‘ Master Jared’s experiments . . .’ the old man muttered.
‘Pack the delicate things and get them down in the cellars.
Ralph, this is F— Prince Giles. This is my steward, Ralph...’ The old man bowed deeply, his arms full of Claudia’s scattered clothes. ‘Sire. I am so honoured to welcome you to the Wardenry. I only wish...’
‘We haven’t got time.’ Claudia turned. ‘Where’s Alys?’
‘Upstairs, madam. She arrived yesterday, with your messages. Everything has been done. The Warden’s levies have been raised. We have two hundred men billeted in the stable-block and more are arriving hourly.’ Claudia nodded. She flung open the doors of a large, wood-panelled chamber. Finn smelt the sweetness of roses outside its open casements as he strode in after her. ‘Good.
Weapons?’
‘You’ll need to consult with Captain Soames, my lady. I believe he’s in the kitchens.’
‘Find him. And Ralph.’ She turned. ‘I want all the servants assembled in the lower hail in twenty minutes.’ He nodded, his wig slightly askew. ‘I’ll see to it.’ At the door, just before he bowed himself out, he said, ‘Welcome back, my lady. We’ve missed you.’ She smiled, surprised. ‘Thank you.’ When the doors were closed Finn went straight to the cold meats and fruit laid out on the table. ‘He won’t be so pleased when the Queen’s army comes over the horizon.’ She nodded, and sat wearily in the chair. ‘Pass me some of that chicken.’ For a while they ate silently. Finn gazed round at the room, its white plaster ceiling pargeted with scrolls and lozenges, the great fireplace with the emblems of the black swan. The house was calm, the stillness drowsy with bees and the sweetness of roses.
‘So this is the Wardenry.’
‘Yes.’ She poured out some wine. ‘Mine, and staying mine.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ He put down his plate. ‘But there’s no way we can defend it.’ She scowled. ‘It has a moat and a drawbridge. It commands the land around. We have two hundred men.’
‘The Queen has cannon.’ He stood and walked to the window, pushing it open. ‘My grandfather chose the wrong Era for us. Something a bit more primitive would have kept us equal.’ He turned, quickly. ‘They will use the weapons of the time, won’t they? Do you think they might have things we don’t know about . . . relics of the War?’ The thought turned her cold. The Years of Rage had been a cataclysm that had destroyed a civilization; its energies had stilled the tides and hollowed the moon. ‘Let’s hope we’re too small a target.’ For a moment she crumbled cheese on her plate. Then she said, ‘Come on.’ The servants’ hall was a buzz of anxiety. As he walked in beside Claudia, Finn felt the noise subside, but a fraction too slowly. Grooms and maidservants turned; powdered footmen waited in elaborate livery.
There was a long wooden table in the centre; Claudia stepped up on to a bench and then on to the tabletop.
‘Friends.’ They were silent now, except for the doves cooing outside.
‘I’m very glad to be back home.’ She smiled, but he knew she was tense. ‘But things have changed. You’ll have had all the news from Court — you know about the two candidates for the throne. Well, things have come to such a point that we . . . I . . . have had to make a decision about which one I support.’ She stretched out her hand, and Finn stepped up beside her.
‘This is Prince Giles. Our future king. My betrothed.’ The last phrase astonished him but he tried not to show it.
He nodded at them gravely and they all stared up at him, their eyes taking in every travel-worn detail of his clothing, his face. He found himself standing tall, steeling himself not to flinch from that examination.
He should say something. He managed, ‘I thank you all for your support,’ but it produced not even a ripple. Alys was by the door, her hands gripped tight together. Ralph, near the table, said boldly, ‘God bless you, sire!’ Claudia didn’t wait for any response. ‘The Queen has declared the Pretender as her candidate. Essentially, this means civil war. I’m sorry to put it so bluntly, but it’s important you all understand what is happening here. Many of you have lived at the Wardenry for generations. You were my father’s servants. The Warden is no longer here, but I have spoken to him...’ That did produce a murmur.
‘Is he in favour of this prince?’ someone asked.
‘He is. But he would wish me to treat you with respect.
Therefore I say this.’ She folded her arms and gazed out at them. ‘The young women and all the children will leave immediately. I’ll give you an armed escort to the village, though it won’t be needed. As for the men and the senior staff, the choice is yours. No one who wants to go will be prevented. There’s no Protocol here any more.’ — I’m saying this to you as equals. You must make up your own minds.’ She paused, but there was silence, so into it she said, ‘Assemble in the courtyard at the midday bell, and Captain Soames’s men will take care of you. I wish you well.’
‘But my lady,’ someone said. ‘What will you do?’ It was a boy, near the back.
Claudia grinned at him. ‘Hello, Job. We’ll stay. Finn and I will use the . . . machinery in my father’s study to try and contact him in Incarceron. It will take time but . . .’
‘And Master Jared, ma’am.’ One of the maids’ voices, anxious. ‘Where is he? He would know what to do.’ There was a ripple of agreement. Claudia’s eyes slid to Finn. She said sharply, ‘Jared’s on his way. But we already know what to do. The true king has been found, and those who once tried to destroy him must not succeed again She was in control, but she had not won them over. Finn could sense that. There was a silent discontent, an unspoken doubt. They knew her too well, from a child. And though she was an imperious mistress they had probably never loved her. She wasn’t speaking to their hearts.
So he held his hand out, and took hers. ‘Friends, Claudia is right to give you a choice. I owe everything to her. Without her I would be dead now, or worse, thrown back into the hell of Incarceron. I wish I could tell you what her support means. But to do that I would have to explain the Prison to you, and I won’t do that, because I dare not speak about it, it hurts me even to think of it.’ They were intent; the word Incarceron was like a charm.
Finn allowed his voice to tremble.
‘I was a child. I was snatched from a world of beauty and peace to a torment of pain and hunger, a hell where men murder each other without a care, where women and children sell themselves to stay alive. I know about death.
I’ve suffered the miseries of the poor. I know about loneliness, how wretched it is to be alone and terrified in a maze of echoing halls and dark dread. This is the knowledge Incarceron gave me. And when I am King, this is the knowledge I will use. There will be no more Protocol, no more fear. No more being locked in. I will do my best — I swear this to you my best to make this Realm a true paradise, and a free world for all its people. And Incarceron too. That’s all I can say to you. All I can promise you. Except that if we lose I will kill myself rather than go back there The silence was different. It was caught in their throats.
And when a soldier growled, ‘I’m with you, my lord: another answered at once, and then another, and suddenly the room was a hubbub of voices until Ralph’s reedy ‘God save Prince Giles’ had them roaring their approval.
Finn smiled, wan.
Claudia watched him, and when their eyes met she saw there was a triumph in him, quiet but proud.
Keiro had been right, she thought. Finn could talk his way to a crown.
She turned. A footman was pushing his way through to her, white and wide-eyed. She crouched, and his voice, thin and terrified, silenced the hubbub.
‘They’re here, my lady. The Queen’s army is here.’
25
Some say a vast pendulum swings in the heart of the Prison, or that there is a chamber there white-hot with energy, like the core of a star. For mys4f I think that if lncarceron has a heart it is icy, and nothing could survive there.
