Darkburn Book 3: The Gates of Kelvha by Tayin Machrie - HTML preview

Chapter 31

But not for long. He was awoken, not as normal by his own internal clock, but by a hammering at his door.

“My lord! My lord Nerogun! You are needed!”

For once, in his drowsiness, he was slow to react. Pulling on his dressing gown, he noted that the first grey morning light had turned his room to seeming stone. He himself felt like a stone inhabitant within its walls, unable to either think or move swiftly. He could not imagine what the matter was and tried to stir his mind into action as he opened the door.

“What is it? I warn you, it had better be worth all the rumpus.” But even as he spoke Nerogun realised that there was another rumpus – raised voices, crying – going on somewhere further away.

“My lord, you are needed – at the bottom of the Tell Tower…”

But now he was already hastening down the stairs, gravity making up for his stiffness so effectively that he almost fell down the last few steps. Recovering, he pushed impatiently past a gaggle of servants who scattered in alarm at his approach.

The guard was running after him. “My Lord, some workmen found her, when they set out for their morning tasks… She was lying in the courtyard underneath the tower.”

“Who was? They found who?” he snapped.

“My lord, it looks – it looks like – I am told it is the Lady Janeya. It seems as if she…”

The guard did not finish. Nerogun turned and glared at him.

“Jumped? Or was thrown? Don’t be so squeamish, man.” But he did not wait for a reply before striding off again.

In the courtyard below the Tell Tower another small crowd parted mutely at his approach. He felt his fury rising for these events that were out of his control. If anyone leapt from the Tell Tower it should be at his bidding. What were these onlookers doing here, so early? Even a small crowd was too many.

“Get out of there,” he yelled in anger, before he realised that one of the women standing in the courtyard was his daughter Gaelera. A thrill of alarm went through him although there was no particular reason why this should be so; for Gaelera was not easily upset.

“Gaelera,” he said. “My lady. This is no place for you.”

She made no reply. He looked down at the thing in the servants’ midst.

On the cobbles lay an untidy heap of clothes and hair and blood. Even from here he could see that the face had been all but obliterated in the long fall past the rough stones of the Tell Tower. But he recognised the dress: last seen being ripped, as Janeya was man-handled across the pavement by a soldier. The carefully dressed hair, now bloodied and awry, yet with a jewelled hairpin still in place. And those silk shoes.

Two more soldiers appeared now, dragging a pair of maid-servants. He recognised one of them as Janeya’s maid: the girl he had spoken to about the strumpet’s assignations with that slave. He remembered that he had threatened the maid with her worthless brother. Now he walked over and slapped her in the face as he would have liked to have slapped Janeya.

“What crime is this? What have you done?”

The maid was very pale but spoke clearly and without hesitation. “I didn’t even know the lady had jumped out, sir, until the guards came bursting in just now. It took us so long to quiet her last night that once she slept we were exhausted. I thought she was asleep all night. She made no sound. She must have risen silently and opened the window...”

He slapped her again. “Or else you got annoyed with her crying and pushed her out, did you?”

“No, sir. You know I speak you true.”

“Hmph.” He reflected that indeed the girl had done his bidding in the past. And she had nothing to gain by murdering her mistress, but much to lose.

“Eral? What has happened?” That was the Lady Meya, panting as she hurried over to the awe-struck huddle of people underneath the tower. Nerogun was exasperated. Why were all these women here?

“Oh, my lady,” said the second maid, bobbing to Meya, her face pulling out of shape. “Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry. We thought the Lady Janeya had calmed down – she stopped crying and said she’d try to rest – but then – oh, ma’am – she must have gone to the window while we slept.”

“Janeya?” The Lady Meya was very pale as she walked slowly over to the corpse sprawled underneath the tower. “Let me see.”

Nerogun was suddenly suspicious. How was it she had turned up here so quickly? But just as he was about to demand an explanation, his daughter put a hand out to halt Meya in mid-step. And it occurred to him that if Meya had been there swiftly, his daughter had been even swifter. As Meya herself might well point out.

“Wait,” said Gaelera, with her usual deliberation. When she spoke, everyone was still. “Stay there, my lady. I will look.”

And with a careful rearrangement of her embroidered dress – she was fully dressed, which was a little strange, for Meya was, like himself, in a dressing gown – Gaelera stepped forward, knelt at the body’s side and with fastidious fingers removed the strands of bloodied hair from the face.

Everyone waited in silence while she examined the distorted features. The face must have hit the stonework full on, Nerogun thought.

Then after a long moment Gaelera said, “Yes, it is Janeya. A momentary madness, I expect.” She stood up, wiping her fingers carefully on a handkerchief. “I know that she had not been well. I believe that she had been distressed lately. Is it not so, my Lady Meya?”

“I believe so,” Meya answered in a murmur. Her voice shook a little: she was pale around the lips. Nerogun discounted any knowledge on her part. Even though she might have hounded the girl into this rash deed, Meya had clearly not expected it. That shocked reaction to his daughter’s words could not have been feigned.

“Such weakness of mind runs in Janeya’s family, I understand,” said Gaelera calmly. She held out her hand and dropped her bloodied handkerchief on to the corpse. “Am I not right in that, father?”

And suddenly he saw an opening. His daughter had given him a new way to discredit Janeya’s idle, useless uncle, Melegan.

“You are right,” he said. With those words, he was back in control. Throwing back his shoulders, he addressed the guards. “Have the Lady Janeya’s body removed to her own quarters. Spread no tittle-tattle. If I hear of any gossip about this, it will mean dismissal and far worse. Do you understand me?”

The guards saluted. But when Nerogun turned to admonish the two chamber-maids, Meya was already ushering them away. She had begun to scold them furiously for leaving Janeya unattended, so he let them go for now. He could deal with them later.

His mind was busy with more important things. Despite his admonition to the guards, news of this death could not be kept quiet for long; it would soon sweep through the castle, he foresaw, and cause some unavoidable scandal.

In fact, he himself would probably come under suspicion of hastening Janeya’s death by some means or other. He did not fear the tongues of foolish men, but stilling them would take time. Although he could set to work maligning Janeya’s family – especially Melegan – that could not be achieved overnight. It must be gradual. Seeds had to be sewn and doubts to grow.

A distraction was needed. Something to push Janeya out of people’s minds.

Perhaps it was time to try the experiment with the captive darkburn…

He became aware that Gaelera was watching him, expressionless. Once the soldiers had carried away Janeya’s corpse, she said,

“Did you visit Janeya in the tower last night, father?” Her tone was one of mild enquiry.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Of course I didn’t.”

“I only ask because such things have been known.”

A sudden apprehension crawled over him like a spider. He did not answer.

He would have willingly forgotten; but Gaelera would not allow him to forget.

Her behaviour was impeccable. He could find no fault with her. She had never repeated those words said seven years ago. If I am found dead, father, everyone will know exactly what you did. I have made arrangements.

He had not been able to discover what those arrangements were; and she had never spoken of them since. She had become a thing apart from him, watching from a distance.

She did not oppose him. Sometimes she was, in her strange way, helpful. A weakness of mind in Janeya’s family… yes, he could work with that.

But although he did not fear men’s tongues, yet he feared his daughter. And now, beneath Gaelera’s cold unmoving gaze, he wondered just what she was doing here at the bottom of the Tell Tower, in her heavy, stiff, embroidered dress.