The Doomsday Code

left!’

She nodded. ‘There were difficulties. This battle is causing instability.’ She regarded the thick carpet of bodies beyond the city wall. ‘You are doing too well.’

Liam snorted humourlessly. ‘Too well? You’ve got to be joking. One more push and they’ll be through for sure.’

She shrugged. ‘Perhaps not. The light is failing and fighting will cease for the day. Another day will weaken the attacker’s resolve and strengthen the defender’s morale.’ She caught a glimpse of John, looking exhausted and drenched with sweat beneath the weight of his mail and helmet, and smeared with drying blood. He was talking animatedly with some of the other defenders, high on the adrenaline rush, sharing the water with them.

John is in danger of becoming an inspiring leader.

She tipped her head his way. ‘He is becoming strong.’

Liam followed her gaze and understood what she was saying. ‘This — this fight, it’s changing him, isn’t it? Changing his destiny.’

She nodded. ‘It is causing contamination.’

He noticed the box clasped under her arm. ‘You’ve brought it back. Does that mean …?’

She finished his thought. ‘Yes. It is safe to pass on to Richard. He will get nothing from it.’

Liam could hear Cabot talking to John now, the old friends embracing. Then the monk gestured up to the top of the mound towards Becks. Liam saw John’s face suddenly crease with relief and joy. They made their way up to join them.

‘My lady,’ gasped John, breathless.

Liam and Bob silently looked on in admiration as Becks swiftly changed her manner. ‘Sire,’ she replied softly, with a tender restrained smile that lingered just for him.

‘Sire,’ cut in Cabot, ‘Lady Rebecca has it right there.’ He was careful not to say Grail in case the word carried down the slope to the others. ‘You can now make terms with King Richard.’

John sneered. ‘I shall not bow down to him … to that animal. Never again!’

Becks reached a hand to his face and stroked his cheek. ‘My dear … you have shown your honour today, shown courage. You have been strong.’

‘The king will respect that,’ said Cabot. ‘Ye gave him a good fight, Sire.’

John spat a mouthful of thick phlegm at the ground. ‘I would sooner cut off his hand than kiss his royal ring!’

‘You have done what was necessary,’ whispered Becks. ‘Now you should make peace with your brother — ’

‘Or you’ll risk dividing this country with a war, Sire!’ said Cabot.

John’s eyes studied them both, then he nodded at Liam. ‘What do you say, Sheriff? You have led well here; I would trust your council as well.’

Liam wiped grime and sweat from his forehead. ‘I think they’re right, Sire.’ He pressed his lips together. ‘Nobody else needs to die here today.’ He glanced at the box. ‘And you can parlay reasonable terms now, Sire.’

John stroked his chin thoughtfully for a while. ‘But that brother of mine is a danger to this country. His endless wars — his crusades — his obsession with this — ’

‘My lord?’ Becks leaned towards him and whispered something in his ear. The expression on John’s face slowly changed as her lips moved.

‘How would you know of such things?’ John quietly replied a moment later.

She smiled at him. ‘You must trust me on this.’

He regarded her in silence for a long while. ‘Lady Rebecca … I have never before encountered someone quite so …’ He shook his head, struggling to find the right word.

‘Trust me,’ she whispered again. ‘Your time will come.’

He clamped his jaw and then finally, slowly, nodded. ‘I will speak with him, then.’

CHAPTER 82

1194, Nottingham

John noted the look of surprise on his older brother’s face as he entered the dark gloom of the tent.

‘Little brother,’ his deep voice growled with amusement, ‘you look like you have finally got your hands bloodied in battle.’

John stepped forward. He said nothing.

‘You surprise me,’ Richard laughed. ‘Finally, you seem to have outgrown your wet-nurse. I suppose, because you have at last managed to wield a sword in battle, that you consider yourself a man, uh?’ Richard’s smile turned to a sneer. ‘Hardly. You are still a snot-nosed whelp. But I will credit you with taking a first step.’

John met his stern gaze. ‘Thank you,’ he uttered flatly.

‘Now,’ Richard stood up. ‘The matter at hand. You have the Grail with you?’

John pulled the scroll from a fold in his tunic.

Richard slowly nodded. John could see the stretching pink of his lips among the thatch of blond bristles. ‘Oh yes,’ he whispered. ‘You have no idea, do you, little brother? No idea of the power this … this yard of parchment conveys?’

‘It is just words.’

Richard’s deep laugh filled the tent. ‘Just words, he says. Just words!’ He shook his head. ‘You are an imbecile. This is a message from God. A message given a thousand years ago — a message that was always intended for me. Do you not see? The wars I have fought, my crusade against the infidels … was at the Lord’s bidding. He spoke to me, told me where to find this message. And you thought to steal it from me? To use this to bargain with me?’

His face darkened. ‘I would happily cut out your tongue, little brother, pluck your eyes from their sockets and hurl your head into a field for the crows to dine on, for your daring to play with my destiny. But …’ he smiled, ‘but you have shown some spirit in fighting me today. I like that.’ He held his hand out towards John. ‘Now, give me the Grail and I will consider leniency for you.’

‘And what of the people of Nottingham?’

Richard’s thick eyebrows arched. ‘You actually care for those peasants?’

‘They fought with courage.’

‘They are no more than farm animals, little brother, beasts of burden. They fight because they are commanded to fight. No more brave than a horse that charges because its rider has kicked its flanks.’

‘I am asking for leniency for them.’

‘Their king has returned!’ Richard snapped irritably. ‘Those … those vermin dared to challenge my authority! A few hundred of their heads on spikes lining the road into Nottingham will ensure I have no more nonsense like this to deal with!’

John felt his resolve weaken. ‘But they were merely defending their homes.’

‘Give me the Grail.’

Push him not too far … he might still decide to have your head!

Richard’s outstretched fingers wriggled. ‘The Grail. Now!’

John clasped it more tightly. ‘Give me — ’

‘Give me?’ Richard’s eyes widened. ‘Give me? You say “give me”? I will give you exactly what I decide to give you! And if it is your life, then it is only because it is — because it is not wise for the common folk to see royal blood spilled!’

John could see his brother struggling to control a burning rage, a pinkness in his cheeks, a throbbing vein across his forehead.

Push him more … and he might strike your head off right now.

John felt whatever strength he’d entered the tent with, ebb quickly away.

‘I … I insist I have your word there will be no example made of them.’