“I wish Arthur were here.”
Marcus looked at her sharply and she squeezed his hand again, leaning over in her saddle to kiss his cheek.
“Not for that reason. So that he could see the man you’ve become. So that the two of you could see that you were never really enemies. I think as men you could have learned to be brothers. Maybe friends.”
For a long moment, Marcus held her hand, looking into her shadowed face. It was a romantic notion, the brothers reconciled, but it was one he was skeptical of. Too much had happened. But then there was the question of what kind of man Arthur had become. According to his father, Arthur was the lowest of men. The kind of man who would incarcerate his own mother in a lunatic asylum. And then pay for the upkeep of said asylum? It didn’t fit. They rode on, Marcus following his dim memories toward a place that he wasn’t even sure existed outside of his dreams. A cluster of granite poking through the grass provided another landmark. Beyond that outcrop was a steepening of the slope down to dark woods below.
“This is familiar to me,” Selina said, excitement in her voice, “this way.”
She took the lead, turning left at the rocks and beginning to descend the far side of the hill. Marcus had a vague memory of clambering over the rocks, pretending it was a castle. He had been trying to storm the ramparts that Arthur held.
I never succeeded. Even our games away from father were a contest.
“We fought with sticks instead of swords for those rocks,” he said quietly, “Arthur beat me back and I kept coming. I wouldn’t give up even when he caught me crack over the head and drew blood.”
“An accident?” Selina said.
“No, desperation. I was about to reach the heights that he stood on. For the first time. It was his last roll of the dice and it worked. I fell. That is the true reason for the scar,” Marcus replied, pointing to the thin white scar on his face.
“The Arthur I knew wouldn’t have done something like that deliberately. He was a gentle boy,” Selina said sadly.
“Perhaps he became so after my exile,” Marcus replied.
There came a sound from behind. It was a scuffing sound, as though someone were climbing onto the rocks they had just left behind. Marcus turned in his saddle, whirling his mount.
“Who’s there?” he barked out.
There was no reply and no repeat of the sound. After a moment, there came the bark of a fox and the noise of paws scrabbling from rock to grass and then away. Selina brought her horse to Marcus, putting a hand to his shoulder which made him jump. He slumped in the saddle when he realized it was her.
“I am jumping at shadows. It is the talk of Arthur. I know that he is a pleasant memory for you but not for me. I would ask that we do not talk about him anymore tonight.”
“Very well,” Selina replied, stroking her hand back and forth across his shoulders.
They resumed their journey into the dark, following the slope and gradually coming within earshot of a stream. A dark mass of trees stood to their right and the stream sounded as though it wove its way through the trees. Another few minutes and a larger copse appeared in front of them and the slope petered out. They rode among the trees, moving cautiously and with heads ducked to avoid invisible branches. Overhead, unseen clouds began to part and a shaft of brilliant moonlight suddenly flowed down from the night sky. They stepped into a wide clearing, at the center of which was a still pool, reflecting the full moon perfectly. It was obsidian black with a perfect blade of white light reaching across its surface to end at the reflection.
Tall trees ringed the clearing and a wide circle of soft grass separated them from the water. Marcus stared in stunned silence, seeing a memory from his childhood brought to life. As more clouds parted, the moonlight illuminated a tall finger of stone. Its shadow reached the water’s edge, touching the bar of white light that was the smeared reflection of the moon across the water. And a dark figure stepped out from behind the stone.
CHAPTER29
“Get behind me!” Marcus said grimly as he nudged his horse forward, placing himself between the silent figure and Selina.
She saw the figure a moment later and gasped.
“Who are you? An agent of Maximilien Voss?” Marcus shouted, his voice unnaturally loud in the silence of the grove.
“Who, me? No,” Dai replied, shuffling forward, and beginning to walk towards them, circling the edge of the water.
“Dai?” Marcus asked, peering forward.
“Aye, it’s me. Sorry to startle you, Duke. Wondered what the two of yous was doing here in the middle of the night. Saw you riding across the top of Old Gop, I did.”
“This is my land. I can ride where I wish. What are you doing here?” Marcus demanded.
Selina frowned. When Dai had stood beside the stone, he had seemed different. Somehow taller. Now, his shadowed shape was slope-shouldered and shuffling, just as he had been when she had met him previously. But for a moment, it was as if he were somehow unencumbered by the weight of time.
“Out checking my traps, wasn’t I,” Dai replied.
He stopped short of the two riders, looking up at them. Selina dismounted and walked towards the old man, wanting to show Marcus that there was nothing to be wary of. She put out her hands and took Dai’s.
