Waylander was about to say something when a clatter of hooves from behind caused James to look. A company of riders was approaching at a leisurely pace up the road, a banner at the head of their column announcing the presence of the Royal Lancers.
Their leader approached, held up his hand for the halt, and said, ‘What’s this then? Clear the way, you men.’
James nodded, Waylander gave the order, and the men started pulling aside the grain sacks and crates.
James walked to stand before the officer, and after a moment, the officer said, ‘What are you looking at, man?’
James grinned. ‘Walter of Gyldenholt? So Baldwin sent you south, finally?’
The former captain from the garrison at Highcastle said, ‘Do I know you?’
James laughed. ‘We met at Highcastle. I’m James, squire of the Prince’s court.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said the old captain. ‘Now I recall you.’
James couldn’t help but grin. When he had first met the captain, he had been one of the victims of Guy du Bas-Tyra’s fall from grace, an officer in service to Guy’s most loyal ally, the result of which had been years of hard service with the border barons. Glancing at Walter’s girth, he said, ‘Peacetime’s been good, it seems.’
‘What brings you here, squire?’ asked the captain, ignoring the friendly barb.
‘The Prince has us running some errands for him. You’re the company Guy sent here to restore order?’
‘We are,’ said Walter. ‘Would have been here a few days ago, but we ran into a spot of trouble to the south. Band of lads in black objected to our coming this way. Caused us a merry chase, but we managed to kill a few before the rest got away.’
James looked at Owyn and Gorath. ‘These are things we had better not speak of in the open, captain. I have to talk to the Earl. I imagine you do as well.’
‘Indeed,’ said the captain, motioning for his men to move forward, through the barricade now open before them. ‘Ride in with us, squire. We’ll keep the ruffians off your back.’ He smiled at James.
James laughed and mounted his horse, motioning for his companions to join the end of the column. There were fifty lancers in the company, enough to prevent serious trouble, and keep both sides of the dispute from doing anything rash, or at least James hoped so.
Waylander said, ‘We were only holding this bridge until the lancers arrived, squire. Tell the Earl my men and I are heading home to Sloop.’
James acknowledged the man’s request and they rode across the bridge.
Romney was a major trading centre in the east. The city was big enough to be considered huge by western standards, but here in the eastern half of the Kingdom it was a modest sized place, about half the size of Krondor. With fifty lancers at hand, the Earl could re-form his constables and restore order as long as neither side in the dispute opted for open warfare.
The tension in the city was almost palpable. As they rode in, curious onlookers glanced out of windows or cleared the streets, letting the soldiers pass.
Gorath said, ‘There is a lot of fear in the air.’
‘People worry when riots break out,’ said James. ‘Even if you’re not taking sides, the violence can sweep you up and carry you into harm’s way. Many a man has died trying to explain he wasn’t taking sides in a guild riot.’
They rounded a corner and found themselves entering the city’s square dominated by a large fountain. James was struck by something odd. ‘There aren’t any hawkers or vendors about.’
Owyn nodded. ‘I’ve been here before, on my way up to see my uncle in Cavell Keep, and there are always merchants in the main square.’
Gorath said, ‘Perhaps they were fearful of being swept up in that violence you spoke of.’
James nodded. A large inn occupied the north side of the square, a black sheep against a green meadow painted on the sign hanging over the door. ‘We’ll headquarter here,’ announced Walter of Gyldenholt.
The lancers dismounted and whatever James might have thought of the truculent former captain from Highcastle, his squad was the model of efficiency. The captain waved over a passer-by and said, ‘Do you know where the Earl of Romney is?’
The man said, ‘He’s taken up residence in that house there, sir.’ He pointed to a house across the square.
Handing the reins of his horse to an orderly, Walter dismounted and said, ‘Squire James, let’s go call upon his lordship.’
James dismounted and said to Owyn, ‘Find us a room, but in a different inn. We’ll be able to snoop about a bit easier if we’re not keeping company with fifty Royal Lancers.’
