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Chapter Twelve

Homecoming

It was strange to think of Woodfall Gath as home, and yet I did have a certain amount of grudging affection for the place, if only because it was here that I'd met Nicolo.

It had also been the location of my first professional job as an assassin, and although I'd decided that was not the life for me, I was still proud of how I'd put my skills to use, and hoped that, whatever the future held, I would be able to use those skills again.

On our way, we had once again stopped at the Square Inn, this time only taking one room, and I enjoyed our visit much more this time around—all of that owing to the fact that we made love all night and into the morning.

Now the Castle Complex of Woodfall Gath was dominating the horizon, the vast sprawling expanse of stone, constantly growing, stretching as far as the eye could see.

"It is amazing from the outside," Nicolo shook his head. "I spent so much of my life there and I suppose I took it for granted, but looking at it now… it's quite impressive."

"I prefer Simnel."

He glanced over at me and smiled. "So do I."

"How are you feeling?" I read him well enough now to hear the slight strain of nervousness in his voice.

"Good. I think." He sighed. "I've no reason to be concerned and yet, now we're almost back, I'm starting to wonder how people will react to what I have to say. People don't like change."

"That is true."

"Especially when its change that requires them to do something."

"Or give up something."

"Exactly," Nicolo nodded. "Balduin's position is, on the one hand, absolute—it couldn't be stronger. He is the one and only heir, no one else is taking that throne. On the other hand…"

"He doesn't have a lot of friends?" I suggested.

"And so many enemies," Nicolo agreed. "His sisters are just the tip of the iceberg. The nobility has become so inbred over the centuries, everyone can trace their family to the royal line somehow."

"Explains a lot."

"Maybe. But it means that one little thing could throw the court into rebellion. I don't want to be the one to destabilize Balduin's position."

"With respect…" I began.

"I know you don't like him, Charlotte." His voice always gained a hard edge when I said anything against the prince, reminding me that if Nicolo had to choose between the two of us, it would be far from an easy choice.

"You're talking about destabilizing his position out of a desire to help those less fortunate," I went on. "He's already destabilized it by treating everyone around him with contempt and mounting anything that moves."

"It is hard to grow up as heir." He was admonishing me, as he might have done when I was no more than his squire. "Balduin's never been given the opportunity to be anything other than what he is. I'm going to give him that opportunity, Charlotte, and when he becomes King, you'll see—everyone will see—what he does with it."

"But…"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore!"

As the squire of Master Nicolo, then I would have been silenced by such a command. But I was more than his squire now, and I would not stand to be talked to like that by the man who was supposed to be my love.

"Well, I do want to talk about it."

Nicolo looked over at me in surprise.

I kept my mouth set in a hard line. "Times are going to come, Nicolo, when you and I disagree. Especially about the prince. I'm not going to tell you who you can and can't be friends with, just as I'm sure you're never again going to tell me what I can and can't talk about." I softened a little as I took in his blindsided expression. "Things between us are bound to be tough at first," I continued on a sigh. "When we were in Simnel, it was almost as though we were different people. Now we have to get used to being those different people but in a familiar place, where things used to be a certain way. That is…" I paused, a little nervously, "… assuming you want things between us to carry on as they were in Simnel? If you don't, then now would be the time to say it." I took a deep breath and though I was scared to say the rest of what was on my mind, I forged ahead. I was nothing if not brave and always had been. "And I guess now's as good a time as any for me to say out loud what you probably already know; I love you, Nicolo."

He looked as if he'd been hit in the face by my words, and I wasn't sure at first what that meant.

"I'm sorry for again telling you what you can and can't say, Charlotte," he started, swallowing hard. "And… I love you, Charlotte. Here, in Simnel, in the Gath, wherever the bloody hell we happen to be. In the mountains, the plains or on the sea, I will love you the same wherever we are, and nothing will ever change that."

I couldn't help the huge smile that took hold of my mouth. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"I should hope you do."

I hoped that was all true, but I knew the biggest challenge to our young love was yet to come.

***

It was early evening when we rode into Woodfall Gath through one of its many entrances, surrounded by the debris of building work that was the near-constant in the outskirts of the Castle Complex.

