Priest (Ratcatchers Book 1) (21 page)

“There is still time to act,” Lady Isobel said, her face clouded.

“Did you know the forest won’t let anyone up here?” Heden asked.

All the knights looked at Lady Isobel. Not all of them had heard this.

She took a moment to confess her answer. The priory became cold.

“Yes,” she said flatly, not looking at Heden.

Heden hadn’t expected this. The other knights were frowning. Brys seemed upset.

“You did?” Heden asked. “You knew that and you…”

“How could it be otherwise?” Isobel said. “In any event, it is no matter.”

“That’s a popular attitude around here,” Heden said, looking at Sir Brys.

“You are a cleric,” Lady Isobel said. “I couldst see that e’en had my squire not said the words to me. Of what saint do you avail yourself?”

Heden looked around, unsure of what was going to happen next.

“Saint Lynwen,” he said, and looked away.

“Who?” Sir Brys said.

Lady Isobel raised her eyebrows in appreciation. “Indeed?” she asked, a small smile on her face.

Now it was Heden’s turn to be uncomfortable. Isobel obviously knew who Lynwen was.

“Who was Saint Lynwen?” Aderyn asked, not minding admitting ignorance.

“She was a whore,” Lady Isobel said delicately. “And then a murderess. And then a saint. Never very popular. And only ever has one follower at a time.”

Idris and his men laughed at the idea.

“And always a man,” Isobel said, locking eyes with Heden as the dastards laughed. He was embarrassed, and looked it.

“A saint and a whore,” Cadwyr laughed. “I think I know which our little priest here ‘worships,’” he said, leering. Dywel and Idris joined in. They could not fight him here, but they could laugh at him.

“What…” Aderyn asked, confused. Not knowing how to react to the news. “What does that mean?”

“It means Cavall forgave her,” Heden snapped. He ignored Cadwyr and looked meaningfully at Squire Aderyn. “It means a man is better than the worst thing he’s ever done.”

Heden looked back at the other knights and saw Brys’s eyes unfocus, thinking about Heden’s words. Heden looked back at Lady Isobel. He was shaken.

Trick to you, milady
, Heden thought. And went back on the offensive.

“Okay,” Heden said. “Squire Aderyn told you about me. Sure. You know what I’m here for. Well I know what you’re going to say to me, too. ‘Talk to Taethan.’ Save it. He’s not here. And you know how Kavalen died,” Heden said.

Lady Isobel suddenly stooped as though possessed of the old age he knew she had, and which she heretofore had given no quarter to.

“I’m here to absolve the order of the unrighteous death of Knight-Commander Kavalen,” Heden said formally. “But that’s not going to happen, is it? And you know it.”

“The ritual may yet be spoken,” Lady Isobel said. “The blame upon Sir Taethan’s head, cleric, if it is not.” Everyone was quiet now, watching the two of them intently. Sir Idris has his hand on his sword. Sir Nudd loomed over them all.

“Nono,” Heden said, leaning forward. The air sparked with restrained violence. He knew he was risking his life here. One knight, maybe. But if two tried to take him. “You don’t get out of it that easy. You know. And you could act, and you could save those people. You’re just as responsible as anyone, and you know it.”

“I cannot do what must be done,” Lady Isobel said, it was some kind of admission, and it seemed to be destroying her. Aderyn wasn’t angry at Heden anymore, she was openly worried about Lady Isobel. “I cannot speak the words that must be spoken. The wisest bear the heaviest burden, and so Sir Taethan must act, if he be not crushed under the weight of the knight’s perfection.” It sounded to Heden like a speech she’d practiced.

“And like that,” Heden said, “your sister dies. And all those people.”

“And more besides,” she said quietly. Heden frowned, trying to guess at her meaning. Where would the army of urqs go, after Ollghum Keep? Did she know?

“The Lady Isobel has come the farthest,” Sir Brys said, coming forward and putting a hand on her shoulder. “And overcome great adversity to be here. If we are to proceed with this inquisition, let it be anon, when we are rested.”

“Though your words are crude,” Lady Isobel said to Heden, ignoring Sir Brys. He took his hand away as though stung. “Your bearing is true. You man yourself well,” Lady Isobel said, raising an eyebrow. She was thinking as she was talking. “Many lesser men would be routed by the might assembled here against you. But you hold to your purpose. Squire Aderyn said you cared not for the order, nor even your duty. I know not. But thou carest about the folk of Ollghum Keep. Care about mine sister besides. And for this, we shall honor ye, even whilst thou defame us.”

