Into the Maelstrom by Paul J Bennett

Author:Paul J Bennett [Bennett, Paul J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989315798

A Midwinter Murder

Part I - Arrival

Midwinter 1095 SR* (*Saints Reckoning)

Brother Cyric took another step, sinking knee-deep into the drift. When the cold snow entered the top of his boot, he prayed that his journey would soon be over. As a Temple Knight of Saint Mathew, he was used to hardship, even thrived on it, but if there was one thing he disliked, it was water in his boots. He took a deep breath, letting his frustration out slowly.

He was halfway to his destination, the manor house of Duke Emmerich of Cayfield, where a delicious dinner to celebrate the Midwinter Feast awaited him. As a member of the Church, it was one of the few days of the year that such an excellent meal would be served. Of course, Cyric really wasn't a guest of the duke so much as an accompaniment. The duke needed someone to bless the meal, and with the Midwinter Feast being so well celebrated, every member of the Church, this side of the Shimmering Sea, was engaged for the evening.

The thought of warmth and food drove him on. He could have ridden his horse, but the Holy Fathers, in their infinite wisdom, had deemed the walk to be humbling, especially since the meal was likely to be opulent. Cyric lifted his foot, taking another step and wondering how much longer the journey would be.

A distant noise broke through his thoughts, the sound of horses approaching from the city, accompanied by the distinctive rattle of a carriage or wagon. He moved off to the side of the road as it drew closer, and then four black horses pulling an ornate carriage, decorated with a foreign coat of arms came into view. Cyric watched as it slowed, drawing to a halt beside him.

The door opened to reveal a very well-dressed man.

"Father, is it?" the man asked.

"Brother, actually," he replied. "Brother Cyric, to be exact."

"May I offer you a ride?"

"That is most charitable of you," Cyric responded, "I would be most grateful."

He advanced, climbing into the carriage and took a seat opposite his benefactor, who wore a tunic of fine cloth, richly embroidered with gold and silver thread. Cyric waited as the man closed the door and then rapped on the roof to indicate to the horsemen to continue onward.

"I take it you're going to the duke's?" said Cyric.

"I am," the man replied. "How did you know?"

"There is little else down this road that might draw the attention of someone such as yourself, Lord."

The man smiled. "I see you are an observant soul," he declared. "Are you on the way there yourself?"

"Yes, I am," Cyric confirmed. "His Grace requires someone to bless the meal."

"I would have thought a Holy Father would have been more appropriate," mused the man. "Is it not the custom in these parts?"

"It is," said Cyric, "but the invitation came too late, and all of the Holy Fathers were spoken for. I trust the duke will not be too upset?"

"I suppose we'll find out," the man replied.

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