Votive - By Karen Brooks Page 0,195

and scurried through the sorry excuse for gardens. He hesitated at the edge of the wall and then hurried across the open space, fumbled with the lock on the old wooden door and tumbled into the storeroom. As instructed, he left the door slightly ajar.

He counted to three slowly, drawing deep breaths, and then poked his head around the door, peering across the bailey.

From where he was, the noise of the kitchens could just be discerned. The lights of the chapel flickered through thick garden foliage. He made sure the pages lit scores of candles tonight; they would draw the eye and make it difficult to penetrate the dark; to detect movement outside. Raising his eyes towards the upper storeys of the keep, the main part of the castle, he could see the warm glow of burning hearths and candles in the windows. Above those, armed guards marched along the battlements, their pace brisk, their heads turned towards the outer walls, oblivious to his mad dash beneath them. He was safe. For now.

He withdrew back inside the doorway, relief replacing his anxiety. At least the wind couldn’t bite at him in here. He watched the little darts of snow fall to the ground, an angled rain of silver arrows against the night. They glimmered in the light of the torches illuminating the main gates at the end of the courtyard. It was eerily beautiful. Nature was playing her role tonight. Maybe the gods were on their side after all.

The weary soldiers disappeared into one of the many towers that rose above the parapets, emerging from the other side seconds later. It wouldn’t be long before they passed above him, heading to the guard house and preparing for the change of watch. If the others didn’t arrive soon, their chance to share the latest information would be lost. Damn them! Where were they? Not even his woollen robes and fur-lined gloves could keep the bitter cold from penetrating his bones, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. His thoughts wandered to the mulled wine and blazing fire he knew awaited him just a few hundred feet away in his rooms at the back of the chapel. Instead of enjoying those, here he was, playing dangerous games in the dark. But they had to know, didn’t they? Before they could go ahead with their plans, they had to be certain. Courage flickered like a candle, almost deserting him. If they should be discovered … He poked his head around the door again.

‘Morrison,’ said a voice in his ear.

Father Morrison jumped. His hand gripped his chest as if to stop his heart exploding through his rib cage, and he fell back into the room and against the interior wall.

At the same time, a large figure darted through the door, pushing it wide open. A gust of wind-driven snow followed.

‘By the gods!’ panted Father Morrison. The figure flung back his hood and brushed off the sleet that had settled on his cape. Father Morrison was relieved to see the familiar silhouette of Earl Farwarn’s features. ‘You startled me, your grace, I– I didn’t see you.’

‘That’s the idea, isn’t it?’ whispered the earl. He glanced around the storeroom, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of rats and rotting fruit. He was about to shut the door when a thought stopped him. ‘Where’s Kay?’

‘Here,’ said another voice. The two men spun at the sound.

This time, Father Morrison did cry out. The sound was whipped out the room and cut through the night, echoing across the bailey. Earl Farwarn put a finger to his lips and crossed to the door.

High above them, there was a scrape of metal as the guards leant over the parapet.

‘What was that?’ asked one, his voice carrying clearly.

Earl Farwarn froze, his hand on the latch. Father Morrison held his breath.

‘What was what?’ The second guard joined him.

‘That noise …’

‘What noise?’

All Father Morrison could hear was the sound of his breathing in his ears.

‘Nothing,’ said the first voice, finally. ‘Just thought I heard something.’

‘You’re always hearing something.’ There was the dull thud of boots. ‘Come on, let’s get ourselves before a fire. Our watch is finished and none too soon. That sleet sticks to you like a needy woman.’

‘It’s freezing tonight.’

‘Since when is that different from any other night?’

There were gruff noises of agreement, more footsteps and then the sound of a door being unlocked and opened. Distant voices protested briefly before the door closed and the world was quiet once more.

‘That was close,’

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