shifted in his saddle.
'You'll see.' Conn looked over at Winterburne. 'You're quiet,' he said.
'It's my first job,' Winterburne replied, 'and I'm nervous, I suppose. I'm just eager to get started, it's been a long road.'
Conn nodded. 'Don't fret, you'll be fine, and we are all weary, my friend.' Conn looked between the faces of the two men, smiling again. 'A little longer more to wait, and then the great game starts.'
'I'm not keen to start slaying in the city, Conn.' Spen looked nervous. 'With all the troops around, it would be a suicide mission.'
'That's the beauty of his plan, boys. There's no killing. Least none intended.' Conn tightened his grip on the reins of his horse. 'Come on,' he said, 'let's spread the men around this wood, and we'll make camp. Everyone will need their sleep tonight as none of us will get much tomorrow. I can truly say, that this is the biggest plan he's ever had. Trust me for just a little while longer and you'll see.'
33
Ysabel leaned on the low rough-stone wall that surrounded the edge of the second floor patio, looking out over the city. The sun had dropped lower in the sky and the bright azure of the day was making way for the fiery oranges and deeper blue of the night. A small punt worked its way along the canal that formed the boundary of the island on which the Royal Palaces and other administrative buildings stood. She could smell jasmine on the breeze, too. It was one of her favourite smells; at her command the gardener had installed large earthenware pots onto the patio just for her to have the plant close by, and there were days that she had been grateful for the soothing it had provided her.
The sounds drifting up to her from down below seemed to have changed, too. Instead of the frantic rushing of the citizens that accompanied the daylight, so a sleepy drowsiness had crept over the streets as people wound down towards the evening. The shops and stalls of the main roads would still be selling their wares but the holders would be lighting candles soon and the character of the city would completely alter as the citizens came out on the streets to promenade and to browse with friends and family.
A serving-maid stepped through the glazed double-doors and onto the rooftop, walking across to the carved stone table that stood to Ysabel's left. The girl removed the previous night's candles from their holders and replaced them with new, lighting them before disappearing back inside. Ysabel loved to spend the early evening out here. It was a great place to remind her of what it was to be Queen, and to be able to watch the workings of much of the city brought home to her how much of a privilege it was. There was no guarantee that her reign would continue for a long time though, that was the benefit, or problem, depending on your point of view, of having an elected monarch, but right now she was on the throne and that was all that was important to her.
Without warning, Courtenay stepped out onto the patio and made his way across to join Ysabel. She had been expecting him to join her at some stage of the evening, and she glanced behind her as his footfalls came closer.
'It's a beautiful evening, My Lord,' she said, as he reached her.
'It is, Your Majesty.' Courtenay joined her at the wall and looked out over the city. 'Although, I fear that there could be a difficult time ahead for many people.'
He was right, of course, thought Ysabel. 'I wanted to speak with you about that very matter.' She turned and walked across to the granite table, inviting him to follow her. 'I still have doubts in my mind, My Lord. Doubts over whether I have done the right thing?'
'I don't understand, Your Majesty?'
'Committing the troops. Have I done the right thing sending them to the border?' Ysabel sat herself down on the ornately carved bench, the layers of her dress puffed up in her lap as she did so and she pressed them down.
'It pains me to say this, Your Majesty, but I believe so, yes.' Courtenay joined her, placing his hands on the table and locking his fingers together. 'The Commonwealth cannot afford to sit back and allow Frederick to do as he wishes.'
Ysabel looked up into Courtenay's face, and he smiled back at her with a thin almost lipless smile. 'Please explain?' she asked.
'I am no student of history, Your Majesty,' he said, 'but my understanding is that it is precisely that act which allowed the Empire to take New Brunswick away from the Commonwealth, all those years ago.'
'This is not just about New Brunswick, My Lord.'
'Of course not, Your Majesty,' Courtenay shook his head, 'but that land has always been the focus for any hostilities between our two nations. It's very location means that this is inevitable. You are aware of course that it calls itself The Shield of the Empire for that very reason?'
Ysabel nodded. 'Of course.'
