The Eighth Court tcotf-4 Page 7

  “I’m not a murderer,” Claire protested. “It’s not something I’ve even thought about before. People don’t kill other people. Do they?” She looked to Alex for support. Alex froze, caught on the question, unable to lie directly.

  “Alex?” said Katherine. “Claire asked you a question.”

  Alex shook her head. “You don’t want to know,” she said.

  “I think I have a right to know,” said Katherine. “Don’t you? You’ve never killed anyone, have you Alex? Not for real?”

  “Tracy Welham,” said Alex. “Natasha Tolly, Jennifer Longman.” Her expression was blank, her eyes cold, meeting her mother’s gaze.

  “That was an accident,” said Katherine. “It was a build up of gas. There was an inquiry…”

  “There was a guy called Naylor,” she continued. “He drowned — I drowned him.” She bit her lip.

  “You can’t have done,” Katherine said. “Is that all of them?”

  “Eve, and Chipper…” her hands were balled into fists. “I didn’t kill them, but they died because of me.”

  “How many? How many people have you killed?” demanded Katherine, her voice rising in pitch.

  “Not now, Katherine,” said Blackbird.

  “How many?” Katherine repeated.

  “Enough,” said Alex sullenly. “No one that didn’t deserve it.”

  “I can’t believe you said that,” said Katherine. “I can’t believe my own daughter… where? Who were these people? What could they possibly have done?”

  “Just let it be, Mum,” said Alex. “It was them or me, all right?”

  “Do you think,” said Blackbird, “that you could have this discussion with your daughter at another time?”

  “What better time is there to find out that-”

  “Enough!” said Blackbird. “Or I will be taking this discussion somewhere else.”

  Katherine gave her a dark look, but faced with Blackbird’s implacable determination, she relented. “We’ll talk about this later,” she said to Alex.

  “I don’t think we will,” said Alex under her breath.

  “Do you have somewhere safe you can go?” said Blackbird, bringing the focus of attention back to Claire.

  “I could do with getting some things from my flat…?”

  “If you go back there, he’ll kill you, if only out of spite. You laid him out and then stabbed him. He has to kill you, or he’ll never hear the last of it. He’ll be looking for you.” She looked at Alex and then at Katherine. “And for anyone else who knows what happened.”

  “Me?” said Katherine. “I don’t know anything.”

  Alex responded. “Anyone fey can hear the truth, Mum. There’s no point in lying.” The irony of that statement coming from Alex was not lost on Blackbird, but she kept a straight face for Claire’s sake.

  “What can I do?” asked Claire.

  “You can tell me what really happened at the Quit Rents ceremony,” said Blackbird.

  Claire’s expression became closed. “Nothing happened,” she said.

  “OK then,” Blackbird said. “What didn’t happen? Something changed.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Claire, but this time there was evasion in her words.

  Blackbird shook her head. “It’s worse than you think. The safe in your office has been taken, along with the contents. The knives are lost, and the only horseshoes are the one in your flat, and the one in your bag. The rest have gone with the knives.”

  “That’s bad news,” said Claire. Again, Blackbird could hear the evasion in her tone.

  “Claire has told us the ceremony did not go as it should,” sad Blackbird to Alex, “and that the Remembrancer stumbled on his words, and yet she says that everything was as it should be. Even so, the Seventh Court are here, when they should not be able to cross until the solstice, which is still days away.”

  “They must have come here at the equinox,” said Claire. “Maybe they’ve been here all the time.”

  “That may be true,” said Blackbird, “and yet something isn’t right here. When I told you the safe had been taken, you barely reacted.” She watched Claire closely.

  “Jerry and I did everything as we should,” said Claire. “You can’t blame us.”

  “For what? What is there to be blamed for?” asked Blackbird.

  “I meant for the Seventh Court being here,” she answered, but there was that twist of evasion again.

  “Very well,” said Blackbird, getting to her feet. “Thank you for the warning. We will do what we can. I wish you luck. Keep moving. Don’t stay in any place too long. You already know to take precautions.” She glanced significantly at Claire’s handbag. Even with it tucked out of sight, she could sense the iron of the horseshoe in the bag. It was disrupting her sense of truth and falsehood in the room, but not enough to miss that Claire wasn’t being entirely forthcoming.

  “What about me?” asked Claire.

  “I’d like to help you,” said Blackbird, “but you’re holding something back. You may have your reasons for that, and I respect your secrecy, but until I know what the problem is, I can’t help.”

