Page 85 of Warrior Queen
“No,” I whispered back. “Not quite all of them.”
“Assassins,” Merlin said, kicking the body in whose blood I’d rolled. The metallic smell came creeping up my nostrils. I bit my lip, suddenly acutely aware of the sticky wetness on my undershirt and braccae, but determined not to puke. The inclination was there, though, making my stomach do unhappy somersaults. I needed to get out of these clothes. Fast.
Arthur nodded. “You’re right. But whose assassins? That’s the question.”
Cei sat down heavily on the stone bench outside our room, face drained of color, his hand still clutched to his upper arm, and Bedwyr helped him out of his blood-stained undershirt. Fresh blood ran down his arm from a deep sword-cut between elbow and shoulder. Bedwyr balled the discarded shirt and pressed it to the wound, looking up at me. “Can you hold this?”
I nodded and sat down beside Cei. He gave me a pasty-faced grin. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like blood.” He looked dangerously near fainting. Well, he could join the club, because I was pretty near that myself having to hold this blood-soaked shirt to his wound.
I shook my head and lied. “I’m getting better.” I managed a small smile. “It doesn’t always make me retch.” I pressed the shirt against the wound, putting as much pressure on as I could, hoping I was right about not retching. Cei might not be impressed if I threw up over him.
Cei leaned his head back against the wall. “Big bugger got me with his dagger. Didn’t see he had one– thought he only had a sword.” He grinned again, paler still, but that might have been the poor light. “I got him, though.” He chuckled. “He won’t be sneaking around trying to kill people in the middle of the night again.”
“Just be quiet,” I said as gently as I could. “The bleeding’s stopping a bit, but you’ve lost enough to make you light-headed. Breathe steadily. Stop panting or you’ll hyperventilate.”
Cei raised his ginger eyebrows, probably wondering what hyperventilating was, and gave me a half-hearted smile. “Yes, Mother.”
My gaze slid back to Arthur, the lamplight shimmering over his naked chest, where he stood over the dead man. For once he was right and his cut was just a scratch, maybe from the tip of a sword or dagger. The blood was already drying on the wound.
He stared at Merlin. “They meant to kill us all, whoever they were.”
“Could’ve been sent by anyone,” Merlin said with a shake of his head, as he held the lamp over the body and peered more closely at the dead man. “Difficult to say from what he’s wearing. But as those are plaid braccae he has on, I’d say he’s from the north. They’re fond of plaid up there.”
I couldn’t help my gasp of horror. “You mean they areactualassassins?” I glanced between the stony faces of my menfolk. “Not burglars?” For some ridiculous reason I’d been thinking they were thieves. Clearly, I lacked common sense when disturbed in the middle of the night. “Someone sent assassins here– to kill us?”
Was it so difficult to believe? With all the kings at each other’s throats so short a time ago, and not many of them liking being ruled by so young a man as Arthur, was it any wonder one of them, or maybe more, had decided to open up a vacancy on the High King’s throne?
“I’ll fetch the one I killed in our chamber,” Arthur said. He vanished inside the dark room and a moment later emerged, dragging the man who’d attacked me by his feet. Sure enough, my dagger sat firmly wedged between the bones of his wrist, like a crucifixion nail. That must have hurt like hell. Good. Only he wasn’t feeling it now. His wide-open eyes stared sightlessly up at the starry sky, and his shirt was black with his own blood. His body left a wide, bloody smear across the tiles in our room out onto the flagstones in the walkway.
Arthur dumped the man’s legs. “Plaid braccae as well.”
Cei opened his eyes for a moment. “I’d say theylooklike Caw’s men.” He shut them again, probably feeling dizzy. I felt dizzy with shock myself.
Bedwyr, whom I hadn’t notice leave, returned with bandages and took over from me. He’d brought a flask of spirits, with which he liberally dosed Cei’s wound, then offered it to Cei to drink. Cei took the bottle like a man dying of thirst and downed several huge gulps.
Not sure what to do with the blood-soaked undershirt, I dropped it to the floor, my fingers sticky with drying blood and smelling strongly metallic. I sat on them so I wouldn’t have to look at them. I’d just made up my mind to say alcohol wasn’t the right thing for shock, when Merlin spoke. “How do we know the plaid isn’t a disguise?”
The sounds of something heavy being dragged came from the darkness in the courtyard, and Morfran arrived, dragging a third body by one leg. Also in plaid braccae. The one who’d wounded Cei, presumably.
Arthur nodded. “You could be right. If you were going to send assassins after the High King, or any king for that matter, then you’d not want any sign of your men’s origins on them, in case the worst happened, and they were caught. You’d be a fool to mark them as your own.”
Cei opened his eyes again, a little color back in his cheeks now Bedwyr had the bandage round his arm. “And how did they know which courtyard to come to, or even which house? Caw’s men are all camped outside the walls. If they were his, they’d have had to get inside the city’s closed gates after nightfall– impossible– and then inside our walls. Ask yourself. Whose servants are working in this house?” He grunted and closed his eyes, lips compressed.
Merlin nodded, his eyes glowing almost golden in the lamplight. “And we’re well guarded at every entrance. They knew to come in across the rooftops. Knew which courtyard to come to.”
Arthur chuckled. All right for him, he hadn’t been as terrified by this as I had. I clenched my fists to still the shaking that had come back with a vengeance. Never mind Cei suffering from shock, I probably was myself. And cold. November was not the time for sitting outside and discussing assassination attempts.
“They could have come inside the city during the day and stayed,” Bedwyr said, tying off the bandage on Cei’s arm.
“True,” Merlin said. “But I think we’re being deliberately misled. These men aren’t Caw’s. He’s not that stupid. But maybe whoever sent them wants us to think it was Caw– it might suit his purpose.”
“Well, who doyouthink sent them?” I asked.
Silence.
Without opening his eyes, Cei spoke. “I think we all know who.”
Footsteps sounded on the roof, all our heads swung around, and Anwyll dropped down into the courtyard. “I’m sorry. I lost him on the rooftops. Too dark to see where he went. But I did spot low points on this house where the walls are easily climbable from outside.”
