Slowly Josse ran his eyes all around the crowded courtyard as if assessing the number of people in the procession. Finally looking over at the bridge, he instantly picked out the guard to whom the queen referred. ‘Aye, my lady,’ he said softly.
‘When all is quiet and the castle is abed tonight, seek him out. He lodges in a small house close to the port. On its door there is an iron hoop in the shape of a dolphin.’
Josse bowed again. ‘I will, madam.’
She glared down at him for a long moment. Then she gave an abrupt nod, kicked the sides of her horse and set off at a smart trot across the courtyard and over the bridge. The long train of her attendants and her baggage snaked after her, leaving behind, when the last of them had gone and the dust had settled, a sudden silence in the courtyard that seemed almost unnatural.
Josse decided that there was no need to involve Gussie yet, since there could surely be no danger in simply walking down to the harbour to have a chat with one of the castle guards. Accordingly, after supper that night Josse dismissed the young man with the suggestion that he turn in early and catch up on his sleep. Gussie did not need much persuasion; he was already yawning widely as he and Josse said goodnight.
Josse found a quiet corner at the end of the stable block and sat patiently watching and waiting. Guards came and went on their patrols and, as darkness fell, only a handful were left on watch. He had noticed the previous evening that they did not seem to be in the habit of lowering the great portcullis at night; presumably they felt that the narrow stretch of water between the island and the mainland was defence enough. Anyway, the queen would not have ordered him to slip out under cover of the dark if an iron portcullis stood in the way.
He noticed that the patrolling guards passed the bridge less frequently now. If he ran, he ought to be able to get out of the castle without being observed. Not giving himself time to worry about what might happen if they did see him, he stepped softly out of his corner, sprinted across the courtyard and over the bridge. Then he was racing down the winding approach to the castle, keeping to the shadows, and he knew by the silence that they hadn’t spotted him.
He slowed to a walk, panting from exertion. The road led straight to the little harbour, where more of the sort of craft that had carried Josse and his party across the straits lay tied to the jetty. Opposite the water, there was a row of mean-looking dwellings that seemed to lean against the low cliff behind them. Some still showed a light, and Josse could hear the sound of voices. He walked slowly along the row and came to a door whose handle was decorated with a hoop in the shape of a leaping fish. Whether or not it was a dolphin did not seem important and he was prepared to take the queen’s word for it.
He tapped on the door. Nothing happened. He tapped again, a little more forcefully, and suddenly the door opened. A fist closed on his tunic, he was dragged inside, and the door was closed quietly behind him. The room smelled dank, as if it were hewn from rock, and the air within was chilly. It was pitch black. The hand on Josse’s tunic eased and there was a muttered apology. There came the scratch of a flint and a tallow lamp flared. In its light Josse saw that he was face to face with the swarthy guard.
‘Did they see you?’ the guard said, fear very evident in his low voice.
‘No,’ Josse said shortly. ‘You know, then, why I have come.’ It seemed the only explanation for the guard’s furtive, frightened manner.
‘Oh, yes,’ the dark man said. Then, wearily, ‘Wish I’d had the sense to keep my mouth shut.’
‘But you didn’t,’ Josse said, ‘and now I am tasked with hearing what you have to say.’ And deciding whether or not you speak the truth, he could have added.
As if the man heard the unspoken thought, he said, ‘It’s true. It’s all too true.’ He sank down on to a roughly made bench that stood beside a flimsy table — those items and a low, narrow cot appeared to be the room’s only furniture — and rubbed his face with both hands. A muffled sob escaped him, an unexpected sound in a man of his tough appearance, and he said, ‘God help me, I wish I could say I made it all up, but I can’t. As God is my witness, I saw what I saw and I would swear it before the highest authority in the land.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘And that’d be just what the new king would want to hear!’
Josse folded his arms, leaned back against the door and said, ‘You’d better explain.’
The dark man shot him a suspicious glance. ‘What have you been told?’
‘They say — ’ Josse thought it better not to mention the queen — ‘that there is a group of knights on the island and that they are involved in foul practices. Devil worship, apparently, and the abuse of young boys.’
