The Bastard, page 19
From there, I went back to Meghan’s. I’d already spoken to Lady Emmeline, and said I’d be away for a few days. So there was nothing to keep me in town. And anyway, I planned to return on hanging day, to watch the last part of my plans fall into place.
43
I spent the days leading up to hanging day in the arms of Meghan le Fay. At first, I was euphoric, but as time passed, my victory began to feel hollow.
Sure, I had fulfilled my purpose, set my own rules, got what I thought I wanted. Bryce and Durstan were dead, and Rolf would soon be as well. But other than that, nothing had changed.
I was still no more than a casual thief, a pickpocket dipping his fingers into other men’s coin pouches, and living my days one at a time, sleeping wherever I lay my head.
Without revenge to drive me, I was back where I started, with only Sir George and Meghan to show that anything in my life had changed.
That thought drove a lot of my euphoria away, leaving me slightly melancholy on what should have been a day of celebration and revelry.
Meghan noticed. Perhaps because instead of reaching for her youthful, beautiful body the moment she came to bed, I simply lay there, distracted by my own thoughts.
“It’s not how you thought it would be, is it?” she asked.
I smiled in the candlelight and turned toward her, placing my hand on the curve of her hip and kissing the tip of her nose.
“It’s just… I’m not sure. I guess I thought there would be something more.”
I knew I wasn’t being very articulate, but Meghan nodded, a ghost of a smile twisting her beautiful lips.
“And there is something more,” she said. “If you have the courage to look for it. And I think you do. Or at least, you’ll start to.”
Her words were as cryptic as when she talked about my past. For some reason, she never seemed to speak plainly when I needed her to. It was frustrating, yet for the first time, I thought I understood.
Meghan expected me to find my own answers. My own purpose. To define my own future, and she wasn’t going to influence me one way or the other if she could help it.
In a way, she was reinforcing the rules I had set for myself.
I’d thought what I wanted was revenge, but Meghan was right. Revenge was temporary. Now that I had achieved it, what was next?
Meghan had decided the conversation was over. She plucked my hand from her hip and placed it on her breast, and her intent was very, very clear.
I smiled and pushed her onto her back before clambering on top of her in such an ungainly way that she burst out into laughter.
Later, as I was drifting off to sleep, I couldn’t help but wonder what to do with myself now that revenge was out of the way.
I didn’t come up with an answer. Not exactly. But I knew it would have something to do with making a regular income. Just before I drifted off, I thought about Rolf’s existing network. Not the Blackcoats who worked for the King, but the people from whom he gathered his information, and his spymaster. If there was a way they could benefit me now that Rolf was out of the picture, perhaps I should try to seek them out.
44
The day of the hanging turned out almost sunny, with occasional patches of blue shining through a high, light cloud layer. There was no rain at all, and the entire city seemed festive.
As a result, the hanging grounds were full. There were people everywhere. Young, old, men, women, and children, they had all come out to witness the hangings and had brought with them many of the food sellers from the market as well.
I wasn’t one to enjoy hangings as entertainment but had been to more than my share, on account of the easy pickings they presented.
So, in the same way as the food sellers plied their trade, shouting their offerings as they wandered the crowd, I drifted along in their wake, noting where their customers kept their coin pouches.
“Candied apples! Candied apples! Get your candied apples here!” shouted a fat man with rosy cheeks, his target the younger crowd members.
“Meat buns! The best meat buns in the city! Meat buns!”
“Roasted nuts! Roasted nuts! Get your nuts roasted here! Roasted nuts!”
The latter resulted in a smattering of laughter, a distraction which I used to good advantage, my satchel gaining considerable weight even before the main festivities began.
And when they did, I made my way to the front, because I didn’t intend to miss this for the world.
The King’s Justice was already in place, as were the guards and the executioner. I didn’t want to be too obvious. There was always a chance that someone would recognize me from my own appearance at the gallows just a few weeks before.
So I kept my hood up and stood where I could see clearly, but where it would take real effort to seek me out.
And I watched as the first of the men to be hanged was walked up the wooden stairs to the top of the gallows.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the King’s Justice bellowed. “Our first criminal to swing on this fine spring day is a man who is a butcher of the worst kind. He is known to have taken his cleaver to end the lives of his neighbors, whom he then chopped up into small pieces and fed to his unwitting customers. The butcher is ready to swing for his crimes, having been found guilty by a judge. The executioner is ready. The knots are all tied. The trap has been tested. Only one thing remains, and that is on you good townsfolk. Are you ready to see the butcher swing?”
The King’s Justice was on form today. At his first words, he had the crowd on his side, and they responded with a full-throated roar of approval.
I wasn’t interested in the butcher. I was there to see just one man swing, and that was Rolf.
I tried to see him in the line of those waiting but could not.
The King’s Justice continued through his routine, enabling the executioner to tighten the noose around the butcher’s neck, and ordering the latter to step back onto the trap.
