Chapter 24
“Your ‘lost lamb’,” Cunnel continued at Michael, “is the leverage that will secure his brother’s victory. It will end this war and King Philip’s rule.”
A heavy silence came upon the room. Only the storm’s incessant thunder filled their ears, as the two captives remained quiet with their own thoughts. Michael’s eye met those of the foreigner, which shone with a sinister pride. But this triumphal air was short-lived as the dark man turned an angry face at the fisherman.
“You have no guard over your tongue whatsoever!” he snapped. “Do you think we can let this hunter live with that knowledge?”
“Oh,” Cunnel laughed softly, “I had no intention of him living.”
The dark man sighed impatiently. “Well, I’m not going to deal with him now.”
The fisherman held his dagger before Michael’s throat.
“No. This one is mine.” He replied.
“Not HERE!” Valdigard insisted angrily. “I’m not going to leave a trail of dead corpses for them to follow! I don’t want anyone to know what’s happened, before the king finds out from us. Until he discovers why his son is missing.” He turned a piercing eye at the young captive, tightly bound before the dark man's feet.
“Are you frightened?” he asked Philip. Although the gag prevented a response, the prince’s face answered Valdigard’s question. The man stooped over and grabbed the boy’s collar. With a sudden jerk, the twelve year old was roughly lifted up. With his bound feet barely touching the ground, the young prince was brought face to face with the Exthereon.
“You think you are afraid,” the man said after a moment's pause. Despite himself, the prince found his eyes were locked on his. Valdigard brought his face even nearer. “You do not yet know fear.” Philip tried to repel his look, but in vain. Sensing his complete control over the young prince, Valdigard began to laugh viciously.
“So you are the son of that insolent king? He thinks he is so powerful. None have dared defy my brother and lived. He will see. He will learn to comply with Lord Missetheon’s wishes. One way or another.” The foreigner’s white teeth peered out from behind a small smile. Philip cringed. His mind raced to his father and the decision he would soon face. An inaudible groan escaped him.
“What have I done?” the boy thought.
Valdigard snapped back to his former masterful composure.
“Harkeyl” he barked. The man by Michael stepped forward. Cunnel’s dagger drew even nearer the huntsman’s neck. Valdigard pointed a brusque finger at the prince.
“Where’s the sack?”
Immediately, Harkeyl produced a black bag made of a leathery material. It was large, with a long and sturdy string around the end. Philip’s heart raced feverishly. He instinctively turned to the huntsman, who was watching Valdigard.
“You’ve done an excellent job, Cunnel.” The dark man commented, surveying the prince’s bonds. “But before we commence, I like my prisoners to be void of any energy to resist.”
Still looking at Michael, Philip saw fear flicker in his eyes. As Philip watched his friend, he suddenly felt a heavy blow on the back of his head. The boy slumped forward, and fell to the ground. Valdigard signaled with a single gesture. Harkeyl obediently began placing the unconscious prince in the sack. He had just finished tying off the bundle, when a gush of rain flew in. Everyone turned to see Harkeyl’s companion closing the front door.
“Good, Cryle!” Valdigard said. “Help carry out the prince. We’ll all go to the boat.” From the moment Cryle arrived, Michael eyed him intently. The drenched man was panting breathlessly.
“There … there is no boat.” He gasped.
All eyes fell on the fisherman.
“So,” Valdigard sneered “You thought to take the child for yourself. Planned to cheat me out of my share, did you? And so all this while, you've hidden your boat!”
“No! That is not true!” Cunnel shouted defensively. “It was right where I told you. Behind the oak tree. You, Cryle! You must have looked by the wrong tree!”
“There’s only one blasted tree out by that river.” The dripping man fumed. “I searched everywhere.” A flash of lightening lit the room. Cunnel glanced nervously at Valdigard.
“I tell you, it was there,” he said, trying to direct himself at Cryle. “I never moved it. How can you be sure you didn’t miss it with this wretched storm blinding your vision.” Cryle was becoming indignant.
“I’ve hunted men on worse nights than this!” he bragged. “I know how to find a boat!” The fisherman turned from one man to the other.
“But why would I move it?” Cunnel cried. “You’re the one who’s going to pay me. What would I do with… the…prince?” His words slowed to a halt. Suddenly it came to him. The fisherman turned an accusing finger at Michael.
