Ramus sighed. Acts of violence were beyond his imagination. Never in his life had he desired to hurt anyone. This latest attempt on the Moidart’s life would cause great anger among the Varlish. It was likely there would be riots and bloodshed in Eldacre, followed by more arrests and hangings. Ramus felt the weight of sadness heavy upon him.
Thirty-two years ago his own father had been hanged for stealing a sheep. He had not stolen the sheep, and the true culprit was discovered later. The Lord of Goriasa had sent five pounds in gold coin as recompense for the mistake. The family had used part of the money to pay for Ramus’s tuition at the Apothecary College. His mother had spent her remaining years hating the lord, her soul corroded by bitterness and resentment. Ramus’s brother, Aborain, had taken to the hills for a life of outlawry and murder, culminating in his execution on the same scaffold which claimed his father.
On the night of Aborain’s hanging armed soldiers had come for Ramus, taking him before the lord. ‘Do you wish revenge?’ the Lord of Goriasa had asked.
‘No, sir.’
‘Yet you hate me?’
‘I hate no-one, sir. My brother deserved to die for the sins of his life. My father did not deserve to die. But his killing was an error, and not born of malice.’
‘You know why you are here?’
‘You are considering whether it would be prudent to kill me.’
‘You seem very calm, young man.’
‘I cannot prevent you killing me, sir, if that be your will.’
The lord had sat silently for a while, watching the young apothecary. Then he had drawn in a deep breath. ‘I will not kill you. Equally I cannot have you living within my realm. It would concern me that you might one day discover hatred in your heart. I shall give you coin, and you will travel far from here. There is always a need for apothecaries. So where will you journey?’
‘I have always liked mountains, sir.’
‘Then cross the sea, Master Ramus. Travel to the north and find a home in the Druagh mountains. I am told it is very beautiful there.’
‘I will, sir. Thank you.’
‘A man should not be thanked for resisting evil. I wish you well, Master Ramus.’
‘And I you, lord.’
The sound of shouting cut through the old man’s memories. Angry voices could be heard. Ramus rose from his chair, pushing shut the heavy store-room door.
Now there was silence.
Mulgrave reined in the chestnut and sat gazing out over Old Hills Lake. The water was shimmering in the afternoon sunshine, the jagged lines of the western mountains reflected upon the still surface. The sight of the lake calmed him. ‘We are such fleeting creatures,’ he told Gaise Macon. ‘Here for a heartbeat and then gone for ever.’
‘Why do you say that with a smile?’ asked the young noble, drawing his own palomino gelding alongside Mulgrave’s mount.
‘It makes the evil of men more bearable to know that it is largely of no account,’ replied Mulgrave.
‘If that be the truth,’ said Gaise, ‘then the good that men do is also of no account.’
Mulgrave chuckled. ‘Now there is something worth debating, sir.’ The smile faded. A cold wind blew off the lake, a gust billowing Mulgrave’s grey cloak. The sudden movement caused the palomino to rear. Gaise fought for control, calming the horse. A lesser rider would have been thrown. ‘You handle him well, sir.’
‘He is a skittish beast,’ said Gaise, leaning forward to stroke the palomino’s golden neck. For a moment the two riders sat silently, as Mulgrave once more turned his attention to the glittering water.
‘Why did you want me to ride with you to the apothecary?’ asked Gaise.
Mulgrave sighed. He was entering unknown territory here. ‘I wanted to tell you that your actions last night filled me with pride, sir. You tackled armed men. You did not run. You saved your father’s life. Of that there is no doubt.’
Gaise Macon reddened. ‘I was stealing coal,’ he said.
Mulgrave swore suddenly, and swung in the saddle to face the younger man. ‘You are a fine man, Gaise. You have it in you to be a great one. Do not let the man’s malice change you.’