‘Poor comfort for the Salingers. Or the Richards.’ He let this sad truth sink in before continuing. ‘And now the stakes are even higher. It would be fair to say that all who live here know the risks. That they benefited from being a part of our coven just as much as they stood to suffer for it. Until now. Now, with the shifting so advanced, so powerful, they did not enjoy the protection they could reasonably have expected. Nor could they have known how little they would have been able to do what they were born to do themselves.’
‘But it is what they signed up for. All of us know of the dangers,’ Matthew said.
‘Did you truly have a choice? Did they? You were born here, as was I. As were the Salingers and the Richards.’
‘They could have left. They were always free to choose another path,’ said David.
‘To leave the Aurora, to abandon the coven, would be to cast oneself adrift.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘No, we were ill prepared and our enemies knew this. It is heartbreaking enough to see their evil spreading in the world as it does, but to have it breach our own defences. To have it poison our own brothers and sistersin this our very stronghold… it is pitiful and painful in equal measure. A meeting has been called. It is vital everyone, to the last child, knows how to protect themselves and each other. This new level of threat… we have seen the terrible consequences of our failings.’
‘Surely our lady is protected? Her defences are…’
‘Unassailable,’ his father finished the sentence for him. ‘Can we be certain any more? And, even if they are, as I said, there are other lives at stake.’
‘Lives that are equally important?’ Matthew asked.
Deri nodded slowly. ‘In the case of the girl, yes. Though both are vital to our cause.’
David leaned forward on his seat. ‘Isn’t it dangerous that they know nothing of the shifting? Wouldn’t it be better to tell them? To explain?’
‘That is not our decision to make,bach.’
‘But surely, Da, they would be safer if they knew.’
‘Our lady will tell them when she sees fit. Until that time we must do our utmost to protect both of them, but the girl at all costs.’ He paused and then said, ‘The last battle is near. There have been incidents before, down the centuries, of course, when our own coven members have come under attack. Many have given their lives in the name of what we do. I have to tell you those encounters were nothing,bachgen, compared to what is coming. Nothing.’ As he spoke he felt anunnatural warmth in his hands, as if the arms of the metal chair were conducting heat from somewhere. He snatched his hands away from the source, glancing about him. The sensation stopped as quickly as it had started, but it confirmed what he already knew: they were being watched, and the watchers were close enough to do them harm.
Mediterranean Sea, 1191
The storm had worsened. Not for the first time during that terrible voyage, Tudor thanked God and his luck that he had been able to travel through France with Philip’s forces. Had he begun his journey with Richard’s men, he would have had to endure weeks more of the torture of being at sea. As it was, he had been assured they would make landfall within two days. Still, such news was of little comfort when the ship was being thrown about like a dice shaker, with himself, his horse, his servant Tan, and his fellowknights the hapless dice. He was a good sailor, in as much as he did not suffer the debilitating sickness that assailed most of the passengers, but he felt no affinity for the sea. He missed the feel of the earth beneath his boots, missed galloping his horse at speed over firm ground. More than this, he feared for his horse. It was the first time his mount had been aboard a ship and the animal was clearly suffering. All the horses were corralled on deck, which at least spared them the airless heat of below. Their pens with canvas roofs offered a little shade, but scant protection against the rain and wind that now beat at the ship day and night. In addition, the violent motion of the vessel forced all the horses to constantly shift their weight so as not to fall. Hour upon hour of this unnatural exertion was exhausting. All Tudor could do was stay with his horse, speaking gently to it, reassuring it, hoping to at least lessen the terror the animal must have been feeling. He hoped, too, that the sweeter air might aid his sleep when night fell. For many nights he had been troubled by incoherent dreams. The glimpses of green wilderness and whisperings in unfamiliar voices meant nothing to him and yet seemed almost to call to him. He often awoke confused and unsure of where he was. Better to be awake and with his horse, reminded of his duty as a knight and his mission. Things he understood well.
‘Master, come away now. You must eat.’ Tan’s voice had a note of desperation in it. Tudor turned to look at the young boy who was so skinny and small he looked like the rain might wash him off deck.
‘Go back below, Tan.’ Tudor had to raise his voice over the sound of a crashing wave.
‘The food… it will spoil,’ said Tan, his eyes darting anxiously towards the hatch.
Reluctantly, Tudor went with him, trying to ignore the pitiful whinny from his horse as he went. Below decks was not a pleasant place to be. The smell of urine, vomit and sweat was overwhelming, but he let Tan lead him to the small area that they had claimed as their own. The boy was as terrified as Tudor’s horse, but at least he was able to distract himself with the business of looking after his beloved master. They sat on the sacks of corn that doubled as a bed for Tan, who had singularly failed to stay in a hammock more than a few seconds. He handed Tudor a bowl of grey meat in a grey gravy with a chunk of hard bread the size of a cabbage.
‘Not many are eating,’ Tan explained, nodding at the number of knights and their attendants who lay groaning in their hammocks or slumped over buckets. ‘There is plenty more,’
Despite his lack of interest in the grim food, Tudor forced himself to eat. Now was not the time to be losing strength.
To his left, two knights sat watching. From their mode of dress and way of speaking it was evident they were part of the French forces. One was huge with a shock of blonde hair and pale blue eyes. The other was more typically gallic, with dark colouring and aristocratic features. The blonde one smiled but his level gaze remained upon Tudor as he addressed his friend.
‘See, he has at last come away from his precious horse.’
The darker man shrugged, ‘He probably thinks the animal is better company than most he will find down here.’
‘Is that it, my English friend? Do you prefer the company of beasts to men?’
Tudor knew when he was being ribbed and knew better than to take offence. He ignored the slur about his heritage, knowing what the French generally thought of those who had been until recently their enemies. He chose not to put them right on the matter of his birth, his ancestors all in fact beingCymraeg. He continued eating, dipping the bread in the gravy in an attempt to render it edible. Without looking up he said, ‘I prefer the company of those not covered in puke and piss.’
At this the blonde man laughed so loudly he caused Tan to flinch. ‘That seems good sense, indeed! It may be we would all fare better above decks than in this miserable pit.’
At that moment the ship rolled again as a particularly heavy wave struck it. All in the hold were forced to cling to hammocks, ropes, each other, anything to stop themselves sliding across the floor and piling into a filthy heap. When the boat righted itself the floor was awash with the contents of spilled buckets.
The dark Frenchman got to his feet, cursing elaborately in French. The blonde man continued to sit, resigned to the chaos. ‘Save your strength, Albert. Sit.’
‘In that?’
