The Gorzer Squire: Book One of the Bracht Chronicles by Pavlovic George

Author:Pavlovic, George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: George Pavlovic
Published: 2023-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“Out! Out! They’re coming!”

Palman ran out of the keep and through the packed inner courtyard, elbowing his way through men and women. Those knights who were not on guard duty, or providing an escort through the town, were spilling into the area behind the castle gate, their nailed boots clattering against the paving. None wore armour, but swords hung at every waist. Above them, the castle walls were lined with guards clad in maille.

The men around him spoke in low murmurs. Jacob said something, but Palman could not make sense of it; his blood was racing too quickly. All the sounds around him had melted into one unintelligible hum. Fingers flexed around sword hilts. Manfred gingerly stretched out his injured arm. He had insisted on the cast’s removal when he had heard who was coming.

The Count’s face was stony, and his hands held his son’s shoulders in a rigid grip. Meinhard was every bit the young lord, richly dressed, shoulders back and nose high.

Somebody grabbed Palman’s arm from behind. He spun around to see Bindo forcing a smile.

“Eyes ahead, Leporino. You may have wormed your way into Manfred’s graces,” said Bindo, “the Count’s, even, but I know what you are. Don’t forget that.”

Palman’s eyes darted from left to right. Jacob was looking pointedly away. Nobody was watching.

“Bugger off, Bindo,” he said.

Bindo laughed. “Brave enough with everyone about, but sooner or later, we’ll be alone.”

Palman swallowed and tore his arm from Bindo’s grasp. “I look forward to it.”

The gates swung open with a clatter of hooves. The men tensed, squaring their shoulders. A splendidly dressed rider entered ahead of four retainers on foot. The entire crowd, as one, exhaled with disappointment. Palman thought he heard Bindo mutter a curse, but when he turned around, Bindo had gone.

“What are you doing here?” said Heinrich, thrusting Meinhard aside impatiently. The rich man dismounted.

“I have come to witness the events of the day,” he said as he approached the Count, matching him in height and stature. Such was his attire that he might easily have been mistaken for lord of the castle.

“If the Attems family meddle in my affairs,” said Heinrich warningly, “then perhaps I should show more interest in theirs.” He thrust out his jaw. “Yes, Ulrich, I know that your eldest amuses himself by abusing the townsfolk.”

“The fate of us all may be decided today, Count,” said Ulrich, joining his ring-clad fingers before him. “It is only proper that I am here.” Heinrich made an impatient sound. “Stay silent. You may witness, but that is all.”

Palman leaned towards Jacob. “Is that Pietro’s father?” he asked.

“Yes, and—”

“Clear the way,” called Gunther’s strong voice.

The Attems men joined the crowds on either side of the gate.

“Lord,” said Gunther, who had ridden through the gate at the head of half a dozen Gorzer riders, escorting the expected visitors.

Heinrich waved Ulrich aside as the escort parted to reveal a cleric accompanied by a single knight. The priest wore a white tunic under an open black overgarment.

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