something was brewing, for his spies had watched Destou and Hoyet, and had quickly identified the other brothers who were in with the potentially traitorous pair. But the brazenness of their move - breaking Bishop Braumin out of the most secure prison in the city! - surely surprised De'Unnero. He had thought that the monks had been planning their own escape from Palmaris.
De'Unnero was out of the abbey in moments, and given the movements of those watched monks over the previous days, he had a fairly good idea of where to look.
All the city was coming alive by then, with soldiers running about the streets and others riding hard to and fro, calling out.
De'Unnero ignored the clamor and moved into the shadows of an alleyway.
He felt the beast rising within him, and he did not try to fight it.
A great cat came out of that alleyway, speeding for the riverbank area where Brothers Hoyet and Destou had been spotted two nights earlier. He knew that they would try to get Braumin out of the city as quickly as possible, across the river and on his way to St.-Mere-Abelle.
Along the bank, the tiger slipped into the shadows and noted the approach of a small craft. The part of him that was still a reasoning being resisted the urge to leap out into the water and overtake the small boat, slaughtering the boatmen. His caution was rewarded a few moments later when three forms came scrambling down the bank, two pulling the third along.
They splashed into the water and toward the boat, then cried out in terror as the great cat charged toward them, leaping for the haggard form in the middle of the trio.
Without the slightest hesitation, the other two, Hoyet and Destou, shifted to intercept, pushing Bishop Braumin away. The pair of younger monks lifted weapons to defend, but the weretiger crashed in hard, sending all into the river.
"Run on!" Hoyet cried.
Bishop Braumin eyed the approaching boat, but hesitated, looking back at the pair, who were struggling wildly to keep the tiger engaged.
"Make not my death irrelevant!" Destou cried, and his last word was jumbled as the cat reared before him and swatted him across the chest with its killing claws.
Braumin cried out and staggered ahead, crashing against the boat, which started away before he had even managed to scramble aboard, one man grabbing him to hold him fast against the hull, the other working the oars furiously to get the craft out into the faster current.
Bishop Braumin looked back to see one man, Hoyet, standing before the cat, a small sword flashing before him frantically.
And then he was down, the tiger leaping atop him and bearing him beneath the dark water. All was quiet for just a moment, then there came another splash as Brother Hoyet's lifeless body bobbed up suddenly, then settled, floating on the current.
The tiger leaped forth right after, hitting the river with a rush and swimming powerfully out toward the small boat. But they were in the currents now, being swept along more quickly than the cat could hope to swim.
Braumin was free.
But he felt trapped, surely, as he looked back at the river's western bank, as he imagined the waters running red with the blood of Hoyet and Destou, and he imagined the torn bodies of the two loyal men bobbing along. He thought of Roger, too, and knew the man had not escaped.
So many had died for him this night.
A large part of Bishop Braumin wanted just to let go of the boat and slide back into the water, letting the river take him.
But another part would not let him dishonor the heroic sacrifices of the brave men who had rescued him. They had freed him because they knew that as a prisoner of King Aydrian, he was unwittingly working against the cause of justice. A captured Braumin was a mouthpiece for a usurper king.
A freed Braumin could speak against that imposter king and help rally men to the cause of Prince Midalis.
Braumin knew all of that logically, and he hoped that if faced with a similar situation, he would have found it within himself to act as bravely as Roger and Hoyet and Destou and all the others had this night.
But that didn't make their deaths hurt any less. Hanging on the side of the boat, no longer even trying to scramble in despite the numbness that was creeping into his body, the former bishop of Palmaris lowered his head and wept.
Chapter