David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart

‘Bruises will heal,’ said Alterith. ‘They want to kill Maev Ring.’

‘I know, and that saddens me,’ said Gillam Pearce. ‘She is a fine, shrewd businesswoman. But what can I do, Master Shaddler? Fifteen upstanding citizens claim she bewitched them. If I say they are all liars I will be ruined. No-one will buy from me. Worse, when she is found guilty I will be accused of being her accomplice and then I too will face the rope or the burning. So what is it you ask of me? To stand up before the Church and tell them the truth, though it destroys me?’

‘Yes,’ said Alterith, ‘that is what I ask.’

‘And what would the purpose be, pray? We will not save Maev Ring.’

‘All trials are recorded, Master Pearce. Recorded for posterity, the evidence sent on to the church authorities in Varingas. That is why the knights are so anxious that you do not speak. Not because you will make a difference to the verdict, which has already been bought and paid for by Jorain Feld, but because their infamy will be seen in your testimony. This trial is a sham; a mockery of all we should believe in. Someone needs to say that on the record. If Maev Ring must go to her death over this, then she should know she had loyal friends, men of honour and courage. Men unafraid to speak the truth and shame the vile.’

Gillam Pearce began to laugh.

‘Have I said something to amuse you, sir?’ asked Alterith stiffly.

‘Of course you have, my friend. Look at us; a skinny schoolteacher and a worn-out cobbler. What a terrifying army we make against the might of the Church and the Knights of the Sacrifice. We shall have them quaking in their boots.’

‘Then you will speak for Maev?’

Gillam moved to a small desk by the far wall. From a drawef he took a sheaf of papers. ‘This is my affidavit, sworn out three days ago and witnessed. Take it and keep it safe. It will still be admissible in evidence even if they do carry out their threat to kill me.’

Alterith pushed the papers into the pocket of his coat. ‘I am in your debt, sir,’ he said.

‘Not at all, Master Shaddler. I thank you for reminding me what honour means. I shall – if the Source is willing – be at the Holy Court.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

KAELIN RING SAT UPON THE GROUND, WAITING FOR A BREAK IN THE clouds. The weather had not favoured the three hundred and twenty-two men, and the night was pitch dark, storm clouds rolling across the sky.

Arik Ironlatch moved alongside him. ‘What is your plan?’ he asked.

Kaelin could scarcely make out the man’s grizzled features. ‘We go down in squads of twenty,’ he said. ‘The ledges will not accommodate more. That is, of course, if the clouds break and give us the moon.’

‘They will or they won’t,’ said Arik. ‘No point worrying about it.’

Kaelin did not reply. His stomach was tight with worry, and there was little he could do about it. When they had first reached the peaks there had been a little light, and Kaelin had walked to the lip and gazed down. The rock face he had climbed late yesterday seemed doubly daunting now, dark and sheer, the trees far below. His confidence, so high when he spoke at the meeting, was draining away by the moment. The wind was gusting, and there was the smell of rain in the air.

Climbing was perilous in good conditions, but to attempt a night descent was fraught with problems. In climbing up a man could see the holds just above him, but descending meant feeling your way. The face was exposed. Billowing winds could dislodge a climber, or rain could make the rock slippery and treacherous.

Kaelin’s mouth was dry. He pictured the climb, breaking it down in his mind. The ropes would help. There were a number of trees near the lip, and the men could lower themselves to the first of the ledges. He tried to recall if there were jutting rocks that would support ropes further down. Then he realized Arik was speaking again.

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