She looked up at the sky and sighed, taking a deep breath. The first of the night's stars had already appeared and as she watched, another joined it as the dark crept in some more.
'Do you really believe that Frederick might invade?' she asked.
'If it is not about expanding his territories then I cannot see what else this is all for. I would urge caution, and remind Her Majesty that she should not fall for the Emperor's platitudes. He cannot be trusted.'
'Then you are sure?'
'There is no doubt in my mind.'
'I have committed almost half of my armies to the region, My Lord. I dare not send more or else the Commonwealth could be undefended on its other borders.'
Courtenay nodded slowly.
'You know the man,' Ysabel said, 'do you think that sending my troops there will stop the Emperor from attacking across the borderlands?'
Courtenay nodded. 'I suspect that it might, Your Majesty,' he said, 'for now at least.'
34
The Eleventh Day of Lo-autumn,
Imperial Year 2332
Winterburne turned in his seat as he heard the sound of galloping hooves just in time to see the remaining group of men on horseback, and not designated a task, riding off towards the forest. Spen squatted opposite him, on the other side of what would have been a burning fire-pit, if they had been allowed to light a fire. "No lights," Conn had said, so there were no lights.
An awkward silence built between the two men as they waited for Conn to return, but as Winterburne sat there he could not stand the atmosphere any more. Something had to be said.
'You don't like me, do you?' Winterburne looked across at Spen.
The man held a stick and was drawing shapes in the dirt, seemingly ignoring the comment. After a moment or two Spen looked up.
'Whether I like you or not is hardly the point,' he said. 'Conn seems to trust you, and as long as he does, what I think barely matters does it?'
'So what is it, then?' Winterburne watched the man, trying to fathom the look on his face. His eyes were cold and impassive, and there was nothing obvious that he could read in the look. 'What have you got against me?'
'I just don't trust you.'
'Why?'
'Can't rightly put my finger on it,' Spen said, 'but my gut tells me that you are a bad 'un.' He continued to drag his stick through the lines that he had drawn on the ground. 'An' I trust my gut. There's something about you that just ain't right.'
'I see.' Winterburne was secretly impressed. In fact, he was impressed by anyone that could use instinct in the way that Spen had just done to get to the truth. Even if the truth couldn't be proved, or that he wasn't quite sure what the truth was. 'Don't I get a fair chance to prove myself?'
'Look,' Spen said, 'you ain't done nothing to me, and it ain't personal, but pardon me if'n I don't turn my back on you any time soon.'
'I'm not hiding anything.'
Winterburne wondered what he had done to make Spen feel that way. The man was clearly perceptive and had picked up on something, some action or behaviour that had warned him off. He would have to be more careful, but in truth he understood that it was a trait that must have served the man well over the years.
'We'll see,' Spen said.
Just at that moment, Conn emerged from the darkness and joined them, kneeling between the
two of them. Winterburne and Spen continued to stare at each other for a moment before turning to look at the gangmaster.
'I've sent Verkade on into the city to find the safe house that the Hood told me about,' Conn said. 'He's renting it, and he reckons we should be good to use it as our base for the next part of the plan.'
Winterburne focussed his attention on Conn, trying to forget the worrying conversation that he had just had with the man's second. 'It might help if we knew what it is that we are doing.'
'Alright,' Conn smiled, 'patience. I'm getting there.' From beneath his jerkin, Conn pulled out three envelopes, handing one each to Winterburne and Spen. He kept the final one for himself. 'Three sets of instructions,' he said. 'One for each team.'
'What's this?' Spen asked, holding up his own envelope.
'A map,' Conn said. 'We're all about kidnap tonight, boys. Literally.'
'Kidnap?' Winterburne frowned.
'Of who?' Spen asked.
'The maps show the location of the targets for each of your teams. Their names are on the sheet as well.' Conn opened his own envelope. 'It's simple. You snatch your targets and then meet the rest of us back at the safe house. Quick. Quiet. Professional.'
Winterburne lifted the flap of his own envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper. The map seemed clear enough, and the three names were listed, just as Conn had said they would be. 'Who are these people?' he asked.
