Chapter 8

  As the sun rose up in the sky and adorned the world’s ring with its light, Isabeau and her companions prepared to leave Gwion’s inn. Isabeau kept the information that Gwion had divulged to her in mind, yet she didn’t look forward to telling Sir Tancred. She feared, most of all, that the knowledge would send him into a state of despair just as debilitating as when he’d learned the truth about his late wife. Isabeau decided to pay more attention to Martha instead.

  As for Martha, she seemed like she’d had some time to rest, at the very least. She was still quieter than she’d been at the banquet, but Isabeau noticed that Martha’s eyes looked a little brighter.

  “You look like you managed to sleep a little,” said Isabeau. “I know this place probably isn’t like your bedroom back at the castle.”

  “It’s better, actually,” Martha replied. “Anything is better than having to share space with my grandmother or one of my treacherous cousins.”

  “Oh…” Isabeau’s voice trailed off. Martha didn’t appear to be interested in much further conversation, and Isabeau didn’t want to pry. Living with Baron’s gang gave her an idea, at least, of what it was like to have to cohabitate with people who could just stab her in the back at any time. She said a quick goodbye to Gwion on her way out the door and followed Sir Tancred and the others back to the carriage. The driver was buckling one of the draft homunculi’s harnesses on as they approached.

  “Sir Tancred,” Isabeau addressed her mentor, “where are we off to next? Do we have a plan for where Martha’s going to stay?”

  “In most cases, we would be bringing someone in her situation to the church for sanctuary,” he replied, “but with what happened with the Archdeacon, the church is perhaps not the safest place to keep her.”

  “Castle Dragoul would also be a risk,” Blaise added, adjusting the brim of his hat to shade his eyes from the sun. “If Lady Martha stayed there, it would only give the Duchess more plausibility to any accusations that we maliciously kidnapped her granddaughter.”

  “What if,” Martha spoke up, “I stayed at your order’s hall? I’d be deep in the city, and there would be plenty of knights to protect me.”

  “That is a good suggestion, Lady Martha,” said Sir Tancred, “I would have to make an appeal to Sir Piers, but the Grand Hall of the Executioner-Knights does have some extra rooms that could be repurposed for guests.”

  “Or the extra room we have at the vineyard now that Loren’s living at Sir Sulpice’s old shop,” suggested Isabeau. Martha’s eyebrows raised with interest, but Sir Tancred seemed hesitant towards the proposition.

  “While we could easily feed and house Lady Martha at our home,” said the bearded knight, “someone who is trying to return Martha to her grandmother would only have to go through two knights to get to her. If she was to stay at the Grand Hall, a threat to Lady Martha has the city walls, the guards patrolling them, another small wall, and several knights to pass through to get to her.”

  “I think I’ll try the Grand Hall, first,” said Martha, “but if I need to be moved out of the city quickly, your vineyard is an option, Sir Tancred. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “You are very welcome, Lady Martha,” said Tancred.

  The group climbed back into the carriage, and when the homunculi were ready to move, they left Grelun in a hurry. The carriage passed through some of the same trails Brandon and his band once patrolled and arrived at Talerno’s gates. The yellow stone walls of the city stood high and proud, flying with the orange hare banners of the county of Lebre and the dragon banners of the house of Dragoul who ruled it. Blaise remained with his carriage, continuing on the road to Castle Dragoul as he’d said he would.

  Making their way into the city on foot, Isabeau, Martha, and Sir Tancred passed through the merchant’s quarter and its ornate guild halls before taking a turn down Headsman Alley, the walled-off road where the Executioner-Knights and their affiliates provided their services. Passing by the Leaky Cleaver, the road’s tavern, Isabeau remained on-guard. She knew that if they ran into Sir Grygor and he caught sight of a sad, vulnerable beauty like Martha, that he’d make things awkward. That was his type, after all.

  A little further down the road stood the Grand Hall itself. Built like a guild hall, it was adorned with statues of knights and a pristinely engraved door commissioned by a legendary artist who’d since left Talerno for a career in the royal capital of Gelova, his patron none other than the king himself. Or at least that was what Isabeau found out, following Martha’s reaction to the art.

  “Is that an engraving by Leandro Lafont?” asked Martha, gesturing towards the door. Isabeau had no idea and shrugged, but Sir Tancred gave her a short nod.

  “In his youth,” said Sir Tancred, “Mr. Lafont was commissioned by the Grand Master before Sir Piers to add some engravings to our hall’s door.”

  “It’s unmistakably his work,” said Martha. “My grandmother had him over for lunch one time and I showed him my paintings.”

  “Did he like ‘em?” asked Isabeau, still side-eyeing in the direction of the tavern.

  “He offered for me to go to the university in Gripantour to be his apprentice,” Martha sighed, “but Grandmother told me I was to stay with her because I was going to be married off.”

  “What a bitch,” Isabeau muttered under her breath.

  “Isabeau,” Sir Tancred chided her, “regardless of how you feel about the Duchess, it is unbecoming of an Executioner-Knight to regard someone of the noble class with such profanity.”