Owyn said, ‘I know just the place. I stayed here with my father once.’ He pointed. ‘Down that street is another bridge, crossing the River Cheam, and just on the other side is an inn marked by a green-cat sign. We’ll wait for you there.’
James turned and followed Walter, who marched purposefully to the door of the house. He had barely knocked when the door opened and a servant said, ‘Enter, sirs.’
The man wore a castle tabard, with the Earl’s coat-of-arms on it, a stylized river with a fish jumping from it and over a star. The servant led them to a small parlour at the rear of the house.
Earl Richard was a youthful man, but one who looked more the part of a merchant or tradesman than a noble, despite wearing armour and a sword. James had grown up amidst nobles who were fighting men as well as rulers, and these eastern nobles who wore swords for decoration took some getting used to. The Earl’s voice was surprisingly deep and forceful. ‘Welcome, gentlemen. My Lord Bas-Tyra answered my request.’
James let Walter speak first. ‘We came straight away, sir.’
‘How many men did you bring?’
‘A full company of fifty Royal Lancers.’
The Earl appeared worried. ‘I hope that’s enough. I would really prefer to settle this dispute without resorting to force.’
Walter glanced at James and shrugged. The Earl noticed the exchange and said, ‘And you are?’
‘James, squire to Prince Arutha,’ he said, producing his travel warrants and demands for assistance. The second document seemed to produce increased distress in the Earl. ‘What sort of assistance?’
‘At this point, information, m’lord. We have heard rumours of increased activity in the area by the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, as well as the possibility of a return by the Nighthawks.’
‘Possibility?’ asked the Earl, his colour rising. ‘Doesn’t anyone read the reports I forward to the Crown? Of course there’s a possibility! They’ve killed two members of the Ironmongers’ Guild for the Riverpullers, and killed two members of the Riverpullers, as well; they’ll kill for whoever pays them. I hear Baron Cavell is hiding out in Cavell Village because they’re stalking him! He lives in a small residence with his household guards in every room.’
Something about Cavell rang familiar in James’s memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
James said, ‘Well, then, m’lord, my companions and I will be around for a few days, asking questions. We’d prefer it if no one else knew our visit was official. If anyone asks, we are here to convey the Prince’s greetings while en route to somewhere else.’ He glanced at Walter. ‘I’ll be staying over at the Green Cat Inn, to lend credence to that, captain.’
Walter of Gyldenholt shrugged as if it were of no importance to him. He said, ‘My lord, we’ll be at your disposal. I’ll need to speak with your chief constable in the morning and establish a patrol. As soon as the folks around here see a few of my lads riding around, things will calm down.’
James and the captain excused themselves from the Earl’s presence. Outside the door, Walter said, ‘Well, squire, we’ll have things in hand around here soon enough.’
Again feeling the tension in the air, James said, ‘I hope you do, captain. I most sincerely hope you do.’
They parted company and James found his horse, mounted, and rode across the city in the direction Owyn had indicated. As he rode, he studied the city.
Romney was located across all three points of an intersection of three rivers. The River Rom coursed down from the Teeth of the World, near Northwarden, the oldest of the border baronies. At Romney the River Cheam branched off to the southeast, while the Rom continued to run southwesterly, turning southeast again as it neared the coast. James paused at the bridge he faced, which arched over the River Cheam. Something was eating at him, a memory he couldn’t quite place, and he knew that it was somehow important. He waited to see if anything bubbled to the surface of his mind, then decided it would come in its own good time.
James moved across the bridge and found this side of the city even more tense than the other. Citizens moved quickly, eyes darting around as if expecting attack from any quarter, and nowhere could any of the usual street hawkers be seen.
He reached the Green Cat Inn and rode around to the back of the stabling yard, where he found Gorath and Owyn waiting for him. ‘Why aren’t you inside, eating?’ asked James as he dismounted.