Sir Brys frowned at this. “I have no sister,” he said. “Ollghum Keep or no. If this man hath come here to speak the ritual, then have him speak it.” Sir Idris nodded. “If he hath come to pass judgment upon us, then he must quit the field. He knows not the traditions or our service. He is not worthy to pass judgment. Priest though he be.”

Brys was setting himself up opposite Lady Isobel. Sir Nudd looked between them. Idris and his knights obviously supported Brys, but this was only because he was saying what they wanted to hear. Even Aderyn seemed confused, not knowing who to listen to.

Lady Isobel was the eldest. But Brys was the second in command. Heden was watching a struggle for control over the Green Order.

“You want me to leave?” Heden said to Brys, but then looked at every knight to make the point. “You tell me what happened to you commander.”

No one spoke. It seemed Brys and Idris were both about to and Heden cut them off.

“And if anyone says ‘Talk to Taethan,” again…” Heden began threateningly.

“No one will say that to you,” a voice behind him rang out like a bell.

Heden knew what to expect when he heard the voice. He turned in his seat. The knight was standing in the archway. Heden couldn’t make him out, he was silhouetted in sunlight.

“For I am here,” he said, his voice young. “Little good though it will do you.”

He was outfitted in gleaming, polished plate. It looked like an antique. His helm was tucked under one arm. Its horns were not as large as Isobel’s but at least as large as Brys’. They were deadly, and covered in blood like the rest.

He carried many weapons. A dagger on his belt as well as a longsword in a scabbard. On his back was slung the same kind of longspear Aderyn had waved at Heden when they met. There was also a quiver of javelins on his back. Heden had seen men walking around with more weaponry on them, but only for show.

He was absurdly handsome. He looked like a figure stepped out of a stained glass window. His fair complexion and fine-boned features would have made Gwiddon envious. It was hard to tell how old he was. Heden guessed, based on what he knew of Aderyn and how long one had to be a squire, he was in his late thirties.

Seeing this knight, tall, young, his green hair hanging straight down to his shoulders, his face honest and open, standing there in his perfectly made and maintained armor made all the other knights look shabby by comparison. Even the Lady Isobel.

Taethan walked up the length of the nave, ignoring everyone in the priory. Heden watched the other knights’ reactions.

Isobel looked distant. As though trying to remove herself from the world around her. Brys showed opened frustration with the knight, as though he wanted to reach out and shake him. Nudd faced away from them all. Idris and his cohort looked disgusted with the knight. For once, it seemed Cadwyr and Dywel didn’t need to look to Idris for a cue.

In every way Heden could tell, Taethan’s ritual at the altar was identical to Isobel’s. Heden was searching for any sign of ‘the perfect knight’ as the others had called him. He certainly looked the part.

When he was done, he did something none of the other knights did. He walked to his crest, three horses rampant, removed his longspear from across his back, and moved to placed it on the brace under his device.

Just before he placed it in the curve of the wooden brace, he turned to look at the other knights, and let the spear drop. None of them reacted.

Taethan walked back down the nave and approached Heden. None of the other knights would look at him.

The knight stood before him, his face open. No sense of judgment on his face. Just looking at Heden. Heden turned and put one arm over the back of the bench, looking up at the knight whose face seemed carved from marble.

“You know what I think?” Heden opened without preamble. No introduction. Taethan didn’t react.

“I think every single knight in this place knows exactly what happened to your commander.”

Taethan watched him, no expression. Just listening. Heden expected some attitude, but was receiving none.

“You should have heard them. They acted like they’d never heard of Kavalen,” Heden said, dropping the title to see how Taethan would react. Nothing. “Everyone said talk to you. I bet,” he said, “that you think that’s as much a pile of horseshit as I do.”

Taethan pursed his lips, but Heden couldn’t tell if it was in reaction to what Heden said, or how he said it.

“You want me out of here as much as they do,” Heden said, his voice dropping a little. “Okay. You tell me how your commander died, and I’ll get out of here and leave you to…whatever you do.”

Taethan looked to the other knights as though checking to see if they would interject, but it was just for show.

He turned back to Heden.

