Part 16 (1/2)
James said, ”I'll get pen and paper and copy these. By noon tomorrow I'll know who these makers are.”
Arutha nodded and James sent a page scurrying off. In less than five minutes he was back and he said, ”Squire, I've just been told they've been looking for you all evening.”
Arutha glanced over and said, ”Who are 'they'?”
”Jailer Morgon, sire, and his men.”
Arutha indulged himself in a slight smile and said, ”Why is the jailer looking for you, James?”
James said, ”I'll go find out.” He handed the pen and paper to William and said, ”Do your best.”
James left the examination of the dead men to the Prince and hurried along after the page. They parted company when the page headed upstairs to the main floor of the palace, while James turned and headed down deeper into the dungeon. He reached the door to the jailer's small apartment and knocked.
”Who is it?” came the voice from the other side.
”Squire James. You sent for me?”
”Oh, yes,” said the voice. The door opened and Morgon the Chief Jailer looked out. He was dressed for bed in a gray flannel nights.h.i.+rt. ”Just turning in, squire. I sent that boy to find you hours ago.”
”I was out of the palace until a while ago. What can I do for you?”
The jailer said, ”Nothing for me, but there's a bloke down in the lock-up claims he needs to talk to you.” Morgon was a narrow-faced man of advancing years, but his hair had stayed almost uniformly black in all the time James had lived at the palace. He cut it straight across the forehead and down before the ears, so he looked as if he was wearing a black hat with ear flaps. ”Bit odd, if you ask me. He's been in lock-up for almost three weeks now, and hasn't said a thing to anybody. But his trial's tomorrow so suddenly he's shouting for you.”
”Do you know his name?”
”Didn't ask,” said Morgon, fighting off a yawn. ”Should I have?”
”I'll go see who it is. Who's on duty?”
”Sikes. He'll take you to him.”
”Good night, Morgon.”
”Night, squire,” said the jailer, closing the door.
James hurried down the small pa.s.sage that led to the stairs down into the deeper dungeon. The dungeon had two levels. The upper level was excavated so that narrow windows in the cells let in light, and through which courtyard hangings could be watched by those in the death-cells.
The lower level was pitch black. Here the palace dungeon was really a vast gallery with four large metal cages in it, the bars running from floor to ceiling. A cross formed by two paths divided the cells from one another. A torch at the foot of the stairs at the end of one of the walkways was the only source of light for the entire vast dungeon. A solider stood beneath the torch and turned as James came down the steps.
”Squire,” he said in greeting.
”Someone looking for me down here?” asked James.
”Bloke in the far cell. I'll take you there.”
James followed as the soldier took the torch from its wall holder and led him past the first two cells, both of which were empty. The two far cells were full of men, mostly sleeping, and a few women huddled together for mutual protection in the corners. These were the brawlers, drunks and troublemakers who were guilty of enough chronic lawbreaking as to be facing the Prince's justice. Some of the prisoners called out questions, which James ignored.
The soldier led James to the far end of the cell and James saw the large man waiting with his hands on the bars.
When he stopped before him, James heard the man say, ”Glad to see you, Jimmy.”
James said, ”Ethan. I thought you long gone.”
The former Abbot of Ishap, former basher in the Mockers, said, ”As did I, but the G.o.ds have other plans for us.”
”Us?”
With his chin he motioned over his shoulder. ”I've got Kat and Limm with me.”
”When's your trial?”
”Tomorrow.”
”What's the charge?”
”Charges. Unlawful flight, resisting arrest, battery, rioting, and probably treason as well.”
James turned to the guard and said, ”Get them out of there and bring them to my quarters.”
”Squire?”
”I said get them out of there and bring them to my quarters. Put men outside my door until I send them back to you.”
The guard still seemed uncertain.
”Would you like me to run up to annoy the Prince for his personal signed order?”
The guard, like almost everyone else in the garrison, knew the squire could get the Prince's warrant if he needed to, so he thought better of delaying the inevitable and said, ”I'll get some of the boys to bring them to you.”
”See you upstairs, Ethan,” James said and left.
A short time later there was a knock at the door of James's room. Graves, Kat and Limm stood before him, shackled and cuffed in irons. ”Remove the irons and wait outside,” ordered James.
”Yes, squire,” answered the senior guard.
After the irons were off and the door closed, James indicated a tray he had sent in before they got there, upon which was a pitcher of ale, cheese, bread and cold beef. Limm dug in without hesitation. Graves loaded up a platter for himself and Kat while she filled two flagons.
”Last I saw you, Ethan, you were going to get Kat and head for Kesh.”
Graves nodded. ”That was the plan.”
”What happened?”
Graves said, ”It took me almost a week to find Kat, and then set up the move to Durbin. We were lying low, had a nice little place in the poor quarter, waiting for the day our s.h.i.+p was heading out. Then the murders started.” He looked at Limm and indicated the boy should continue the story.
Limm said, ”We've been banging up against this Crawler and his men for a while now, squire. You remember last month when Old Donk turned up dead?”
James nodded, even though he was vague as to who Old Donk had been and when he had died.
”Then you must have heard how some bashers were killed out at the docks?”