‘Yes, sir. There’s a whisper that Jaim Grymauch might cause trouble.’
‘Believe it, sergeant. As soon as he shows himself I want him taken. I’d prefer it were he to be taken alive.’
That might not be possible, captain. He’s a big bastard, and if he’s armed he’ll be a handful.’
‘I think a hundred men should be sufficient to render him harmless.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Sergeant Packard, his voice doubtful. ‘Why would he come? He can’t stop it. He’ll just be throwing his life away.’
Galliott rose from his desk and walked to the window. In the far distance he could see clouds over the snow-capped mountains. ‘He’ll come because he has to,’ said Galliott sadly. He turned back towards Packard. ‘He’ll come because that’s what heroes do. They fight for what is right, no matter what the cost.’
‘If he’s a hero, sir, doesn’t that make us villains?’
‘It does today, sergeant.’
Alterith Shaddler swung his skinny legs from his bed and sat up. The morning was cold with the promise of winter. He had, despite his grief and the pain from his back, dozed fitfully during the long night. There was a little blood upon the sheets, but the wounds from the lash were healing fast. Apothecary Ramus had visited him the night before, giving him, free of charge, a cooling balm. Alterith had accepted it with thanks and had managed to smear some on his shoulders and sides. But he could not reach the cuts between his shoulder blades, and these pulled tight whenever he moved.
The schoolteacher crossed the small room and placed kindling atop the ashes in the fireplace. Several long sulphur sticks had been placed in a narrow brass cylinder by the fire, and he struck one upon the brickwork. It flared into life and he touched it to the kindling. After a little while, his fire burning merrily, he added small coals. The north wind rattled the window. It was past dawn and Alterith padded over to it, gazing out over the town. In the street below ten highland men were standing silently, seemingly impervious to the cold.
Alterith Shaddler had never known popularity. In all his years he had never developed the social skills necessary. When he had left the Holy Court yesterday crowds had cheered him – and not just highlanders. Black-garbed Varlish had applauded as he passed. The persecution of a good woman was too high a price to pay for such regard. Alterith would swap it in an instant, and accept a life of cold loneliness, for the chance to turn back the clock, and see Maev Ring free.
He had seen the clanswoman last night. She had given Banny enough money to see the school run for another five years without further input. ‘After that I am sure my nephew Kaelin will continue to support you,’ she said.
‘I am so sorry, madam,’ he told her. ‘I fear you needed a better advocate.’
‘You will call me Maev, Alterith Shaddler. And I could have wished for no better man to speak up for me. I meant what I said in that court. I have spent my life hating all Varlish. I saw no good in them. You, and Gillam Pearce, and Master Shelan, have given me peace of heart.’
They had sat quietly then in the small cell. Alterith had not told her of the return of Jaim Grymauch, even when she spoke of him. ‘When he does come back you will make it clear to him that I do not desire vengeance. He should marry Parsha Willets and put this . . . this tawdry business behind him.’
‘Parsha Willets?’
‘She is a friend of Jaim’s,’ said Maev. Suddenly she laughed. ‘Why am I being coy? Parsha is what we used to call an earth maiden. Jaim is fond of her, and she loves him utterly.’
‘I have no experience of such matters,’ he said, ‘save what I have
read in the great romances. However, in my readings I have come
to the conclusion that fond is not enough. Is that how you feel
towards Jaim? Are you fond of him?’
‘My feelings are my own,’ she replied testily.