We were still over an hour's ride from the Great Castle but there was a vague sense of something not being quite right; an eerie quiet that wasn't quiet as much as empty. The people we saw were all in a hurry, rushing away from us, and there seemed to be a constant underlying percussion of doors being slammed closed.

"Everyone seems in a hurry to get home," murmured Nicolo. He was used to people running away from him in fear, but even he seemed uneasy. He'd lived in the Gath far longer than I and was more attuned to the sense of something being wrong.

"What's that?" I pointed up ahead, above the endless landscape of rooftops.

"Looks like smoke," said Nicolo. "Must be a fire somewhere."

Not good news, but not so unusual either. Much of Woodfall Gath was at least partially built of wood and everyone had fires in their homes, so fires did happen and could get out of hand very quickly. It was a shame, but it happened. And yet, combined with the sense of something not being quite right, both Nicolo and I looked at that rising cloud of black smoke and felt our uneasiness grow.

"Let's pick up the pace."

We'd taken our time travelling back from Simnel, seldom rising above walking pace, but now we both brought our horses to a trot, Amber's hooves clattering on the stone streets of Woodfall Gath.

"There's another one." Nicolo pointed out to our left, towards the southern districts. Another black cloud was rising. Though it was distant, we could see the red glow from which it emanated, under-lighting the cloud.

"A bad night," commented Nicolo, trying to stifle the concern in his voice.

Again; it was not impossible. It was not so unusual; the Gath was huge and a bit of a tinderbox. Fires happened, two at once or three even.

"Out there." I spotted the third.

"Must be the weather."

It had been dry, which we'd been glad of on the ride back, but that did mean that fires spread more easily. Still, there was something ominous about them. Perhaps it was that silence. Fires didn't usually equal silence, you could hear people yelling for help, for water, the formation of the community bucket chain to the nearest well, alongside people screaming and bewailing the loss of home and property. Fires were noisy. But these weren't. We were some distance from them, but even so, I would have expected to hear some of that vocal chaos, but there was nothing; the fires burnt in silence.

As we trotted on, I saw people peering through the closed shutters of their windows. Some seemed to be looking out into the distance at the fires, their faces grim and emotionless. Others were watching us, wondering who we were, fearful of us (or so it seemed to me) just because we were out on the streets when no one else seemed to be.

"I know this district," muttered Nicolo. "I've never known it like this before."

"Do you think something's happened?"

"Maybe. But I can't imagine what."

"War?"

He shook his head. "If it was war, we would know, we would hear it."

It was as if my stomach was in knots that twisted tighter with every street down which we passed, drawing ever closer to the Great Castle.

"I'll speak to Balduin as soon as we get back," nodded Nicolo, firmly. "He'll know what's going on."

And a voice at the back of my head said, Yes. Yes, I think he will .

Suddenly, a voice came out of the darkened street ahead of us. "Hold! Who goes there? What are you doing out after curfew?"

Curfew? There was no curfew in Woodfall Gath, or not that I knew of.

"What curfew?" asked Nicolo, as perplexed as I was.

"Don't play dumb," the speaker marched forward into the light that shone from a window, revealing him to be a sergeant of the guard accompanied by six soldiers in formation. "Ignorance is no excuse. Curfew applies to…"

It was remarkable to see his face seem to almost implode as he recognized Master Nicolo and saw his career passing before his eyes.

"Master? I… I… I…"

"Yes?" Nicolo was back to what I thought of as his ‘Great Castle persona', the hard voice, the cold expression, the overwhelming aura of menace.

"I mean… Apologies, Master," the sergeant stammered, his mind racing for ways he could get out of this with his life. "Obviously the curfew does not apply to you. I just… I just didn't recognize you at first."

"I am not a recognizable figure?"

"Of course, you are Master! It's just… I didn't expect to see you so far from the castle."

"Am I not allowed to go where I please?" At some point, Nicolo was just screwing with the man.

"Of course, you are, Master! You can go where you please!" From the look on his face, the man was wishing that the master would start now by going anywhere but here.

"This curfew; it is just for this district?"