“Did you know,” Sir Taethan’s began, “that your father prays for you, every morning?”

Heden peered at him and grimaced.

“You don’t know my father,” he said, pointing a warning finger.

“Only you,” Sir Taethan said, and he pulled at the mail gauntlets, tugging them off. “You have two brothers and two sisters, but he doesn’t pray for them.”

“Why don’t you use the cant?” Heden asked.

Taethan dismissed the question. “It’s not compulsory,” he said, echoing Idris. “Why does your father pray for you alone?”

“How do you know about my family?” Heden asked. He didn’t move, but he let some menace into his voice.

Taethan didn’t relent.

“He prays to both Adun and Cavall,” the knight said, taking off his mailed gloves. “He’s entitled, I suppose. At dawn every day he says ‘Help him.’ He doesn’t say your name, he doesn’t say ‘Help my son Heden,’ even though he has many sons, but the gods know who he means.”

“How do you know my name?” Heden asked, his voice rough. He didn’t like hearing about his father like this, and knew Taethan spoke the truth.

“Prayer,” Taethan said, and the other knights turned and looked at each other in disgust. They’d probably heard the lecture, and didn’t like it, “is a meditation. You see when they start, they’re young, and prayer is just a list. What they’ve been taught. A litany they recite of all their friends and loved ones. But when things go bad, when times are hard, then they start praying over the things they think are important. And that is how they learn what’s really important to them. Discovering that changes them. It’s a kind of self-revelation. Do you see?”

Sir Taethan watched Heden for his response. It sounded like a speech he practiced before, but he was watching to see whether Heden paid attention or not.

Heden thought about what the knight had said but more, why he had said it.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Heden admitted. He never minded admitting ignorance, and had never regretted it.

“Why do you think your father only ever prays for you?”

“I know why,” Heden said. “I know better than you. Probably better than he does. Why do you think the bishop sent me? You think he drew names by lot?”

Taethan adjusted his armor and moved his helm to the crook of his other arm. Its horns were long and spindly. Heden wondered how often the knights replaced them.

As the knight adjusted his armor, Heden noticed the moss growing on him. It wasn’t as obvious as Isobel. Heden wondered if he strategically picked parts off, and left others. How much of this covering was for show.

The knight was expecting some kind of elaboration from Heden. Heden wasn’t going to give it.

“A test? Is that what this is?” he asked. “You want to see if I’m…what? What quality do you think I need to speak the ritual? How about this; I didn’t kill my commander.”

This upset the other knights. Taethan said nothing.

“Who says we need this lout?” Dywel rasped. “We serve Halcyon, not the bishop. She will choose the next commander. Run him out of here.” Dywel spat the last words out.

“You think I came here for my amusement?” Heden challenged, looking from knight to knight. “Curiosity? You think I’m going to head out just because I’ve had my feelings hurt?” Heden shook his head and leaned back against the bench. “We’ve got a lot to learn about each other,” he said.

“As servants of Cavall, we owe respect to the Hierarch,” Sir Brys said. “But not servitude. We serve the Wode.” He looked at Sir Dywel without approval or affection, and said; “I agree with Sir Dywel. Brother Heden,” Brys said, looking at him from halfway across the priory, “we neither seek your judgment nor respect it. This is Halcyon’s priory, not your whore saint’s. If you will not speak the ritual now, you must leave.”

Heden looked to Isobel to see how she’d react to Brys making that kind of statement. She seemed lost in thought.

“What do you think?” Heden asked Taethan. “You think Halcyon’s just
busy
? You think that’s why no one’s been chosen to replace Kavalen? Or do you think she’s waiting for me?”

Taethan shook his head slowly. “I hope one, fear the other, and know not.” He seemed sad, looking at Heden.

“Tell me what happened to Kavalen,” Heden said to Taethan. “If there is justice to be meted out, you can do it. Or I can do it, I don’t care. But I can speak the ritual and one of you can take over and the people at Ollghum Keep will have a chance.”

None of them liked hearing about the keep. They collectively fidgeted and avoided Heden’s gaze. Except Taethan.

“What about you?” Heden said, looking at Sir Nudd. “Are you going to stand there and hope your oath protects you from doing the right thing? You
can
speak, you know,” he said. “You know what happened to Kavalen, you could tell me if you thought it was important enough.”

