essendon blade lowered until the tip touched the floor. Then in a sudden burst of rage, Amrath raised it again and with a shout he cleaved through one of the more substantial oak beams, only partially chewed by the fire. The massive blade rang as it slew the wood in two. The king struck again and again in a mad fury, chipping hunks of wood, such that both Leo and Braga backed away. In a few minutes the fit ended and Amrath stood heaving in a shower of sweat and rain. He dropped his sword, fell to his knees, and covered his face. “I should have been here.”
“You would have only died along with her,” Leo said, his voice as soft as the patter of the rain.
“I should have. It would be better than this.”
“The land would be without a king.”
“Bugger the land! My son would rule.”