The man was rigid with tension. ‘What else?’ he demanded.
Josse hesitated. Then, for there seemed to be no choice, ‘It is said the late king is involved.’
Now the man relaxed. Nodding, looking knowingly up at Josse with a sardonic smile, he said, ‘And she’s sent you to find out if it’s true.’ Josse did not reply. ‘Oh, it’s true all right.’
Josse said, ‘Tell me.’
The man did not speak for some moments. He got up and stepped over to the door and, as Josse moved aside, opened it the merest crack and peered out. Satisfied, he shut it again, barred it and resumed his seat on the bench. Then, as if he had to get on with his tale before his resolve evaporated, he said in a low, swift mutter, ‘There’s this knight, Philippe de Loup. He’s got a stronghold on the island, a castle that’s more like a fortress, right up on the north-west tip, where the winds blow and the sea frets come up like will-o’-the-wisps and hide the evil that’s done there. They call it World’s End and I tell you, they’re right. Nobody goes there unless they have to — it’s haunted, it is, and we all avoid the place like it were the devil’s own.’
‘I was told there was a group of them,’ Josse said. ‘This de Loup’s companions must go there.’
‘Oh, they do,’ the guard agreed. Leaning closer, he said, ‘They call themselves the Knights of Arcturus, although other folk refer to them as the Thirteen Nobles. They keep themselves to themselves, I’ll give them that, but it’s the way of it that people who make a dead secret of their comings and goings are always the subject of far more gossip and speculation than those who live their lives in the open for all to see.’
‘I’ve never heard of either title,’ Josse said.
‘No, well, they’re secret, like I say,’ the guard said testily. ‘Few folk have heard of them, for all that they’ve been around for a hundred years or more.’ His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. ‘They guard something too terrible to be spoken aloud.’
‘I see.’ Josse wondered exactly where accuracy stopped and fear-fuelled local folklore began. ‘So how does all this involve… er, involve the important person who is recently deceased?’
The guard frowned momentarily, as if working out what Josse meant. Then, the cynical smile back on his face, he said, ‘Oh, him. Well, they were here, de Loup and his knights, back in March. Towards the beginning of March, as I recall.’ A few weeks before King Richard died, Josse thought. ‘They came by night and the weather was foul, with a westerly blowing hard and seas as high as they come around here. I’ll give those knights credit for their seamanship and their courage, I’ll tell you that — you wouldn’t have caught me crossing the straits on a night like that. Anyway, they landed safely and set off at a fast pace out across the island to de Loup’s fortress. Something terrible happened that night. Screams were heard coming from the tower, dreadful, horrifying, agonized screams, enough to make a man’s blood freeze in his body, and through the arrow slits in the room above that great fortified entrance there poured a brilliant, unearthly blue light that suddenly changed to blood red.’ He sat back with a nod, as if to say, what do you make of that?
Josse was thinking hard. Screams were heard, he repeated to himself. Who heard them? But perhaps now was not the moment to ask. ‘Go on,’ he said neutrally.
The guard blinked in surprise. Josse wondered if he had expected a more awed response to his tale. ‘Later that night, three men were seen riding away,’ he said. ‘One was tall and thin, fairish, like; one was short and lightly built; the third was broad in the shoulder, a big man. All three wore dark cloaks and pulled their hoods forward to conceal their faces. They raced across to the lee side of the island, where a small boat was waiting, abandoned their horses and climbed in. The boat set out instantly and they were rowed out to a larger craft standing off in the sheltered waters at the northern end of the straits. As soon as they were safely aboard, she raised her anchor, set sail and swiftly disappeared off into the night.’ He fixed Josse with intent dark eyes. ‘The broad-shouldered man was King Richard.’
Dear God in heaven, Josse thought. For this man to state such a frightful thing with absolute certainty, he must be very sure of his facts. He said, ‘You tell me that screams “were heard”, and three men “were seen”. Who heard? Who saw? Is this witness truthful?’
The guard grinned. ‘I guessed you’d try that,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you who heard the screams and saw that dreadful, unnatural light: it was my brother. He gets supplies in for de Loup and he’d done so that day. He went to
