CHAPTER 55
Cloaks To Don
Lucan breathed in the chilly air with an elated spirit. Today was a joyous day. Lilian’s hand rested on his own as he led her down the walkway from the keep. A procession was waiting for them below. Celebrations were due after all.
Sawyer had kept his promise; even as a freshly wed man, he’d seen to his duties, and the canal had been cleared a fortnight ago. The waterway was ready for trade to flow, particularly with winter already encroaching. Grain harvest wasn’t far off, and merchants were often astir even before the first stalk was reaped.
Lucan led his wife down into the inner bailey, where all his aides, including Sawyer, were present. He led them out of the city and towards the canal’s banks. This celebration promised to be a grand one, even overshadowing Sawyer’s wedding, which had drawn visitors from every corner of the estate. Even Lord Ravencroft had come to curry favor with the engineer.
Out on the banks of the canal, a crowd had gathered. Aside from the townsfolk and farmhands, many more prominent personages took the fore. Lord Ravencroft, The Golden Wheel’s envoy; The Aegis of Patia’s envoy; Sir Wolfe; Sir Upton; and even Sir Ryder, who hadn’t joined The Grey Alliance, were all in attendance. The Ardens were absent, for reasons only a few were privy to, of course. Otherwise, members of the Merchant House, including Lucan’s friend, Ainsley Rooklet, and Lilian’s father, who’d returned for the occasion, were in attendance as well. Sawyer had asked Lucan to honor the laborers who had cleared the canal by toiling day and night, and he’d granted his wish. They, too, were brought to the fore, hundreds of them lining the other side of the canal in their ragged working tunics.
Lord Ravencroft and his wife stepped forward to join Lucan and Lilian. Curtsies and courtesies were exchanged, and then they stepped off the new dock by Silvergate and onto a boat adorned with golden lanterns.
Sawyer joined them briefly, leaving after they gave him their compliments, but otherwise, no one but the oarsmen crowded the boat.
The boat soon pushed off the dock and began its journey down the canal. At first, Lucan and his peer stood with their wives on the bow, but once they left Silvergate behind and the crowd around the canal thinned, the four of them stepped down and rested on carved wooden seats that had been prepared for them.
Lucan and Lord Ravencroft took the two middle seats, each flanked by his wife. Lord Ravencroft leaned over first. “What’s the word from our friends in the Union?”
Lucan smiled at the older man. “As expected of the guilds, their half of the canal has been cleared. Trade should begin flowing within a fortnight.”
“Magnificent.” Lord Ravencroft bobbed his head with a wide smile. A servant came forward to fill a goblet for him. With the matters as of late, Lucan had met the man many a time, and he hadn’t missed that the lord’s goblet never seemed to lack for wine. It seemed to make him a more amenable man, Lucan had to admit.
The boat took them from Silvergate all the way to Lord Ravencroft’s castle, where a dock had also been erected. By the time they’d docked there, the sun had already set, and the yellow lanterns on the boat had been lit, giving it an enchanted air.
A press of folk also received the boat at Lord Ravencroft’s estate. Envoys, men-at-arms, and even the common folk crowded each other to watch the spectacle. Lord Ravencroft waved and gave a moment to some of the more important personages, and then led them into his castle.
Lucan and Lilian rested the night in the lord’s castle and, at first light, boarded the boat once more, taking it back to Silvergate. It had been going with the current yesterday, but on the way back, Lucan got to see the oarsmen truly breaking their backs on the canal. In the end, their work made their journey back just as swift.
Upon their return to Silvergate, however, Thomas urged Lucan to join him in the study.
Lucan gave proper greetings to all those who received him at the docks, The Golden Wheel’s envoy, Master Saltner, and Merchant House councilmen. Then he bade Lilian rest for the evening before hastening to the study.
There, he found Cordell and Thomas waiting for him with grim faces. Lucan circled the table, resting in his chair and eying the two men with some foreboding.
Thomas took a breath and, perhaps seeing the dark look on Lucan’s face, said, “It is not so dire, Lucan, thankfully.” He raised a letter with its seal broken–the Arden seal–and laid it on the table. Lucan had allowed him and Cordell to break any Arden seals as a matter of necessity. “Sir Sarin has sent word. The duke and his pretender are prepared. They have the men, and they have the peace. It is too late for them to march over the hills into the Arden estate now, however. Winter has already crossed the threshold, and they will have to wait for the thaws.”
