The courier deftly retrieved the parchment, rerolled it, and slid it back into its scrollcase. As he glanced about idly, awaiting Gareth’s return with the prisoner, his gaze alighted on the bier. Instantly his face assumed an expression of deep sorrow.
“Their Majesties extend their sympathy to Lady Rogar. If they can be of service, her ladyship can be assured that she has only to call upon them.”
“Her ladyship will be most grateful,” said Magicka sourly.
The courier, smiling once again, began to slap his gloves impatiently against his thigh. Gareth was leading the prisoner past the King’s Own, but there was as yet no sign of a fresh mount. “About that dragon-”
“Here, my lord, take this one,” cried the old stablemaster eagerly, offering the reins of the lord’s dragon to the messenger.
“Are you certain?” queried the courier, glancing from the bier to the wizard. He was, of course, familiar with the custom of sacrificing the dragon-no matter how valuable-in honor of the fallen.
Magicka, with a furious snort, waved his hand. “Why not? Carry my lord’s murderer away on my lord’s most prized dragon! King’s business, after all!”
“Yes, it is,” said the courier. “King’s business.”
The King’s Own suddenly shifted their stance, turning their spears point outward and locking shields to form a circle of steel around the courier and those who stood near him.
“Perhaps there are some aspects of the king’s business you would be interested in discussing with His Majesty. Our gracious monarch will be happy to arrange for the governing of this province in your absence, Magicka.”
The shadow of the wings of the circling battle dragon slid over the courtyard.
“No, no,” protested the wizard hastily. “King Stephen has no more loyal subject than myself! You may assure him of that!”
The courier bowed and answered Magicka with a charming smile. The soldiers surrounding him remained attentive and on alert.
Gareth, sweating beneath his leather helm, entered the circle of steel. The captain knew how close he’d come to being ordered to fight the King’s Own and his stomach was still clenching.
“Here’s your man,” Gareth said gruffly, shoving Hugh forward.
The courier took in the prisoner with one swift glance that noted the lash marks on the back, the bruises and cuts on the face, the swollen lip. Hugh, his dark sunken eyes seeming to have vanished completely in the shadows beneath his brows, regarded the courier with a detached curiosity that held no hope, only a sardonic expectation of further torment.
“Cut loose his arms and unlock those manacles.”
“But, my lord, he is dangerous-”
“He cannot ride like that and I have no time to waste. Do not worry”-the courier waved a negligent hand-“unless he can sprout wings, I do not think he will try to escape by leaping from the back of a flying dragon.”
Gareth drew his dagger and cut the bonds around Hugh’s arms. The stablemaster, summoning his helpers with a cry, gingerly entered the ring of steel, removed the saddle from the courier’s spent mount, and put it on the back of Lord Rogar’s dragon. Patting the dragon’s neck, the stablemaster cheerfully passed the reins to the courier. The old man would not see the dragon again; whatever came into King Stephen’s hands never left. But it was far better to lose it than be forced to thrust a knife into the throat of a creature who loved and trusted him, then watch its life spill out, wasted on a man dead and gone.
The courier mounted. Reaching down his hand, he held it out to Hugh. The assassin appeared for the first time to comprehend the fact that he was freed, his head was not on the block, that terrible sword was not about to sever his life. Moving stiffly and painfully, he stretched out his hand, caught hold of the courier’s, and let the man pull him up on the dragon’s back.
“Bring him a cloak. He’ll freeze,” ordered the courier. Many capes were offered, and he selected one of thick fur and tossed it to Hugh. The prisoner wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, reached back and gripped firmly the rim of the dragon’s saddle. The courier spoke a word of command and the dragon, with a trumpeting call, spread his wings and soared upward.