'I did say that it was literally kidnap,' Conn smirked.
'They're kids?' Spen asked.
Conn nodded.
'I don't know about this, Conn,' Spen shook his head. 'Ain't happy about murdering no kids.'
'Woah!' Conn said, holding his hands up. 'Hold your horses, Joachem,' he said, 'no one said anything about killin' 'em.'
Spen seemed to relax when he heard that news. 'What, then?'
Conn said, 'You just snatch them, and then bring 'em to the safe house, just like I said. No one gets hurt, 'cepting if they get in your way, then you sort it. But the Hood said no killing, other than if you have no option. You understand?'
Winterburne nodded. 'Why are we doing this?' he asked.
'It's an important part of the Hood's plan.' Conn folded his own sheet and slid it back into the envelope. 'It's what he calls his bargaining leverage.'
oOo
The streets inside White Haven's city walls were much quieter than Winterburne had expected and their journey on foot along the roads and alleyways went smoothly and largely without interruption. There were still people about, but they seemed preoccupied, talking amongst themselves, or hurrying away as they saw the group of strangers approaching. His crew were well behaved, too. Well behaved, at least, in the sense that he hadn't yet had to tell them to shut up. It was almost as if as soon as the designated work of a job had begun they had become colder, less volatile and more controlled, but then, he remembered, that these men were proven killers, so perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised.
He glanced behind him to check on the ten men that he had been allocated. They were stretched out across the street so that as a group they didn't attract too much attention. Around them, citizens carried on their evening business, but even during the time they had been moving, the number of people on the streets were becoming less. Conn had mentioned that on the sunset, and the drawing in of the evening, the market stalls of the day were moved to be laid out nearer the centre of town and so that would most likely account for the lower numbers of people here in the outskirts of the city.
The map suggested that his allocated target was situated just around the bend, and not too far away up the street. The paved road stretched away in front of him and he looked down again at the sheet of parchment for reassurance that he was in the right place. He traced his finger along the roughly drawn lines to the square that represented the villa that would be the destination for his team.
Up and down the street, the dim lights of candles burned in the windows of the houses, or cast their meagre light through chinks in the curtains and shutters. He looked up and waved Kraig across to him. The man trotted across the road.
'What is it, Smythie?' Kraig said, in not much more than a whisper.
'Get a couple of men to move on up the street and keep a look out. The same behind us. When you think it's clear we'll follow around the bend.'
Kraig nodded, and trotted back to the men, setting them about their tasks. Winterburne really hoped that he was doing the right thing by playing along with the plan but he knew that only time would tell him that. The men set off, the two given point duty disappearing around the bend, and then when they were gone he was re-joined by Kraig.
'It's quiet,' Kraig said. 'I would have thought that there would be more people about.'
Winterburne nodded in agreement. In Highport, the citizens stayed out only for as long as they dared, or for as long as their bravery lasted, the streets being known for their danger at night, but he was a long way from home and there was no telling how these people judged when to go indoors.
'All the better for us,' he said.
They waited for a moment or two and then one of the men waved them on. The moved forward around the bend where they found the high perimeter wall of the villa and they crossed the street towards the boundary, keeping to the shadows as best they could. Winterburne reached the high wall and from what he could see no one would be climbing it without help. He folded the map and stuffed it in his pocket.
'Form a stirrup,' Winterburne said, 'and I'll pull myself up to the top.'
Kraig interlocked his fingers and stooped to give Winterburne as much leverage as he could as he put his foot into the man's hand.
'After three,' Winterburne said, and Kraig nodded.
On three, Winterburne was propelled up to the top of the wall and he grabbed on tight, scrabbling up to lean over the top and to look over. On the other side lay a compound of sorts with trees and bushes standing on either side of a flagstone path that weaved its way through the garden towards an impressive two storey house that sprawled to either side of the path. Candles burned in the downstairs windows, and outside of what seemed to be the front door stood two armed man, just visible in the darkness. The bushes and trees screened the back wall a little, so if they could drop down quickly they would be able to approach almost to the door unseen and take down the men with the minimum of fuss.