Sir Nudd frowned sadly and held up three fingers. The third knight. Taethan.

“Balls,” Heden said, giving up.

“You are a priest of Cavall,” Isobel said, straining to understand Heden. “The oath of silence is a burdensome thing, it weighs upon him like all the rock of this priory. Thou knowest that more than any likewise. Why wouldst a priest, any priest, attempt to provoke Sir Nudd into breaking it?”

Taethan looked sharply at Isobel. Then at Heden.

“Who said he was a priest?” Taethan asked, surprised. He looked to the other knights, to see if any of them had an answer.

He looked at Heden and was obviously disappointed. Without taking his eyes of him, he said: “Did he ever tell you he was a priest?”

No one responded. Brys stood up and looked angrily at Heden. Aderyn was confused, looking frantically from Brys to Taethan to Isobel.

“Did he say anything other than letting you all assume he was a priest?”

Brys walked up the nave and stood behind Taethan. The other knights, but for Isobel, were in various states of suspicion and outrage. Heden squirmed on the bench. Taethan knew too much about him, and then too much more.

Brys was about to say something damning, when Isobel spoke.

“He said nothing of the kind,” she said. She wasn’t looking at anyone, she was off on her own.

Her voice was clear and calm, but her pronouncement had an authority none could ignore. Heden didn’t believe that some people were born to rule. But he believed some people were better at it. Hard to know Baede and Richard and not think that. Isobel ranked among them. Her sister was a pale imitation.

“It was pure surmise on our part. A fanciful illusion he invited us to share.”

“He’s not a priest?” Aderyn asked, confused.

“I knew it,” Cadwyr sneered.

Idris shot him a look. “No you didn’t.”

Nudd just frowned sadly and turned his back.

Aderyn looked at him plaintively. “Why didst thou lie to us?” she asked. And in that moment the cant sounded perfectly natural.

“I apologize,” Heden said. “It’s a…it’s a bad habit I’ve picked up.”

“You should be proud of yourself,” Dywel said, and looked to Idris for approval. “You’re very good at it. A practiced liar.”

Heden ignored him and looked at Aderyn. “Most people think I’m a priest and I…I let them,” he said.

Aderyn looked back and forth between Taethan, Isobel, and Heden. “But he,” she began. “He warded me when I fought the giant,” she said.

“Tell them what you are,” Taethan said, his voice was light and free of care.

Heden looked down at the flagstones. He didn’t like being the center of attention.

“I’m an Arrogate,” he said.

Isobel stood up sharply, shocked, and turned to face Heden. Taethan smiled widely, cynically. The others were confused. Aderyn watched them all, trying to judge how she should react.

“What is that?” she asked, and now there was anger at her own ignorance.

“Tell her,” Taethan said.

“How did you know my name?” Heden asked. “When you came in here? None of the other knights had a chance to tell you about me.”

Taethan looked as though Heden had just complimented him. He said nothing. Heden found it difficult to talk.

“You tell her,” Heden said, refusing to take Taethan’s bait.

“It’s an ancient tradition,” Lady Isobel interjected, not taking her eyes of Heden. Her attitude toward him had changed. There was respect now and, Heden thought, awe.

“Prithee,” she said, “almost as old as ours.”

Taethan seemed a little put out that Lady Isobel was letting Heden off the hook. He interrupted.

“They are agents of the church,” Taethan said.

Heden nodded.

“Then priests after all,” Brys said, seeming confused but obviously wanting to learn that Heden was trustworthy. Wanting to find a way to shape events to fit his worldview.

“Nay,” Lady Isobel said, shaking her head in disbelief. Like she’d found some plaster statue had turned out to be a priceless artifact. “They must first be annulled. The Arrogates serve the church by leaving it, and taking on those duties abhorrent to Cavall.”

“Abhorrent?” Cadwyr said, interested in spite of himself.

“Awful things,” Isobel said. “I thought the tradition dead because it destroyed those who attempted it.”

“He’s not destroyed,” Dywel said, looking to Cadwyr, who nodded approval. “Maybe he’s not an Arrogate either.”

Lady Isobel cast a glance and Dywel and Idris hit him in the shoulder lightly with his mailed glove, then pointed at Dywel and Cadwyr, scolding them.

“Thou knowest the truth now,” Isobel accused, turning back to Heden. “Should have known it from the start.”