In less than a minute, the first hanging was done, and the whole crowd heard the butcher’s neck break as it snapped.
Then it was on to the next man, and the next, and the one after.
I watched as part of the crowd, but also apart, not joining in with the roars of approval, or the shocked squeals of delight as the victims met their fates. I kept my ears half on the King’s Justice on the odd chance I’d missed Rolf in the lines, but my enemy’s name was never spoken.
And as the day wore on and the bodies were stacked high on the cart, I started to wonder.
Where was Rolf?
Was he still to come? There seemed to be plenty of meat for the executioner today. But why couldn’t I see him standing in the same line I’d stood in, waiting his turn?
Perhaps, I began to think, I had somehow missed him, and that he was already gone. So I moved to the cart to see if I could make out his face among the corpses.
But he wasn’t there.
In growing confusion, I watched as one after the other, more prisoners met their deaths under the ministrations of the King’s Justice.
And as the last of the condemned reached the stairs, I had to admit what I’d known for more than half the day.
Rolf was not among them. He hadn’t been hung. Somehow, something had happened, and Rolf had either escaped from his prison or been released. Or, maybe, he was still in jail, his crimes deemed not harsh enough to warrant execution.
But as the last of the men condemned—a small, weedy man who looked ready to panic—took his place on the gallows, another thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps Rolf’s history of service had saved him. If anyone else had done as he did, then there would be have been no respite. But Rolf was one of the King’s men. Perhaps that was enough to spare his neck from the executioner’s craft.
As the last of the condemned jerked to a halt on the end of his rope, I felt like kicking myself.
Somehow, Rolf had escaped me. And all I was left with was the bitter taste of disappointment as the King’s Justice brought the day to a close and the crowd began drifting away.
And then I suddenly felt cold with dread. If Rolf had been freed, he would find a way to come after me. I had revealed myself to him, had told him exactly where to find me, no less.
As the hangman’s field emptied, I moved quickly through the crowds, checking over my shoulder every few moments to make sure Rolf wasn’t there ready to drive his dagger into my back.
I was in a mild state of shock. All that effort, all that planning, for nothing. And now the danger was greater than ever.
Not even Sir George could distract me. I barely even remembered he was there, I was so wrapped up in my thoughts.
With a rush, my desire for revenge returned.
It didn’t matter that Rolf hadn’t been hanged. I’d find him, and when I did, I intended to kill him. And this time, I wouldn’t bother with elaborate plans.
This time, I would end Rolf’s life with my own two hands.
I just needed to know how to find him.
With that thought in mind, I ducked deeper into the crowds and made my way to the closest tavern where I had contacts, to learn what had become of the Blackcoat Rolf.
45
The first three taverns I went to were a bust. The girls, as usual, were happy to see me, but no one had the information I needed.
But the fourth, the Wooden Bucket, proved to be different. Cassandra stared at me blankly when I asked if there was anything she had heard, but as I was preparing to leave, a slim man of about sixty reached out and stopped me. He looked vaguely familiar.
“You are Mordred, a bastard with no family name of your own?” he asked me.
I eyed him suspiciously. This man wasn’t a Blackcoat, that much was plain. Aside from lacking the actual black coat, he also lacked the swagger that came with that position. If I had to guess at his profession, I would have said scribe. He had the look and the sharpness of eye I associated with the role.
“Who wants to know?” I asked.
He smiled. “My name is unimportant,” he said. “And I will take from your answer that you are indeed him. I have a message for you from the Blackcoat named Rolf.”
I stared the man as if a dozen snakes had burst from his face. “What message?” I demanded. Then I looked at him warily, keeping my distance lest the stranger pull out a knife and try to end my life like an assassin. “Who are you to deliver messages from someone like him?”
The sharpness in the man’s eyes turned into a sparkle. He gave a slight nod, as if acknowledging the merit of my question. “I am just someone who acts according to Rolf’s will, from time to time. But that isn’t the question. The question is whether you want to hear the message in this place, or if you would prefer to go somewhere more private.”
I looked him up and down. Anyone associated with Rolf was not to be trusted.
“I am unarmed,” he said, “apart from my regular knife, as you can see,” the man said. “And surely, even if I wasn’t, someone who is being trained in the sword by Lady Emmeline Hemonnet herself would have nothing to fear.”
Every word this man said raised additional questions. At the same time, he was right. Whatever Rolf’s message was, I would receive it in private.
“Outside,” I said to him.
“As you wish,” the man said, and with that, he turned his back, presenting an open target should I desire, and moved through the tavern to the door.
Outside, it was already dark, and the rain had returned. The stranger raised his hood, as did I, and for a moment, we stared at each other as if sizing each other up.
“Well?” I asked.
He gave another of his small nods.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said. “The way you put together your network, so swiftly, informal yet loyal, very impressive indeed. And how you manipulated Rolf to commit the only crime he would get in trouble for–again, very impressive.”
I froze, realizing who this man was, and where I had seen him before.