There was perhaps a flicker of confusion on the man's face at being asked to explain something that surely Master Nicolo was well aware of, but he did not let the look linger. Perhaps he was being tested. Perhaps Master Nicolo was too busy to pay attention to menial matters that didn't concern him. Perhaps Master Nicolo had been on a lengthy bender and hadn't noticed what was happening outside of the Great Castle. None of which was important; when Master Nicolo asked you a question, you answered it.

"No, Master. For the whole of the Gath."

"How long has it been in place?"

"Two weeks, Master."

"What is going on with those fires?"

This time the man was unable to hide his frown. "Fires, Master?"

Nicolo pointed. "There seem to be an unusual number of fires in the complex tonight."

"I would assume, Master," the sergeant chose his words with impeccable care, "that was just the Purgers at work. Rooting out disloyalty wherever they find it."

I saw the swift calculation on Nicolo's face. "The Purgers, of course. How foolish of me."

"Yes, Master. I mean; no, Master. Not to disagree with you, Master." The man was sweating profusely. "Might we continue on patrol, Master?"

"You may go."

You never saw a squad march as quickly as that one did as they left Nicolo and me.

"Two weeks," murmured Nicolo.

"Purgers?" I asked.

Nicolo shook his head. "There used to be… I remember from my history lessons—technically, Balduin's history lessons—but I remember that during a particularly ugly period in the history of the Gath, one king or another (might have been Seti IV) created squads of what he called ‘Purgers' whose job it was to find those loyal to the old king (Seti's brother, whom he had deposed. The brother was also called Seti. It was a confusing time). They burned homes, property, and often the people themselves. A few other kings resurrected the post in times of great division in the Gath. But as far as I know, there haven't been official Purges for two hundred years."

He stared out at the fires. "Something terrible must have happened while we were away."

"Perhaps Duke Wylder's revolution got started up again," I suggested. Wylder had been the leader of those who felt Prince Balduin unfit for office until Nicolo had hunted him down.

But Nicolo shook his head. "We have his family in custody. He wouldn't risk anything happening to them. He's misguided, but Wylder is a decent, family man. He loves his wife and children."

"Maybe they escaped."

"Maybe." He didn't believe it, but I could see darker concerns etched into Nicolo's face. He looked suddenly older than his twenty-six years.

"Nicolo?"

"We need to get back. I must speak to Balduin."

There was, of course, another option that would have allowed—even encouraged—Wylder's revolution; the deaths of his wife and children.

When they were taken into custody, Nicolo had gone out of his way to ensure that they were looked after and treated as guests rather than prisoners. He was ruthless with anyone he met on the battlefield or any who would scheme against his prince, but he would not mistreat innocent women and children—even The Unbreakable had a line. Wylder's family were, therefore treated extremely well because the guards were petrified of Nicolo. But with him gone…

But that was ridiculous. They knew he was coming back.

A cold tremor went down my back.

Of course, one person in the Gath had reason to believe that Master Nicolo was not coming back. Balduin.

A horrible new sensation began to creep through me as I started to put together events in my head, arriving at a conclusion I could barely believe.

We reached the Great Castle. Nicolo slid off his horse before it had even stopped moving and was striding for the main doors the instant his feet touched the ground. I sprang off and hurried after him.

"Nicolo…" If I was right, and I hoped to the great god I wasn't, then I needed to speak to him now, to tell him the whole truth, everything I'd been keeping back. It wasn't the ideal time, but it was now clear I'd already waited too long. I hadn't wanted to spoil the idyll of Simnel, but in preserving that, I'd jeopardized everything Nicolo and I had. And more besides.

"Nicolo?"

"Not now, Charlotte." He stopped, realizing his dismissive tone. "Sorry. I didn't mean to… Something is wrong, I have to know what."

"I think I might be able to help," I ventured.

"I know you can. But please let me speak to Balduin first."

"That's part of the problem. Look…"

"Nicolo!"

Before I could blurt out the words I'd held inside for the last month and a half, the voice of Prince Balduin from behind him made Nicolo turn. His friend was striding down the main staircase of the Great Entrance Hall.

"Welcome home, though I must admit I'm surprised to see you."

