"Before I can give you the letter, there are secrets that you need to know," Liam said after he took a deep, steadying breath. "Father, I know you dislike keeping secrets, but these are too heavy to bear casually. I need everyoneâs word that you wonât speak of what you hear or see tonight, and that youâre willing to die a horrible death to keep these secrets. If you canât do that, then you should leave now, before you hear something that you canât unhear."
"We know how to keep matters in confidence, Lord Liam," Sir Brennus promised, making a âgo-onâ motion with his hand. "You donât have to scare us."
"Respectfully, Sir Brennus," Liam said, clenching his fist in frustration. "You donât understand. Can you swear to me, right now, that you will keep this secret even after the Inquisition takes your children from you in order to force your lips open? Cadeyrn," Liam said, turning to Sir Brennusâs son before the older knight could answer. "If you had to choose between keeping this secret and watching your mother die, could you keep it?"
The color drained from the young squireâs face. His hand, which had been resting on the back of his fatherâs chair, gripped the wood so tightly that his knuckles went white. Cadeyrn opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking desperately toward his mother at the second table where she sat with his younger siblings.
"I..." he started to say, only for his voice to crack as a lump formed in his throat. By the time he was fifteen, heâd trained with sword and lance since he was old enough to sit in the saddle by himself, and the past year, heâd learned to stand watch through cold winter nights. He even helped Lord Liam during his most recent campaign, doing a squireâs duties, cleaning and polishing weapons and armor, and caring for horses while battles were fought just minutes away from camp.
But this? This, he realized, was what his father meant about the courage to face things that couldnât be defeated with a sword and shield. Lord Liam was asking him to choose between a promise to keep a secret and his motherâs life before heâd even heard what the secret was!
Sir Brennusâs hand came up to cover his sonâs, where it gripped the chair, steadying him. The older knightâs expression was calm, as if Lord Liamâs words hadnât troubled him, but there was a shadow lurking in his eyes and a faint tremble in his fingers when he took his sonâs hand that said that even he wasnât immune to worry about what they were about to hear.
"Liam," Mairwen said sternly. "The Inquisition isnât the sort of thing you should threaten someone with. You donât have to exaggerate in order to make your point..."
"Heâs not exaggerating," Ollie interrupted, unwilling to see Liamâs last attempt to shield the people in this tent being misconstrued. "Lady Ashlynnâs sister, Lady Jocelynn, was tortured by the Inquisition for days and only recently escaped," he said flatly. "Their cousin, Confessor Eleanor, died in the Inquisitionâs hands."
Beside Liam, Eira made a small, strangled sound. Her hand flew to her mouth as her eyes went wide with horror. Sheâd met Lady Jocelynn briefly at Lady Ashlynnâs wedding last spring. Theyâd spoken briefly about the latest fashions from the eastern counties, about Jocelynnâs excitement at visiting Lothian for the first time, and about how dashing Lord Owain looked in his wedding finery.
Jocelynn had been so beautiful, and she seemed so sophisticated even though she was just a year or two older than Eira herself. She was the daughter of a count and the sister-in-law of the man who would soon become the next marquis, and Eira would be lying if she said she hadnât felt both a bit humbled and a bit jealous of the young lady from Blackwell.
If someone like that could be taken by the Inquisition and tortured for days...
Eiraâs other hand found the edge of the table, gripping it for support as the tent seemed to spin slightly. Sheâd been so focused on the romance of battles and noble causes, on the way Lord Liamâs voice grew passionate when he spoke of Dame Sybyllâs quest for justice. But torture? The Churchâs own Inquisition torturing a countâs daughter?
Everything that theyâd heard from Lord Liam and Sir Ollie had already been shocking, but this... she couldnât imagine what kind of secret could be this dangerous to know. Part of her wanted to stand, to excuse herself, and to flee back to the safety of her tent, and not knowing anything so dangerous.
But if she ran now, then what right did she have to vie for Lord Liamâs affection? If she couldnât stand next to him while he bore the weight of such terrible secrets, then she would be proving herself unworthy of his affection.
"Lord Dunn, your son isnât being stubborn," Ollie insisted. "Heâs coming to you with secrets that have cost lives to keep. Sir Hugo, Sir Rain, and I sat in judgment of a traitor who wanted to sell these secrets to the Church or to Lord Owain... Lady Ashlynn personally executed him for it," he said, refusing to mince words.
"If you keep these secrets, you put your families and your people at risk," Ollie explained. "But if you part your lips carelessly, then your lives and the lives of anyone you tell are forfeit. Lady Ashlynn doesnât want to see that happen, and neither do I," he said, knowing full well that he might have to be the one to take action if anyone here looked like they were going to go running off to the Inquisition in Maeril or like they would do anything else to give Owain Lothian warning about what they heard here.
At the far end of the table, Sir Bedwyr shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his arm instinctively moving to pull his young bride closer. Lady Esme leaned into him, her freckled face troubled in the lamplight. Theyâd only just gotten married a few months ago, and they had yet to truly start a family, but from the way Sir Ollie spoke, just by listening to this news, they might never get a chance to.
"My lord," Bedwyr said quietly, his earnest face unusually grave as he addressed Baron Loghlan. "Forgive me, but... Riverstone Village is several daysâ hard ride from here, so thereâs a great deal we never hear about whatâs happening in Lothian or anywhere outside of the barony," he continued, swallowing hard, and setting his hand atop Esmeâs where she gripped his knee.
"Weâve never, that is, Esme and I, weâve never had to worry about anything other than the demons and keeping our people safe from what comes out of the wilderness," he said as he worked up his resolve to speak the words he knew were expected of him. He didnât doubt the words; he knew what was right, it was just... It was just much harder to speak them than he ever thought it would be.
"But, if Lord Liam needs to hear us speak an oath to keep this secret, then weâll swear it," he said as the look in his eyes grew firmer, gaining confidence as Esmeâs grip on his knee tightened and he saw her nodding with him in a silent promise that they would face this struggle together.
"You can count on us, my lord," Bedwyr promised. "We wonât betray you, no matter what," he promised.
"There, you see? I think you underestimate us, Sir Ollie," Baron Loghlan said, shaking his head at the young knight. "Lady Ashlynn has raised armies and conquered a barony. If sheâs writing to me, then sheâs asking me to take part in treason against my lord and the king... and the Church as well, it seems."
"If I were a man of principles, I would tell Liam to burn the letter in his hands, and Iâd throw him in a dungeon for his own safety until this all blows over," Loghlan said, giving his son a piercing look. "But I believe in Liam. Mairwen and I raised him up to have a broader vision than we do, and to do whatâs right for our people."
"If heâs come to the conclusion that treason is the right answer," Loghlan said resolutely. "Then I at least owe it to him to understand why. At the same time, if Iâm going to contemplate treason, then I owe it to my vassals to hear the same secrets that Iâll hear, so they can offer their counsel."
"Come what may, we face this together, Son," Loghlan said. "So enough with the warnings and the threats, and tell us what youâve been dancing around ever since you returned."