“You!” Cunnel shouted furiously. “You took my boat!” Valdigard was not convinced.
“You cannot blame that man for all of your mistakes,” he sneered. The fisherman was not listening. Only now was he just beginning to understand what had happened. Infuriated, he grabbed the hunter’s shirt, pressing his knife against his beard.
“That is why you left!” Cunnel said. “I knew you had gone too easily. With all of your feigned virtue, you pretended to humbly obey the prince and leave.” His grasp grew tighter as his voice rose. “Only to return after you’d stolen my boat!”
“This is getting us nowhere,” the foreigner interrupted. “If you don’t know where it is then just admit it.”
“This man took it, I swear to you,” Cunnel answered without taking his eyes off Michael. His companion only groaned impatiently. Time was pressing.
“Cryle, how far did you look?” The vague question received a confused expression. Valdigard hastily explained himself. “Go find a different boat.”
“I didn’t see any.” The man reported. His master turned to the fisherman.
“There’s got to be someone else besides you, Cunnel, with a wretched boat.”
The fisherman spoke of a neighbor who kept one in his stable, about fifteen minutes away.
“But he’s a very cautious man,” Cunnel warned. “No one comes anywhere near his property without his dogs creating an awful din.” There was bright flash of light outside the window followed by loud claps of thunder.
“Those animals will have to bark very loud,” Valdigard said, “if they want to compete with this storm.” The fisherman shook his head.
“He’s a dangerous man to anger,” said Cunnel. “He won’t let you take his boat without a struggle.” The Exthereon prince fingered his sword.
“I’m a dangerous man to refuse,” he said coldly. “Cryle!” The man stood at attention.
“If there’s any trouble,” cautioned Valdigard. He calmly pulled out a dagger. “Make sure you’re the one who’s causing it.” Cryle grinned understandingly.
"We'll meet you down by the river, "continued Valdigard. "By that oak tree."
Thinking his orders complete, the man headed for the door. A sudden call from his master, though, and Cryle's brusque steps came to halt, as he looked back.
"Is it far?" Vadigard asked. Cryle shook his head. It was about ten minutes away, directly behind the fisherman’s hut.
"We'll be there, then." The dark prince slipped the dagger into its sheath. "Now go!"
Cryle quickly left the house. Again, a torrent of rain swept in the opened door. When it shut, there was a loud clap of thunder, and Valdigard looked anxiously at the window. He’d been in this hut far too long. The unexpected encounter with the huntsman had delayed the foreigner’s plans. And now there was no boat! Valdigard glanced angrily at the fisherman. What if Cryle needed help carrying the boat?
“Harkeyl,” Valdigard snapped, “Go help find that boat and get it to the river.” The man bowed and hastened to leave.
“No, wait!” His master called after him. “Take the prince down to the water.” The fisherman tried to interrupt, but Valdigard waved him aside.
“Alone?” Harkeyl asked.
“My lord,” Cunnel ventured to speak.
“Not now, Cunnel!” snapped Valdigard. Then, turning to Harkeyl, he explained that with fewer men walking together, the less noticeable they will be.
“Don’t leave without us,” he continued. “Send Cryle back when the boat’s ready, if we’re not already there by then. Remember, we meet by that tree.”
With another nod, Harkeyl swung the heavy sack over his shoulders. Michael’s eyes followed them out. In his heart, he begged fervently for an angel to accompany the prince.
“Queen of Heaven and of the Angels,” the hunter whispered inaudibly, “You must send someone else to protect him now. There’s nothing left I can do.” His eyes closed. “You know that better than I.”
When Harkeyl had left, Valdigard quickly turned to the two men left.
“How big is this boat?” He asked. The fisherman answered without hesitation.
“Smaller than mine,” he said. “You’ll need to make two trips with all of us.” There was a brief pause. “Maybe three trips,” Cunnel added slyly, “If you’re keeping the hunter.” Valdigard snarled. He’d expected such.
“I want people to think he ran away with the prince.” He explained to the fisherman. “I am not leaving him here.”
“You don’t have to,” smiled Cunnel. It was awkwardly silent. Michael quietly looked on, as the two men were locked in a thoughtful stare.
“I suppose,” the foreigner inquired, “that a corpse would be easier to manage...." turning first to Michael and then to Cunnel, he added, "- just two trips then?"
The fisherman answered with a grin.
