Emrin’s head sagged forward. Blood was dripping from his mouth. His upper body was a sea of pain. ‘I don’t seem to be hearing any more smart remarks,’ said Shad. His fist thundered against the side of Emrin’s head. The chair to which he was tied swayed and fell to the floor. ‘Get him up!’ ordered Shad. Rough hands grabbed him. He felt sick as he was wrenched upright.
Shad’s fingers took hold of Emrin’s hair, yanking his head back. ‘You want to say something funny now, Emrin?’ he asked. Emrin’s left eye was closed, but he stared silently into Shad’s hatchet face. He wanted to summon up the courage for another insult, but there was nothing left. ‘You see, lads, he wasn’t so tough.’
‘I don’t . . . know anything,’ whispered Emrin. Shad’s fist slammed into his face, rocking his head back.
Emrin spat out a broken tooth and sagged forward once more. Shad yanked his head back. ‘I no longer care if you know anything, Emrin. I’ve always hated you. Did you know that? Strutting around, fine as you like, with the Grey Man’s money in your pockets. Buying the pretty girls, looking down on us common soldiers. So you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to beat you to death. I’m going to watch you suffocate on your own blood. What do you think of that?’
‘Hey, come on, Shad,’ put in another soldier, ‘there’s no call for that.’
‘You can shut your mouth! If you’re that squeamish wait outside.’
Emrin’s heart sank as he heard the rasp of the door latch being lifted.
‘Now what shall we do first to entertain you, Emrin?’ asked Shad. ‘Perhaps we should cut off your fingers. Or maybe . . .’ Emrin felt the touch of a dagger against his groin. For the first time he screamed, the sound echoing around the ceiling of the Oak Room.
Hurling himself back against the chair Emrin tipped it and crashed to the floor, struggling furiously with his bonds. ‘Pick him up,’ ordered Shad. The two remaining guards moved to the chair.
From his position on the floor Emrin saw the door open. The Grey Man stepped inside,, a small double-winged crossbow in his hand.
‘Cut him loose,’ said the Grey Man, ‘and I shall let you live.’ His voice was calm and conversational. The three soldiers in the room backed away, drawing their weapons.
It was Shad who spoke first. ‘Big of you,’ he said. ‘But that weapon only has two bolts. There are three of us.’
The Grey Man’s arm extended. A bolt sliced through the air, punching into Shad’s throat. He stumbled back then fell to his knees, choking on his own blood. ‘Now there are two of you,’ said the Grey Man. ‘Cut him loose.’
The guards cast nervous glances at the dying Shad. One drew a knife and slashed through the ropes binding Emrin to the chair. Then he dropped the weapon and backed away to the wall. The other man followed his lead. The Grey Man walked past Emrin to the mortally wounded Shad. The man was weakly trying to pull the bolt from his throat. The Grey Man wrenched it clear. Blood spurted from the wound. Gagging and choking Shad rolled to the floor. His legs kicked out and he died.
Emrin forced himself to his knees and tried to stand. He staggered. The Grey Man caught him. ‘Steady yourself. Take a few deep breaths. I need you to be able to ride.’
‘Yes, sir,’ mumbled Emrin.
A young man appeared at Emrin’s side. He saw that it was the Duke’s son, Niallad. ‘Let me help you,’ he said. Emrin leant in to him.
‘Go to the stable,’ said the Grey Man. ‘Saddle two mounts and the steeldust. I will see you there presently.’
Supported by the youth, Emrin moved through the doorway. The body of the guard who had left the room was lying on the rug. His throat had been cut. Supported by Niallad, Emrin made it to the main doors and out into the sunlight. The fresh air helped to revive him, and by the time they reached the stables he was walking unsupported.