Conn could not see the Hood's face, he knew that the man would be smiling.
'Look at it as a form of life insurance,' The Hood said, placing his hand on his chest. 'For me, of course.'
'What are you talking about?' Duchess Rennick asked.
The Hood held up his hand and shook his head, although the gesture was barely noticeable through his thick apparel.
'Not yet,' he said, 'there'll be plenty of time to discuss their role in all of this, and yours for that matter, but first, some introductions would be in order, I think.' He walked into the centre of the amphitheatre and bowed with a flourish. 'You can call me,' he paused, 'anything you like, to be honest, I do not care. The men though, well they call me...' he turned towards Conn. 'What is it that they call me?'
'The Hood,' Conn said.
'The Hood.' The Hood nodded. 'I always liked that. It is plain, descriptive, and yet somehow respectful all at the same time. You will find that I am big on the respect issue. That's a good tip for anyone who wants to stay on my good side to remember. Isn't that right?' he said, directing the question towards Conn.
'Most definitely,' Conn replied.
'Get on with it man!' Duke Bekker raised his voice, his impatience showing clearly. 'How much do you want?'
'Pardon me?' The Hood replied.
'How much money do you want?' Bekker repeated.
'Money?' The Hood replied. 'You think I want money?'
'This is a kidnapping is it not? Getting rich is usually the point of a kidnapping, or at least it is in my world.'
The Hood laughed. 'Oh, your grace. This is not about money. It has never been about money.'
'What then?' Duke Whitney asked. 'All I can think about is the faces of our children, frightened and alone, in a...well, the Lord alone knows where they are, and you say this is not about money!'
The Hood sighed. 'I know you must be concerned, that is understandable, but put that concern to one side for a moment and consider this. All three of you are people of breeding, the highest class of citizen, all known throughout the Commonwealth for your breadth of vision and knowledge.' He paced left and then right and then he paused for effect. 'I am asking you to think about the bigger picture, just for a little while. To take a chance to think about our places in the course of human history, for this is indeed a most historic moment, let us never forget that. We have a unique opportunity,' he said. 'It is a once in a lifetime chance to change the course of events across the whole of this land.'
'I have no idea what you are talking about.' Duke Whitney frowned. 'And what have our children to do with all this?'
'Not your children, your grace. You.'
The Hood raised his hand and pointed to each one of the three standing before him in turn.
'Us?' Duchess Rennick asked. 'I do not understand. What is this opportunity of which you speak?'
The Hood held up his hand. 'The Queen has lost the confidence of the people, your graces.' His voice was calm and confident. 'Her reign is over.'
'Don't be ridiculous, man,' Duke Bekker said, 'Queen Ysabel is loved by all, and she has everyone's confidence.'
'No!' The Hood answered. 'Ysabel cannot see any further than her own boudoir. Emperor Frederick is preparing for war and she can only worry about what colour her curtains should be!'
Duchess Rennick frowned. 'You are mistaken,' she said. 'That is not the Queen that I know. Ysabel is loyal, and has the greatest foresight. You seem to be painting her as some sort of wastrel.'
'She must be replaced,' the Hood replied. 'And you will be the ones to make it happen.'
'What?' Whitney stepped forward. 'Are you mad?'
The Hood rose to his full height. 'It is time that we had a new monarch. One with the vision and strength of character to shape this Commonwealth into the mighty land it deserves to be, and to put it in its rightful place on the map.'
Duke Whitney's face showed the anger that was building inside him. 'I would fight such a move, with every breath in my body.'
'A pity,' the Hood said. 'But, in truth, I had anticipated such depth of feeling, such narrow-mindedness.'
'The impeachment of a monarch requires the votes of two thirds of the council. You would never be able to influence that many Electors,' Duchess Rennick said.
'We are agreed on that point, at least,' the Hood replied, 'which is why I have enlisted your help. On my own, I would not be able to arrange the direction of that number of votes...but together, you three might.'
'Never!' Bekker said.
'Must I remind you that I have something precious to the three of you?' The Hood looked around the faces of the Electors. 'How many would need to die before you were convinced that you could muster the vote? One? Two, perhaps? Four?'
'You wouldn't dare,' the Duchess said.