  “I mean,” Martha muttered in support of Isabeau’ astute observation, “that’s what she is.”

  Sir Tancred sighed, appearing to give up. He reached for the door.

  “I am going to see if I can get an audience with Sir Piers,” he said, “If all goes well, Lady Martha, be prepared to tell him the story of what occurred last night and to advocate for yourself.”

  “I will, Sir Tancred,” said Martha. “Thank you.”

  While Sir Tancred went in to talk with the Grand Master, Isabeau and Martha found a bench to sit on in the shade and waited outside. Martha sat to Isabeau’s left, sitting a little tensely with her hands over her knees, and Isabeau leaned back against the bench and exhaled a bit louder than she may have wanted to.

  “So your stupid old grandma let you meet the most famous artist in Gelova right now, and then didn’t let you go to him for lessons?”

  “No,” Martha sighed, shaking her head. Her voice wavered. “Sir Geoffroi even pleaded to her to let me go, but she said that my place in the family was to forge yet another alliance and give her some heirs…Or at least be the bait to draw in and murder a family that was hoping for that.”

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  “Damn it all,” Isabeau grumbled, her shoulders drooping. She and Martha sat together in silence for a few moments before Martha spoke again.

  “Isabeau,” she said, “You’re lucky, you know, to have so many people who look out for you.”

  “I didn’t always have them,” said Isabeau. “Before Sir Tancred rescued me when I was fourteen, I lived with a gang of outlaws who worked for the Markozian Cult. That ‘Sir Perceval’ of the White Lions who’s working for your grandmother? That’s Cyran, the son of the leader of that gang.”

  “I never thought Perceval was his real name,” Martha admitted.

  “I never wanted to see that piece of shit again,” Isabeau fumed. “He pretended to be my friend, and the next thing I knew, he had me drugged up and…”

  “I’m sorry,” said Martha.

  “No need to be,” Isabeau growled, “You didn’t do that, he did. He saw a girl who was a little curvy for her age and thought he could have her like a woman. I don’t want this to sound like I’d throw you to the Lions, Martha, but if Cyran shows up, I can’t go after him.”

  “I understand,” Martha replied, shifting in her seat a little uncomfortably at Isabeau’s story.

  “Luckily,” said Isabeau, “all the other knights here hate bastards like that. If you get to stay with us for a while, you’ll have plenty of men who will gladly go after Cyran if he comes to get you.”

  The doors swung open again, and Sir Tancred stepped out. He gave the two girls a nod.

  “Isabeau, Lady Martha,” he addressed them, “Sir Piers is calling a meeting of the Executioner-Knights. He wishes to speak to the both of you.”

  ***

  Sir Tancred led Isabeau and Martha to Sir Piers’s meeting room, which resembled a library more than a place to conduct a meeting due to the many bookshelves lining the walls. The Grand Master kept himself surrounded by manuscripts and manuals of all kinds, as he occasionally had the need to be away from the commotion and do something he enjoyed in peace. Sir Piers sat at his desk in just the same way he had been when Isabeau had previously gone to him; he had another manuscript out in front of him, this one being a delightfully painted one about the story of a famous knight of long ago. The illustrations depicted the knight navigating the lair of a giant, mutated leopardhawk in order to save a fair maiden.

  “Lady Martha Baultain, I presume?” said the Grand Master as Martha entered the room with Isabeau and Tancred.

  “Yes, Grand Master,” said Martha.

  “I would like to hear the story of your wedding directly from you, my lady. Tell me exactly what happened last night.”

  “I never wanted to marry Sir Blaise,” Martha began. “I know that as a noblewoman I have hardly a choice in who I am to be arranged to, but I promise you that this is not just me trying to escape for my own sake. I do not know the full details yet of precisely what has happened in the Gelovan royal court, but there has been some change in the balance of power there to allow a faction that stands against your county’s interests to come into power. My grandmother had been communicating with them, and they offered her influence in the court if she could conquer the county. When Lord Dragoul came to her seeking aid and security for Lebre given the shortage of soldiers, it was a perfect way for her to begin to implement her plans. She wanted to start by luring in the Dragoul family in a false show of goodwill and use the wedding to assassinate them when they were all in one place together.”

  “This claim is most serious,” Sir Piers replied. “You do realize that if war does come, that we may have no choice but to see you as an enemy?” Isabeau got a little angry and almost stood up to speak her mind, but Martha gave her a look as if to tell her to settle down. Sir Tancred’s look of disapproval also discouraged her.

  “I do,” Martha said calmly, “but I assure you, I am no enemy to Lebre or your Count’s family. At the party, I requested the services of your knights to help rescue Sir Blaise’s parents and help me escape. My bodyguard Sir Geoffroi helped Lord and Lady Dragoul escape through the castle’s wine cellar.”

  “Sir Geoffroi,” Sir Piers’s voice brimmed with nostalgia at hearing the name. “He was a good friend of mine when I lived in the royal capital.”

