Alex’s guards walk along with him, clearly indicating to the people in the streets that he isn’t being detained, but close enough to protect him if needed and leaving the reason for their escort ambiguous. This wasn’t the entire truth, but for now Alex was confident of who was actually in charge and was pretty sure that they would obey him without question. A young groom trails along behind them with an overwhelming air of boredom.

“The stable-boy will get my horse out for you,” Alex tells the young groom as they arrive at the inn. “Lead him back to the castle stable. He won’t let anyone but me ride him.”

“Yes, sir,” the groom manages as he saunters off through the arched gateway that leads to the stables at the side of the inn.

“We will wait outside, Alex,” Brion tells him as they move to the door.

“I may be a little while. Why don’t you both sit and I’ll get you an ale?”

“Well, we shouldn’t when we are on duty,” Garvan suggests, “but it is a warm day.”

Alex steps inside to find a common room that is busy but not crowded. Most of the customers are merchants and traders, here to enjoy a good lunch prepared by Sidra and her staff. He pauses long enough to tell one of the serving girls to take a couple of mugs of ale outside and proceeds towards the back of the inn and the stairs that will take him up to his room.

Bertran notices his arrival and blocks his path, his face a mask of concern. “Sidra said that guards came for you. Where the hell have you been?”

“And a good day to you too, Bertran,” Alex responds with a smile. He allows himself to be pushed towards a corner table by the big innkeeper, where they both take a seat. “Relax, I’m not in any trouble – well, not yet, anyway.”

“What did the guards want then? Was it to do with the trouble yesterday night?”

Alex looks around the room carefully, checking that their conversation isn’t being listened to. He continues in a much lower voice, moving close to his friend so they can hear one-another. “The King wished to speak with me. He had a job offer to make.”

“What?” Bertran manages to keep his voice at a similarly low level. “What sort of job might the King have for you? He has plenty of guards of his own.”

“Just the usual sort of work. I’m to lead a small group of men to the west on a mission for the crown.”

“For the King?”

“Yes, for the King.” Alex remains quiet for a few moments before continuing. “I’m sorry my friend. I took an oath to the King to not speak of the details. All I can tell you in good conscience is that it is a long journey and may be dangerous. Even saying that we are going west might be telling too much.”

“I understand my friend. When do you leave?”

“I’m not sure. A couple of days perhaps. I’ve returned to gather my things, however. I am to spend the remaining time before our departure in the castle. I’ve a groom round in the stables, getting my horse as we speak.”

“Just the gelding?”

“Yes. That brings me to the rest. I need you to do a few things for me while I am away.”

“You want me to look after the pack-horse?”

“Yes, if you will. There is more.” Alex takes the heavy purses from his belt and places it on the table between them – softly so it doesn’t clink. “There’s a thousand in gold here, my retainer from the King. Keep it safe for me and take what you need for the upkeep of the horse.”

“I don’t want that kind of money in the inn. How can I possibly keep it safe. I don’t even know how you can walk through the streets with it at your belt.”

“Well, do as you wish. Perhaps it is best kept safe by placing it with a merchant?”

“You will not need it when you return?”

“No, a longer-term investment will not be an issue – if I return.”

“Alex, I don’t like that sort of fatalism, as you well know. You will return; I am sure of it.”

“Well, I wish I shared your confidence. I can only say that it might be a long trip and there are many dangers on any such journey. I do indeed hope to return safe and the rest of my fee will make me modestly rich, but I must be prepared for any possibility.”

“I suppose so. Still I do not like to talk about such things.”

“I know, my friend. I will keep my instructions simple, then. Look after the horse and place the gold where you think it will do best. If – and I say it because I must – if I do not return in a year, the gold and the horse are yours. I have no family except for you and Sidra. Bemis wants for nothing in Sulis.”

Bertran sits in silence, save only for a gentle nod of agreement. It takes several minutes of silence before he can speak again. “Have you eaten? It is past lunch time.”

“No, but I must return to the castle. There are guards waiting outside to walk back with me.”

“Well, go and gather your things. I’ll tell Sidra that you’re leaving.”

“No, Bertran, please. Tell her once I have left. You know how she will be if we tell her before I am away. I’ll never get back to the castle before darkness.”

“You put me in a difficult position, but I understand. Sidra will make my life hell for a time because of this.”

Finally, the two men rise and clasp hands firmly.

“Be safe, Alex,” Bertran tells him with a sigh. 

Alex has grown used to travelling light. Sure, he has the pack-horse for convenience, but he can manage with the contents of one large back-pack and a pair of saddle-bags. It takes him only a few minutes to gather his belongings and, after another quick farewell to Bertran, rejoin the guards outside the inn.

The walk back to the castle gate is conducted in silence, Alex deep in thought about his decisions. Somewhere deep inside, he knows instinctively that he has made the right choice in accepting this job, but the doubts are still there.

Returning from the West, more than a year since, had been a trial. Alex had been in charge of a wagon-train for a Tanerian merchant. Eight wagons loaded with the finest steel from the forges in Eboria. It was a heavy and valuable load, and the going had been slow and sometimes dangerous.

