Gaise rose smoothly to his feet, pulled on his boots, took up the brass coal bucket and opened his bedroom door. Beyond it was the gallery overlooking the entrance hall. No lanterns were burning and Gaise stood for a moment, allowing his eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. The faintest sign of light could be seen at the foot of the stairs, where a heavy velvet curtain had not been fully closed. Gaise moved across the gallery landing until he reached the safety rail. Keeping his hand to the bar he edged to his left and onto the stairs. His heart was beating fast now. If the Moidart discovered him stealing coal he would no doubt punish him severely. In that moment Gaise did not care. Slowly he descended into the hallway, then through to the kitchen. Here it was lighter, for there were no curtains to the panelled glass of the window. The rear door leading to the yard beyond was not locked. This surprised Gaise, for the Moidart was strict about security within the Winter House. Gaise smiled. When he returned with his coal he would lock the door, thus saving some poor servant from a flogging.
He stood silently, waiting for one of the sentries to pass by the kitchen window. It would not be wise for the Moidart’s son to be seen collecting coal. All the guards were obliged to note down every unusual activity while on watch. The Moidart scanned their records every week. Gaise waited. The grounds of the Winter House, though large, were easily patrolled at night. It would not take a man more than a few minutes to walk the perimeter of the house. Time dragged on. No guard passed the window. Gaise felt a flicker of annoyance. It was getting very cold standing here in naught but his night clothes.
Moving to the door, he lifted the latch. The guards were obviously huddled somewhere out of the cold. Gaise stepped outside and made his way to the coal store. With great care he half filled the bucket, then returned to the kitchen.
A dark figure flitted past the window. Gaise jerked. The man was moving fast and Gaise barely glimpsed him, yet he saw enough to know that it was no soldier. Retracing his steps Gaise walked back to the hallway – and saw that the main doors were now ajar.
Fear touched him. Stories of night creatures, demons and blood-drinkers swept up from the depths of his imagination. Angrily he forced them away. He had seen a man. No more than that. Probably one of the servants returning from an assignation with a serving girl. Gaise reached the staircase and began to climb. The coal bucket was heavy, and his arms were still weary from the sword work earlier in the day.
He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a cry which echoed from the gallery. There was a crash and a pale figure appeared at the top of the stairs. The light was not good, but Gaise could make out the Moidart’s sharp features. He was wearing a white nightshirt, stained at the shoulder by something dark. A black-garbed figure rushed at him, and the two men grappled and fell to the floor. Another man came into view. Gaise saw the gleam of a blade. With a great heave Gaise hurled the coal bucket at the knifeman. It struck him on the shoulder, knocking him back. Gaise ran up the stairs two at a time. He could hear the Moidart shouting: ‘Assassins! Assassins!’ But no guards came.
Gaise rushed at the knifeman. The blade slashed out. Gaise swerved and threw himself to his right. The assassin was fast. Gaise managed to block a thrust with his forearm. The knife blade slid along his sleeve, ripping the cloth and creating a shallow cut to his skin. Gaise leapt at the man, ramming his elbow into the assassin’s face and following it with a head butt to the nose. The assassin cried out and fell back, half stunned. In that split second Gaise sensed someone behind him and threw himself to his left. Something heavy cracked against his right shoulder sending searing pain into his neck. Gaise fell to the floor. The new attacker, wielding an iron club, ran in. His foot twisted on a lump of coal and he too fell. Gaise rolled to his feet and launched a kick into the newcomer’s face. The man made a grab for Gaise’s foot and missed. Gaise ran back to the gallery wall. It was decorated with shields and ancient weapons, lances and spears, broadswords and bows. Gaise tried to lift clear a sword, but it was held too firmly in place. Instead he grabbed a hunting lance, wrenching it from its bracket.