Lucan took the letter, panning his eyes over the words and nodding. “I suppose we ought to be prepared too then. For spring.” He eyed Cordell.
The sergeant-at-arms nodded reassuringly. “The men-at-arms are prepared, my lord, and so is The Silver Company.”
“Good.”
The cold wind bit at Lucan’s cheek, and he blew into cupped gloves, the warmth he earned himself melting away with the first passing breeze. He stood on the timber walls of Silvergate, watching the boats docking nearby with a smile.
Thomas was standing by his side, apprising him of the latest matters.
“Harvest is beginning soon, and we have a considerable host of merchants here as is,” the old steward said. “Master Saltner has sent word that more and more merchants are asking for the Merchant House’s shelter.”
Lucan nodded. Being part of the Merchant House offered gains and protections that a traveling merchant rarely found in noble estates. One could never know which lord would be hostile and greedy and which would be just and welcoming. Ainsley Rooklet had even told him once that one of the things that made a merchant truly seasoned and a master of their craft was knowing which nobles were lenient and which were dangerous. Even knowing the temperaments of their heirs was of paramount importance.
Lucan smiled. “Keep an eye on the harvest. This winter seems hungry.”
Thomas nodded. “There is some concern among the farmers, but I believe it is too late for the crops to go foul. If it all comes to a head, then harvesting a bit early would not be difficult.”
“Very well.”
“Ah,” Thomas raised a forefinger. “I nearly forgot. Lord Cassius sent a hundred gold.”
Lucan gave him a perplexed frown.
“The loan.”
“Huh.” Lucan chuckled. “I never believed his promise of repaying it over three years. I’d thought three hundred gold was the cost of drawing a lord into the alliance.”
“You were mistaken, it seems.”
Lucan huffed. “I suppose one must learn something for every year that piles atop its predecessors.”
“Ah, yes.” Thomas smiled. “One and twenty winters you’ve seen now.”
“Yes. I am older.” Lucan chuckled again. “And hopefully wiser.”
Thomas grunted.
They heard the calls before they saw the bird. The pigeon banked against the scarce sunlight, riding the winds for a moment, then landing on one of the keep’s windows, a small letter tied to its foot. As agreed, the lords of The Grey Alliance had reared messenger birds. Foremost among them were the Ardens, who would need the timely aid of their allies to face the pretender.
And that bird had come from the south.
Lucan and Thomas shared a look then took the stairs down the wall and marched up to the bailey.
By chance, Cordell had been in the keep, and Lucan saw him running down the walkway towards them.
Running is never good, Lucan thought. And in this weather, it can only be worse than dire.
Cordell loped the distance between them, shrinking it in a blink. “Word from The Needles.” The sergeant-at-arms panted. “The pretender is on the march…heading west towards Arden lands.”
“That cannot be,” Thomas said with such conviction that one might have believed it a certainty.
“In winter, that can only be madness,” Lucan said softly.
“This letter ascertains it, my lord,” Cordell said with a grave countenance. “Duke Rutto and the pretender have marshaled their forces regardless of frosts or winter. And this hand,” he brandished the letter, “I know it, and you know it too, my lord.”
Lucan took the letter and glanced at the words within. “Sir Sarin’s hand.”
Cordell nodded.
For a moment, Lucan had to fight himself to abandon the thought that this was a mistake, that Sir Sarin’s scouts must have erred, but eventually he relented. “Send birds to all the lords in case Sir Sarin’s don’t reach them, and send riders to Sir Wolfe, Sir Upton, and even Sir Ryder.”
Thomas was the one to nod at that, even though Lucan had been looking at his sergeant-at-arms as he spoke. The latter would have other matters to attend to soon, after all.
“And The Silver Company, my lord, shall I raise it?” Cordell asked.
Lucan nodded gravely. The men had been released from their service with the approach of harvest, but now they had to show him if his coin and their training would be of use on the battlefield. “We march without delay.”
“Aye, my lord.”