It hadn’t exactly been a disaster, but there had been a total of three serious attempts by bandits to steal the cargo. Fine steel was much in demand and, no doubt, the bandits thought they could turn it into swords and other weapons for their own use. Alex had lost five guards out of twenty and one of the wagon-drivers had also been murdered. Alex himself even ended up with a nasty gash along his left forearm, requiring twenty hasty stitches to knit together.

The mere thought of travelling those roads once more was enough to make Alex shudder. A journey that would take their small group at least a month and more likely six weeks would test them all. While they would clearly make every effort to avoid being a prime target for bandits, they would be seen as easy pickings for more casual robbery or kidnap.

Perhaps, between himself, Peta and the King, they could come up with a disguise or tale to lessen the chance of them being accosted. Having no idea when exactly the King wanted them to leave makes it difficult for Alex to have a known amount of time in which to get to properly assess the skills and temperaments of his companions.

From just a couple of short walks through the town together, Alex could at least see that both Brion and Garvan, however different in outlook were, at the very least, better than good. Their concentration seemed excellent and their recognition of the changing situations as they walked seemed to at least be competent. It’s important, even when in what should be a safe place, to expect the unexpected and both of them seemed to be alert and proactive.

Peta was waiting for their return in the guardroom off the main gate tower, stepping out to join Alex as they crossed the courtyard.

“You travel light, Alex,” he suggests as they mount the main steps. 

“Yes, usually. I’m assuming that any other equipment that we might need will be provided?”

“Indeed it will. We can discuss it tomorrow. You will need to be a part of that planning. It’d be nice to have a route that allows us to stay at inns as much as possible. I don’t think our charges will be ready for camping right away.”

“Well, we can’t baby them for the whole journey. They’ll just have to get on with it.”

“Aye. You can tell that to the prince at dinner. In the meantime, Persis here will show you to your quarters. I’ve been asked to dine with the family and yourself tonight. Should I collect you at sunset?”

A tall, slim lady, well dressed and standing formally straight, long brown hair tied back and streaked with grey formally bows to Alex as the two men approach the foot of the great staircase.

“Yes, thank you, Peta,” Alex tells his companion who then nods and turns away, leaving him alone with the servant. “Persis, is it?”

“Yes, Master Varga. I am the castle’s housekeeper. If you would follow me, please.” Persis leads Alex up the staircase and off into the western wing of the castle. The walk is a long one, much longer than expected, with a couple of twists and turns that would baffle any casual visitor. Finally, the housekeeper stops before a nondescript door, one of several along this section of corridor on both sides. She turns the ornate iron latch-handle and motions for Alex to step through before she follows.

At first glance, and certainly when compared to any inn, the room is enormous and the huge bed in the centre of one wall is equally impressive, four-posted with a bright blue silken canopy and matching counterpane. The room is at least four times the size of Alex’s room at the inn which he had already considered comfortable.

“I trust this will suffice, sir,” Persis asks with a smile.

“I’m sure that I can manage for a few days,” Alex tells her with a grin. “Thank you.”

“The door to the right leads to storage space, and the door to the left is the bathroom. I understand that the room is assigned to you until you return. Do you wish me to have hot water brought up before dinner?”

“If it is not too much trouble. Thank you, Persis.”

The space between the two doors, opposite the bed, is filled with another ornate fireplace. It’s too warm at this time of the year to need it to be lit, but it again serves as a location for a couple of oil lamps and yet another mechanical timepiece. This one is simpler and less ornamental that the one in the King’s study, but Alex can’t help but be impressed by this incredible exhibition of wealth and, frankly, good taste. Like all the furniture and furnishings, the quality is the very best.

Once the housekeeper has left Alex alone, he drops his bags in the closet – large enough to walk into with space to hang clothes, several shelves and drawers for small garments and an elaborate rack for boots and shoes. It’s all a bit much, but nothing compared to the bathroom.

For most people, even travellers at the finest inns, a bath is a modest affair, usually of tin or iron, but occasionally glazed ceramic, placed in front of a fire to aid comfort. This is not a room suited to a mere castle. This is palatial.

The bathtub is more than large enough for Alex to lie back and relax, deep and smooth. It is made of the finest pottery and glazed with a blue and white pattern of exquisite detail. Above it, on the wall is what appears to be some sort of valve, rather like a pump outlet, but without the pumping handle.

There’s a separate wash-stand which also has a pump-like outlet and an excellent large mirror that’s possibly better than any Alex has seen before. Alex tentatively manipulates the outlet, finding that the top part turns when twisted. Clear, cold water begins to flow out of the outlet and splash into the bowl below which Alex now notices is cleverly provided with some sort of drainage hole in the bottom.

Then, there is the latrine – well, that’s what Alex assumes it to be. Being used to managing with a smooth wooden plank with a hole over a long drop, in a room shared by an entire household or all the guests at an inn, this is not something that he has ever encountered before. There’s an abundant supply of soft paper, much softer than any he would normally find in an inn.

Again made of pottery of the finest quality and coloured to match the other fittings, this has a comfortable wooden seat and what appears to be another pump handle off to one side. Alex can’t resist pushing on the handle, being greeted with the sound of rushing water, somehow filling the object as if by magic and then flowing away.

“Well,” he mutters to himself as he walks back into the main room, “I’d better not get used to this sort of thing. Now I know why Garvan was concerned for his prince.”