Winterburne slipped back off the wall and dropped onto the street below.
'There're guards here.'
'Guards?'
'I could only see two, but there could be more inside.'
'What is this place, then?'
'I don't know and we don't have time to guess. We have a job to do, so let's get on with it.'
Winterburne waved more of the men over to him, and when they arrived, he made ready to give them his plan.
'There are two guards by the door,' he said, lowering the tone of his voice, 'put two men on each. If you slip over the walls you should have enough cover to get pretty close before they see you.' He looked at the four men that had stepped forward. 'It would make it easier for everyone if you did not kill them,' he said. 'Is that understood?'
The men nodded.
'Get on with it then,' Winterburne said.
The chosen men clambered over the top of the walls, disappearing into the darkness.
Winterburne turned to face Kraig. 'We're looking for three children,' he said. 'Take them if you find them, but cause them no harm. I imagine that they'll be in their beds, probably in rooms close by each other. I'll be right behind you.'
Kraig motioned for the remaining men to clamber over the boundary wall after their comrades. Winterburne watched them climb over the rough stone, and then he reached inside his jacket, pulling out an unopened envelope. He frowned as he read the words on the front: "To: Duchess Kaitlynn Rennick".
This feels bad, he thought.
By the time Winterburne had reached the wall he had stuffed the envelope back into his jacket. The last man reached down an
d offered him his hand. He grasped it tightly and a second later he was pulled to the top.
35
The Twelfth Day of Lo-autumn,
Imperial Year 2332
Conn led the way down the darkened main corridor of the rented villa with his hands clasped behind his back.
'And you left the letter for the Duchess as we discussed?' he said.
'I did.'
Winterburne could still recall the image of the writing on the front of the envelope and he wondered who the Duchess actually was and what she had done that meant her children were a target for Courtenay's plans.
'But,' he added, 'I have to confess in having a deep discomfort with what we did last night.'
'Stop fretting,' Conn smiled and clapped Winterburne on the back. 'I heard The Hood's words with my own ears. He told me that they are in no real danger. It's just a tactic to allow him to get what he wants.'
'Which is what?'
'You'll see soon enough,' Conn said.
'You know, then?'
Conn nodded.
'So is it ransom money we're after?' Winterburne asked.
'It's a ransom, alright.' Conn replied, as they reached a heavy door at the end of the hallway, 'but it ain't money that's the object.'
Winterburne frowned. He was no nearer knowing the point of the whole exercise than before he had hit the streets with his team of men.
'What then?'
'All will become clear, Smythie, in due course. Have a little patience.'
Conn slipped the bolts on the door and threw it open. Inside, it was dark and gloomy but shapes in the darkness huddled in the corner.
'Talking of making things clear,' he said, 'let's get some light on the proceedings.'
Conn walked across to the table and removed a box of matches from his pocket, pulling out a stick and striking it on its box. The flame flared bright, and he held it against the wick of a candle until it burned. He shook the match until its own fire extinguished. Conn held out the candlestick for Winterburne to take.
Winterburne held up the flame; seven wide-eyed, frightened faces looked back at him. Two of the older children hugged what must have been their younger siblings, shielding their eyes from either the intrusive brightness, or possibly from what might have been an unknown fate, he couldn't tell which.
'They're yours, now,' Conn said.
'You what?'
'You've been designated the gaoler, so they're your responsibility.'
'But I don't know anything about children.'
'And you think I do?' Conn laughed. 'The only thing I know how to do is to offer a quick clip around the ear. I ain't no nurse-maid, Smythie.'
Winterburne stared across at his newly adopted charges. 'What am I to do with them?'
'I don't know,' Conn replied, 'feed 'em, change their nappies, wipe their noses?' He waved his hand towards the children. 'Whatever fathers do, I don't know, I never had one.'
Then a thought entered Winterburne's head. 'Conn,' he said, 'can I have a word outside?' He waited for the boss to leave the room and then pulled the door closed on the darkness behind him.
'What is it?' Conn asked.
Winterburne was now concerned. 'Be