'On the contrary,' the Hood replied, 'I most definitely would.'
It was Duke Whitney's turn to speak now. 'Even if we conceded that we had no alternative but to do this, there is no chance that another six members of the council would vote in favour of impeachment.'
'I do so hope for the sake of all of your children that you are wrong about that, your grace.' The Hood turned and made to leave, but then stopped. 'Or perhaps you might like me offer some proof of my sincerity. But, I must admit to being unsure as to how to choose the victim of the first offering. Spin the bottle, perhaps?' He chuckled and turned to walk away.
'Wait!' Duchess Rennick stepped nearer to the Hood. 'We cannot propose such a thing. The law does not allow for us to put forward a motion of no confidence in the Queen without proposing a replacement. There is no such fitting candidate, either within the council, or without.'
'Oh, but there is, Duchess,' the Hood said. 'He is amongst you in court as we speak.'
'There is?' the Duchess asked. 'Who is this candidate?'
'A most reliable and trustworthy replacement. Someone who has nothing but the best interest of the Commonwealth at heart.'
'And who might that be?' Bekker asked.
'Lord Robert Courtenay,' the Hood replied.
37
The Nineteenth Day of Lo-autumn,
Imperial Tear 2332
Winterburne's head was bowed as he made his way back along the main corridor of the villa to tend to the children and found Verkade waiting for him. Winterburne hadn't slept much the previous night, but he suspected that the young ones had slept even less. They had adapted well to their captivity so far, but he still had a sinking feeling in his stomach when he thought about the situation they had all found themselves in. He had come to realise over the last few days why he had gone along with this. It wasn't anything to do with catching Courtenay, as such, but in the unveiling of this whole affair fate had offered him a path to follow and he knew that if he was to find some sort of redemption with the world, whether such a thing was even required or not, then it might just as well be in the protection of the innocents.
'Where are you off, Smythie?' Verkade said. He had a smirk on his face.
'As if you don't know.'
'You're enjoying your responsibilities, aren't you. I can tell.'
Verkade still had the glint in his eye but Winterburne had become used to the man's dry sense of humour over the time he had come to know him.
'Loving every minute,' he said.
'Ain't never had 'em myself,' Verkade said, 'kids, I mean. We had pigs at home, though.'
Winterburne laughed. 'It's hardly the same thing.'
'Oh, come on, how different can it be? Get 'em up in the morning, slop 'em out, and then when they're big enough you send them out into the big wide world.'
'I don't think the slaughterhouse is quite the same as the big wide world,' Winterburne replied, although the similarity with his own particular group of little pigs wasn't lost on him.
'Not so sure about that,' Verkade said, 'especially if this war escalates into actual hostilities.' They reached the door to the captives' room and Verkade said, 'Right. I'm off to get breakfast for the rest of the tribe. Want an
y?'
'I'll be along as soon as I've finished here,' Winterburne said.
Verkade raised his hand in the air as he turned and trudged off towards the kitchens.
Winterburne turned the key and opened the door. The smell of faeces slapped him across the face. It's slop out time alright, he thought.
Natalia stood and walked over to the buckets that had been placed next to the fireplace. They had each been covered with a towel and she picked them up and then made her way over to Winterburne.
'Can Sofia come with me this morning, just to help?' she said. 'She could do with some sunlight.'
'I suppose so,' Winterburne replied, 'but I don't want any trouble, or else I'm not going to be able to protect you.'
Natalia nodded. 'We won't cause any,' she said, and nodded to the younger child. Sofia scooted across to follow her out of the room.
Winterburne waited for the pair to step through the door, and then he pulled it closed behind them, turning the key with a loud snick sound. The silent children looked up the corridor in the direction that they knew they had to move. Nonetheless, they waited for permission, as they had been told to do.
'It's alright,' he said, 'you can go on.'
As they walked, a man's deep voice, up ahead in the kitchen, began the first verse of one of the old folk tunes that Winterburne had heard the men singing as they worked. He had learned that it was an old sea shanty, but as befitting these particular men, they had changed the words, making it crude, albeit, he had to admit, somewhat humorous. Thankfully, though, the words being sung today were the originals and Winterburne felt grateful that he would not have