The Void of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood Book 3)(12)

“Let them,” Trefew sneered. “We’ll give them her corpse.”

“But if the king is—”

“Shut it!” Trefew interrupted, his eyes blazing with fury. “I have my orders from Chancellor Crabwell. Go, man!”

Maia looked at Suzenne in desperation, and saw the same startled expression on her friend’s face. Something was wrong. Something had happened. Something to do with her father.

“Tell me, Captain,” Maia insisted, stopping and wrenching against his arm.

He glowered at her, his eyes full of spite. “You want to be dragged to the gallows, my lady? Very well.”

“No!” Maia snapped obstinately. “Tell me what happened to my father.”

She saw him flinch at the word. His oily assurance was gone now. He was afraid. Desperate. When men were desperate, they were impulsive.

“He is dying,” Trefew growled abruptly. “Poisoned.”

Maia stared at him in horror.

“His last order was to have you killed,” Trefew whispered, his jaw convulsing. “Carew could not stomach it. Neither could some of the others at court.” He pulled her hand hard, bringing her face close to his. “But I can stomach it. For an earldom. There will be even more earldoms vacant soon.”

The feel of his breath wafting against her face almost made her gag. But she stared into his eyes, pleading with him to see reason. “This is wrong, Captain. I am the Princess of Comoros. Release me and I will show you mercy.”

His teeth clashed together, his lips twitching. “I do not want your mercy, lass. But if you promised me something more . . . interesting? Still, I think you will not.”

Suzenne gasped with outrage and lifted her hand to strike him across the face, but the soldier who restrained her yanked her off balance and she nearly fell down.

“To the gallows!” Trefew roared, pulling Maia down the corridor after him. As soon as they left the corridor and entered another, she could hear the tumult of the rest of the castle. Everywhere there was shouting, the stamping of boots, and the murmur of voices.

Other soldiers filed in around them as they marched down the tiled floor that was polished to a shine. They were still in Pent Tower, but they were now on the main floor, heading toward the greenyard. Maia’s heart was afire with emotions, tumbling and fighting inside her bosom. Her father had ordered her execution as he lay dying. Even at the brink of death, he would not admit he was wrong . . . he would not protect his only heir. It caused her so much pain, she almost felt like giving in to death.

I will obey the Medium’s will, she thought in despair. Whatever that may be.

“Clear the doors!” Trefew shouted. “Quickly!”

Another soldier ran up. “The Privy Council is assembling on the lawn, Trefew, but some are refusing. They are summoning their retinues.”

“Cowards. They are squeamish,” Trefew snapped. “It will be over too soon. They will fall next.”

The cavernous doors before them creaked open, and Maia saw the first flush of dawn in the sky. There were soldiers outside on the green. Her heart hammered in her chest as she was dragged toward the gallows, where she had watched Lady Deorwynn meet her fate the day before. Then a strange peace suffused her, as if a calming whisper were sounding in her ears. The Apse Veil was open. She had fulfilled the Covenant. No matter what happened now, she had done her duty to the Medium. Maia glanced back at Suzenne, who winced with pain at the grip the soldiers had on her arms. She tried to give her friend a comforting smile.

Suzenne looked back at her, her eyes blinking back tears, and nodded.

Another soldier ran up with a drawn sword. “The mob is trying to force the gate,” he shouted.

“Who is guarding it?” Trefew asked. He glanced around at the soldiers alongside, easily more than a dozen men. The numbers gave him confidence. “If any man tries to help them get through, kill him!”

“We have pikemen ready in case the mob breaks down the gate. They are tradesmen mostly, not soldiers. But they fill the streets. Some are even trying to climb the walls.”

Trefew looked bewildered at that, as if he had not expected such effort on Maia’s behalf. “They are all mad! Have the pikemen stab through the portcullis. Start killing them now rather than waiting for them to burst through.”

“Aye, Captain,” the soldier saluted, and rushed off.

The gallows were small, but a growing crowd had assembled before them. Foremost was the Earl of Forshee, who was on horseback and surrounded by men wearing his livery. Of course he was present. Some of the witnesses were female. One man in the crowd was shouting at Forshee angrily. Then she recognized him from the day before. It was the Earl of Caspur.

As they marched, Maia saw another man come running up. They reached the crowd, and the assembled parted like a curtain, opening a path to the threshold. Maia swallowed, still feeling a strange inner calm despite the hurricane of tumult about her.

The page handed the Earl of Forshee a scroll. He took it, snapped off the caps, and then quickly scanned the content of the message. His face contorted into a frown, but he nodded for the boy to run off.

“What does it say?” Caspur demanded.

They were close enough now to hear what was being said.

“The king is dead,” Forshee muttered. “That is all. Crabwell issues his first order. The princess must die.”