“What is it, my lord?” asked Hagin.
“Bring them,” ordered Ronsard. “And the pony. At once.”
The gateman dipped his head and ran off to fetch the visitors as instructed. “You have a reason for this, I’ll warrant?” said Theido. Hagin looked on quizzically.
“It may be nothing,” replied Ronsard. “But I seem to remember someone saying that the Prince rode a brown pony the day of the hunt”
“Aye, he did. It was his favorite,” offered Hagin. “What of it? There must be dozens of brown ponies in the region hereabouts.”
“As you say, but two do not ride unless there is some urgency, and they do not arrive at the castle with demands for the King.”
“I see what you mean,” said Theido. “But do you think this can possibly have anything to do with us?”
“That we will quickly discover, I think.” He looked across the yard where the gatekeeper approached leading a pony; two hesitant figures trailed behind.
In a moment the gateman had brought the visitors-a thin gangly boy and a slump-shouldered man-and their mount to stand before the knights and the warder. “Here they are, sirs. As you requested.”
“Tinker, we meet again,” said Ronsard. “Hagin, would you examine the horse? I think some of us may know this animal.”
“We ‘uns did not steal it, yer lordship,” replied Pym. “But how do ye know me?”
“I was the wretch whose head was broken at the Gray Goose the night the King’s temple was pulled down.”
Pym’s eyes opened wider in recognition; he nodded knowingly. “Same as what happened to me not three hours ago.”
“This is the Prince’s mount and no doubt.” Hagin patted the pony’s neck. “That’s the Prince’s saddle and tack. The animal came from the King’s stables-that is a fair certainty. If you like, I will call the stablemaster. He would know better than anyone else.”
“That will not be necessary,” said Ronsard. He looked at the two before him. “Well? You had better tell us all about it.”
“I found him, sir,” said Renny in a small, awed voice. Here he was in the inner ward yard of Askelon Castle where knights and horses, squires and men-at-arms hurried to ready themselves as for battle; he could hardly take it all in. “He came into our field below the forest. I caught him.”
“The pony?” Ronsard smiled; light twinkled in his eyes. “I see. And then what did you do?”
Before the boy could answer, Pym broke in. “I’ll tell ye what he did. He saved my life, that’s what he did. We’uns-”
“You and the boy?”
“Me and Tip, sir,” said Pym, motioning to the dog.
“I see. Go on.”
“We ‘uns were bound fer Askelon and were set upon by highwaymen and brigands-leastwise I thought they were highwaymen and brigands, I did.”
“Highwaymen?” asked Theido. “In this part of Mensandor?”
Pym nodded vigorously. “They caught me and took the sword.”
“They took your sword?” asked Ronsard. “When does a tinker have need to carry a sword?”
“Not my sword, yer lordship,” explained Pym. “The King’s sword!”
FORTY
THEIDO WAS the first to react to the news. “You found the King’s sword?”
Pym nodded solemnly; Renny nodded, too, and Tip wagged her tail. “We ‘uns found it in the road days ago now…” He lapsed into silence remembering what else they had found.
“Next to the body of a man-isn’t that right?” prompted Ronsard.
Pym nodded slowly and thrust his hands out. “But we ‘uns had nothing to do with that! No, sir. Nivver lifted hand against any man me whole life long. No, nivver did.”
“We believe you, tinker,” said Theido. “What you have told us fits with what we already know. What did you do with the sword when you found it?”
“Hid it, sir. We ‘uns hid it in a hollow tree, we did. A hazelnut tree in the forest. But we ‘uns did not as much as know it were the King’s sword-not at first.”
“But when you found out, you went back for it. Is that right?” Ronsard had formed a picture in his mind about what must have happened-the tinker coming upon the sword in the road, frightened, hiding the weapon and coming to town, hearing the talk, and determining to bring back the sword. “You intended giving it back to the King?”
“Yes, sir, very much. That’s what we’uns planned all along-well, maybe not at first. Didn’t know it was the King’s sword at first. No, didn’t know that.”
“Who took it from you?” asked Theido. “You mentioned highwaymen.”
“Six of them there were. Two passed while we ‘uns rested aside of the road. Then three more-nivver paid me no mind-but the last one nearly knocked me down in the road, he did-came a’charging along that way. We ‘uns nivver seen him ‘til he pitched to a halt. Then ‘twas he saw the sword and took it. I hanged on as mighty as I could, but he caught me a blow or two on the jaw.” Pym rubbed the swollen bruise gingerly. “This ‘un here”-he indicated Renny-“saved old Pym’s hide, he did. He rescued me, and him just a lad-but with spunk, yes sir! Lots o’ spunk has he. Yes, and he flew into them and sent them slinking away like a pack of mangy curs!”
Ronsard regarded the boy closely. “Is this true, young master? You defended the tinker here from the brigands?”
Renny nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
“Brave lad,” remarked Theido. “Well done. Not many would take on six armed men alone and with no weapons. What made you do it?”
Renny opened his mouth, and the words tumbled out. “I’m going to be a knight, sir. Knights are brave and help those as needs help.”
“Indeed!” Ronsard agreed. “But were you not afraid?”
“No, sir. Not until Pym told me who they were.”
“Oh? You know who they were, Pym?” Theido leaned forward.
“We’uns heard a name-the one as took the sword. It was-”
“Let me guess,” put in Ronsard. “Ameronis?”
“The very one!” cried Pym. “That’s the very one. And a mean one he is, sir. Mean as the night is long. Yes, he is.”
“I thought so!” said Ronsard. “Well, here is our battle, already drawn for us. There can be no doubt where the rook has taken his prize.”
Theido pulled his chin and gazed out across the yard. “To that snuggery of his on the Sipleth.” He turned to Ronsard. “That is settled, then; we prepare not for a search but a siege!”
After receiving the letter of ransom, Quentin had taken to his bed in despair; he had not moved all day. Paralyzed by a crippling helplessness, he lay as one stricken with the disease which turns the limbs to stone. The letter had been his son’s death foretold, for he no longer had the Shining One to give the kidnappers, and not enough time to find it in any event.
Now, because of his transgression, because of his striking down the wretch in the road, he would lose his son and heir, and his throne as well. But what did that matter? He had already lost his truest friends: Durwin dead, Toli driven away and captured; even his Queen left him alone in his hour of greatest torment. But beyond all this, the pain that cut him deepest was the knowledge that the Most High had removed his hand from him and was now pouring out a heavy judgment upon him.
The judgment was more than he could bear.
There came a rap on his chamber door, and though Quentin did not move or attend the sound in any way, the door swung open. A tall, lanky figure entered the darkened room and came to stand beside the bed.
“Sire,” said Theido, “all is in readiness.”
The King did not answer.
Theido stood looking sadly down on his friend for a moment, then said, “We are waiting for you to lead us.” He had been about to say that they were leaving now, but Quentin’s condition shocked him and he thought to try to rouse the King. For an instant he thought the ploy might work.
Quentin turned his head on his pillow; his eyes focused on Theido’s face. “They are going to kill my son,” he said softly, “and I am to blame.”