Rolf had a network of informants, more formal than mine. This must have been the man who headed that network. And on my first day back in the city after my hanging, he had sat in the tavern watching the customers, while I waited for Rosylin. Although he must not have known who I was then, or Rolf would have already been after me weeks ago. Having figured that out, I felt like I was on surer footing. And I managed a smile back at him.
“It didn’t work,” I said succinctly. “Rolf is free.”
“Oh yes it did. The only thing you got wrong was that you underestimated Rolf’s pull with some of his men. He asked me to call in all his favors, to make threats, to offer gold, anything he could to extricate himself from the pickle he found himself in.” There was a bitterness to this man’s expression, a small frown, and a downward curve at the corner of his lips that spoke volumes. He might work for Rolf but didn’t necessarily enjoy it.
But that didn’t mean this stranger was an ally to me. Still, it explained why Rolf hadn’t come after me at the hanging. He was on the run.
“What is Rolf’s message?” I asked yet again.
The man smiled.
“He hates you with everything he has,” the man said. “You bested him. And if you know Rolf, you know that being bested is something he can never take. He has put together a list of targets, and while Sir Lancelot remains at the top of the list, your name has moved into second place.”
It was interesting and slightly disturbing to know that we both had each other’s names on our respective lists.
“Is that the message Rolf wanted me to know? That he has my name on his list? If so then you can tell–”
But the strange man was shaking his head. “That is not the message.”
“Then what is?”
“You might think Rolf’s first objective would be to leave this city, to head out and never come back. Instead, he is in a secret place, under the King’s and Sir Lancelot’s very noses.”
“And?” I asked.
“And he bade me tell you where you might find him, so that you and he might put an end to your enmity one way or the other. While you live freely, he cannot be satisfied. And I believe that you might feel the same.”
I stared at the man for long moments. Inside, I was roiling with emotion. Rage, hope, anger, relief. I had been looking for a way to end things with Rolf, and it looked as if that way had been delivered directly to me.
I could end it this very night. All I needed to do was go to him and cut his throat.
Except…
“Why would Rolf ask you to tell me this?” I demanded. “He knows I’m out to kill him. Why would he want me to know where he is?”
The older man bobbed his head. “That is the question, is it not?” he asked. “Far be it from me to put words in my master’s mouth. But I would suggest that as you despise him, he despises you also. And he is in hiding. If he was not, if he could walk the streets of Camelot without fear of Sir Lancelot or his men taking issue, then he would no doubt have come to you.”
The man shrugged. “He wants you out of the way. If he could erase his problem with Lancelot in the same fashion, he would do so.”
“It’s a trap,” I stated.
The older man smiled. “While such as that certainly falls within my master’s experience, in this case, I feel he is acting in good faith. He is inviting you to a duel, one on one.”
It went against everything I knew of the man. I frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“Simple. He doesn’t see you as a genuine threat.”
At this, I barked a laugh. That did reflect what I knew of Rolf. He’d never seen me as anything more than the naïve, ineffectual man I had been. He viewed me with contempt.
Even after I’d beaten him, it seemed that his view of me remained the same.
“Does he not realize it was me who killed Bryce and Durstan?” I asked, a growl creeping into my voice.
“He does, although he didn’t at the time. It is only recently that he put two and two together. But your actions against Rolf have been indirect. He believes that is because you fear to face him directly.”
There was some truth to the man’s words. Rolf was the most dangerous person I knew. And while I had been training with Lady Emmeline, I was still a long way from being a true expert with the blade.
And, I had run out of Meghan’s enchanted discs that blinded anyone near. Any fight against Rolf would be difficult, if not foolish for me to attempt.
Except, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve, possibly. “In that case, why would he expect me to show up at all?” I asked.
Again, the small nod, and it seemed to me that it was a sign of approval. As if I’d asked the right question.
“He is counting on your hatred for him to inspire you. That, combined with his escape from the hangman’s noose. And if that wasn’t enough, he bade me to give you some additional… motivation.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What motivation?”
The man shrugged again. “I am not at liberty to discuss it myself. But there are two things he knows that you don’t. The first has something to do with Anwen.”
Anwen?
Anwen had been at the center of this mess from the beginning. Anwen whose unexpected status as the King’s property had condemned me to hang.
Beautiful Anwen, who had smelled like wildflowers, and who I would have liked to get to know a lot better.
“What about her?” I asked.
He shrugged again. It was a bit infuriating. “If you want to learn what Rolf knows, then I suggest you go to meet him.”
I felt like grabbing the man and shaking loose whatever he knew. But something about him suggested he wasn’t the sort to spill secrets easily.
“What was the other thing Rolf knows?” I demanded.
This time, the older man smiled. “It has to do with the secret of who you are,” he said.
I was a bit shocked, remembering what Rolf had shouted when he was in jail, that he knew something about me.
I was caught in indecision. Part of me knew it was foolish to face Rolf alone, but another part, a stronger, more vicious part, demanded I do just that.