There was a tightness about Balduin's features that Nicolo, if he noticed, would no doubt write off as a consequence of whatever was going on here in the Gath. But I interpreted it differently; he was trying to hide his unhappy shock. He'd thought his friend dead. But Prince Balduin was a man who knew how to roll with the punches, and he would adapt to this new situation. For a split-second, I saw his eyes flick in my direction, and there was so much contained in that brief stare. It wasn't hatred. He was, for the moment, more pragmatic than that, it was a simple acknowledgment that he'd misjudged me and that things had changed between Nicolo and me.

"It doesn't feel like much of a welcome," said Nicolo, grasping his friend's proffered hand. Even now, I wondered how much Nicolo would believe me if I told him the truth. Nicolo was a strong man and yet seemed to draw strength just from being with Balduin. If Balduin was here, then everything was alright in Nicolo's world. "I was worried something might have happened to you. I thought the fires might be reprisals."

Balduin smiled. "No, my friend. But you are right. Much has happened while you have been gone. Much of it… seismic . Some of it very bad. But out of that, I feel, has come a new order. The bad that happened had to happen to make way for good."

From behind him, I now noticed the sounds of shouting and music.

"Come up to the Banqueting Hall," said Balduin. "You can have a drink and I will explain things there."

None of this was right. Balduin was too calm. He knew I'd betrayed him and there was little evidence that he was angry about it. I was on edge, waiting for something, but not knowing what.

There was a party going on in the Banqueting Hall, or at least there were the sounds of laughing, music, dancing and casual debauchery. When we walked through the double doors, I tried not to look too closely at what was going on—decidedly carnal activities. Nicolo looked more confused than disgusted by it all. Being Nicolo's squire meant being around Balduin and so I'd seen sights like this before; the prince's behind-closed-doors parties were something of a legend within the Great Castle. They were an open secret that people talked about in hushed whispers, pursed their lips and disapproved, whilst desperately trying to get themselves onto the guest list because everyone likes a consequence-free debauch from time to time. But those parties were always in some out of the way location; one of the below stairs lounges beneath Heir's Tower.

The Banqueting Hall, on the other hand, was an official venue, it was the location where the court celebrated Saints' days' and where the Old Queen dined with dignitaries. There was always room for fun and frolics, as well, but what I was currently trying not to look at (though even if I looked away, I could still hear it) went way beyond frolicking.

There was another difference too to the sorts of parties I'd previously seen Prince Balduin preside over; people always seemed to enjoy his parties. There were a lot of people here indulging in activities that could broadly be categorized as ‘fun', and a lot of them were smiling, but there was a rigid desperation to the smiles, as if they felt they had to enjoy it for fear of what would happen if they didn't. Alongside the usual suspects from Balduin's secret parties were older men of the court whose health (if not their dignity) should have precluded such activities, they were red-faced and gasping as they danced and drank and did other things. There were elderly spinsters of the court, whose lives had previously been devoted to disapproving of such behavior, some of whom had even spoken out against Balduin for just this reason, yet now here they were, in the thick of it, surrendering distaste, dignity, and… yes, perhaps even virginity, to the wild thrash of events.

This was a party at sword-point. A forced party. More than half these people didn't want to be here, didn't want to be doing these things, but, for some reason, felt as if they had no choice. I saw the fear in their eyes, along with the disgust in themselves. What were they afraid of? What did they think would happen if they didn't indulge? I couldn't help noticing the line of guards—more than usual—stationed by the walls; watching, waiting. And a few of them were involving themselves with the guests. It was all very… odd.

There was also someone missing, and from the look on his face, I guessed Nicolo was thinking along similar lines.

"You should be careful. If you wake the Queen, she won't be happy you're using the Hall like this," Nicolo said.

Balduin's shoulders acquired an artificial slump. "That is, of course, the main thing you have missed, my old friend." Then he turned to face Nicolo and gave him a big, unconcerned smile. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, for I know you were fond of my grandmother, but the Old Queen is dead."

Nicolo's faced blanched of color and his jaw dropped, as much in genuine distress as shock; he'd loved Queen Nell, for all her faults.

"The Queen is dead?"

Balduin nodded, that jubilant smile spreading even wider. "Long Live the King."

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