Free The Whispering Night by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

the north and away from Richard’s ever-present eyes. Their destination
is Bolton Castle and the prince’s supporter there.”
    Bertram knew that, but
the Irish mercenaries were not his concern. Neither were the Teutonic. His
direct concern was a mass of French mercenaries due to arrive at Great Yarmouth
sometime before the month was out.  Weather was unusually turbulent this
spring, making crossing the channel difficult. Time frames for the prince’s
paid armies had been sorely distorted by it, making future plans difficult to
calculate.
    Bertram stood up,
clasping his hands behind his back. In the shadows, Lon and Alger listened
intently; they were the only family members allowed to witness the exchange.
They had known when they saw the spy ride into the ward earlier that evening
that something was afoot.  Alberic always brought with him information, bugs,
gossip and intrigue.
    “So we wait,” Bertram
said slowly. “The Irish at Bolton, the Teutonic in Nottingham, and the French
at Framlingham. Other castles will house more mercenaries when the time comes
and when we slip the noose around England’s midsection, we will divide Richard’s
country.  If all proceeds as it should, John should have the throne by
Christmas.”
    “Nothing except
Richard’s armies,” Lon rumbled. “You speak as if his supporters sleep while we
amass. You know as well as I do that if we have spies, then so does he.”
    “I have been in the
prince’s service since the days he rebelled against his father,” Alberic
scratched his cheek where an insect bit at him. “There is an entire community
of those who secretly serve the prince and his brother. We are as shadows,
flitting between sunrise and sunset, ghosts that appear and then disappear just
as quickly. We are fleeting figments of the imaginations, as deadly as a viper
if one draws too close.  Sometimes I believe our task is more difficult than
the knights who fight with weapons and fire.”
    “I cannot disagree,”
Bertram said. He watched more bugs leap onto his floor. “If there is nothing
else, then I say you should leave. ‘Tis unwise for you to remain here for any
length of time.”
    Alberic stood up,
stiffly, feeling his age this night. It was cold outside, threatening rain, but
he dare not ask for shelter from de Rosa.  They both well understood his role,
and he was clearly not a guest. Slipping from the solar without another word,
he made his way out of the tower and into the bailey.  The gates were still
open, even in the night, and his worn mule was tethered outside the walls.  As
he hurried across the ward, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible,
something caught his attention over by the western tower.
    Alberic paused, dipping
into the shadow of the wall as he was so used to doing. Hiding was second
nature to him. He watched a large figure cross from the large western tower and
into the stable block. Puzzled, he tried to follow but stopped short of the
wooden steps into the structure.  He could not risk entering the stables and
being cornered. He stood there a moment, unsure what to do, unsure of what he
had seen. But he knew he must seek Bertram.
    Bertram and Alger were
still in the solar, deep in discussion. Lon had since vanished.  Alberic paused
at the solar door and removed the soiled cape that covered his head.
    “My lord?” he said.
    Bertram looked up from
his conversation with his brother, somewhat annoyed to see the dirty spy
standing in the doorway.
    “I told you to leave.”
    “I was, my lord,”
Alberic took a hesitant step into the room. “But… I saw something….”
    “Well, what is it, man,
and be quick about it.”
    The spy wasn’t sure
where to begin. “As I was leaving, I saw a man come from the western tower and
enter the stables.”
    “What man?”
    “He was large, quite
large. Young and strong, with light-colored hair.”
    Lon looked at his
brother. “He must mean le Mon. If he has left Derica’s side, then she must