  I’m sorry,” Martha’s voice grew sad again, “but it appears that he gave his life helping me escape. My grandmother flew into a rage and tried to attack Isabeau and I, but Isabeau showed restraint and only struck her in self-defense. Then my family’s guards and my grandmother’s mercenaries began attacking the guests on my uncle’s orders. Sir Geoffroi fought them off while I escaped with the Executioner-Knights.”

  “My heart aches for your loss, Lady Martha,” said Sir Piers. “In the time I knew Sir Geoffroi, I know he certainly would have done anything to protect those he held close. I would recommend that Sir Tancred discuss with Isabeau about showing more care in dealing with hostile nobles…but this seems to be a situation where there was truly no other way.” Sir Piers closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, thinking as he ran a hand over his neatly kept mustache and pointed beard.

  “This will be a tough situation to navigate,” he stated. “A cruel old shrew of the likes of the Duchess of Urgonde deserves to be knocked down, but there will always be dire consequences when someone of such status is humiliated. Do not assume that I am blaming you for your actions, Isabeau, but we will have to work harder than ever in the case she comes looking for revenge.”

  “I didn’t want to punch her,” Isabeau groaned. “I would have wanted this whole arrangement to be ended peacefully if it was possible. Even then, I grew up in a den of vipers just as Martha did, and sometimes fighting back is the only language that fools like that understand.”

  “A controlling demeanor with political power behind it is still a very dangerous thing to contend with,” Sir Piers reminded her. His long, blond hair slightly fell out of place as he leaned forward to tell her. “That Duchess is not your run-of-the-mill abusive parent, she is a noblewoman with real titles, a real army, and real power. If she has the money, men, and resources to go after those who get in her way, she will use them.”

  Isabeau wished to tell Sir Piers that she’d like to see the Duchess try, but she knew herself well enough that even with her homunculus powers she had no hope of fighting an army on her own. With Cyran whispering in the elderly warmonger’s ear on top of it all, there were a lot of things he could persuade the Duchess and others to do that she’d have trouble dealing with, even with the help of the other members of the Knights. Isabeau relented and let someone else speak. In this case, Martha had the floor once again.

  “You’ll have me, though, Sir Piers,” she said, “If you provide me sanctuary. I can tell you, the lords of the county, and the Countess everything about my grandmother and her allies that you need to know.”

  “Indeed,” said Sir Piers. “Such information will be useful should the Duchess muster her forces against the County. I will offer you a room here at this hall and the protection of my knights. Sir Tancred?”

  “Yes, Grand Master.”

  “There is an empty room just down the hall. Last door on the left. Lady Martha can stay there for the time being, and I would like you and Isabeau to assist her in settling in.”

  “I shall do that, Grand Master.”

  With all business concluded, Isabeau, Martha, and Sir Tancred all left the room. As they walked towards Martha’s room, Isabeau tensed up as she noticed Sir Grygor coming towards them. Loren’s father pushed some stray gray hair out of his eyes and flashed a grin as he saw Sir Tancred leading the two women along.

  “Sir Tancred,” Sir Grygor addressed him, “You missed some wild stories down at the Cleaver. Raimond and Jausep were telling me they found this old altar out in the woods and they think it’s haunted—”

  “—I have some business to attend to,” Sir Tancred replied as he led Isabeau and Martha along. He passed Sir Grygor without a care for the story, as did Isabeau.

  “You’re no fun,” Sir Grygor muttered. “No fun at all, Tancred, you never were!” The grizzled, hard-drinking knight threw his wild mane of gray hair back and laughed.

  Isabeau ignored Sir Grygor, keeping her thoughts to herself until she felt a tug on her sleeve.

  “Isabeau,” Martha asked, “who’s he?” The almost purring quality of Martha’s voice caught her off guard and made her blood run cold. Was Martha already interested in that old fool?

  “Sir Grygor,” Isabeau replied, inhaling deeply through her nose and pinching between her eyebrows. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “I’m not sure if I can promise that,” Martha admitted. “I’ve always liked more mature men…”

  “He’s the exact opposite of mature!” Isabeau spat. “He might be up there in years, but that number’s only second to the number of girls he’s fucked and thrown away!”

  “Come on, Isabeau,” said Martha, twirling her hair. “I have higher standards than that, but… you live on a vineyard. You know that wine is better when it’s aged.”

  Isabeau just didn’t say any more, as another reason why Martha and Blaise couldn’t have worked out reared its disturbing head. Blaise may have been handsome and had no shortage of women who would be with him if he simply asked them out, but he just wasn’t to Martha’s niche tastes. Isabeau came to realize, in that moment, that a certain other knight absolutely was. A certain knight who unquestioningly gave his life to make sure Martha could live. Was there another, weirder aspect to Sir Geoffroi’s guardianship over Martha? Isabeau quickly threw the thought away; she didn’t want to know. One thing was for sure: Isabeau’s new mission was to keep Martha and Loren’s philandering father as far away from each other as possible.