  “So what can I do?”

  “You can finish it,” said Blackbird. “You just need to make a proper job of it this time.”

  “I can’t kill anyone!” said Claire. She glanced again at Alex as if wondering how anyone could do such a thing.

  “Then you’d better start setting your affairs in order,” said Blackbird, “because whoever came after you won’t have any such compunction.”

  “Why can’t she come back with us?” asked Alex. “She could stay at the courts.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” said Blackbird.

  “Oh, come on,” said Alex. It’s not like she doesn’t know about us, and there are loads of empty rooms still.”

  “No, Alex,” said Blackbird.

  “I don’t want to be an imposition,” said Claire.

  “It’s not safe there,” said Blackbird, meeting Claire’s gaze, “not for you.” Alex sent Blackbird a questioning look, and Blackbird gave the merest shake of her head.

  “Where then?” said Claire. “I can’t keep living out of motels.”

  “If you keep moving you’ll be harder to trace,” Blackbird remarked. “Don’t stay in one place more than a day. Never go back to the same place twice. Don’t do anything to attract attention — ditch your bank accounts, credit cards, drivers licence — anything that links back to you. You don’t want to leave a trail that can be followed.”

  “They’re not in the safe,” said Claire.

  “What?” said Alex.

  “The horseshoes and the knives. They’re not kept in the safe all the time — only in the days close to the ceremony,” said Claire.

  “You understand,” said Blackbird, “I am not offering you sanctuary. I am simply offering to help you find a way out.”

  “I can’t live like that.” Claire fished into her bag and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue which she proceeded to twist. “You have to help me.”

  “It may not be enough,” said Blackbird.

  “It will be something. It’s better than sitting in hotel rooms waiting for the money to run out, never trusting anyone, waiting for a knock on the door, or the click of a lock.”

  “Tell me about the safe,” said Blackbird.

  “It was supposed to be a secret,” said Claire. “We’re not supposed to tell anyone.”

  “Someone knows,” said Blackbird, “or you wouldn’t be where you are now.”

  Claire gathered herself, moving her bag, pushing back her hair. She leaned forward in the chair. “You must promise not to tell anyone,” she said.

  “No,” said Blackbird.

  “You must!” said Claire.

  “I won’t make a promise I might break,” said Blackbird. “That’s not my way. We’re beyond that.”

  Claire, looked first at Alex and then at Katherine.

  Blackbird followed her gaze. “They
’re both in on this, though they may come to wish that they were not… you may as well tell them.”

  Claire looked from one to the other, then resigned herself. “Since Jerry retired there’s been a bit of a hiatus. I had this idea I was going to choose a successor — a new clerk for a new Remembrancer — and semi-retire myself. I’ve been going through the journals of the past clerks at the National Archives, looking at how previous clerks have chosen their successors. Looking for clues.”

  “How does this relate to the contents of the safe?” asked Blackbird.

  I’m getting to that. This goes back to the beginnings of the ceremony,” said Claire. Establishing the barrier took time. There were… incidents. Like Rome, the barrier wasn’t built in a day. Sacrifices had to be made.”

  “What kind of sacrifices?” asked Katherine, moving around to sit at the other end of the sofa.

  “The usual kind. You have to understand that as the barrier grew stronger the Seventh Court became aware of it. They took steps to prevent the ceremony being performed. They killed successive Remembrancers — bribed them, threatened them, kidnapped their children, murdered their families. But the crown was committed. One king after another made sure that the ceremony was performed. The first ceremony was in 1067,” said Claire. “With just the two knives. The date was kept secret, the venue was changed, people were switched at the last minute. As the barrier got stronger the Seventh Court became more desperate. Still they came. The cost in human lives became difficult to hide. There were… reports.”

  “Reports?” said Blackbird.

  “This was the time of Plantagenet rule. Anything which undermined the King’s sovereignty was ruthlessly suppressed. Anything which compromised it was dealt with.”

  “Only this wasn’t dealt with?” said Blackbird.

  “Oh, it was. The barrier was established, and for a while there was peace. The Seventh Court could not cross. It held, and the courts and the crown were united. We had succeeded.”

  “In the year 1244 something went wrong. The Remembrancer didn’t perform the ceremony. There were extenuating circumstances — sickness, a bridge collapsed, a servant was compromised. The ceremony failed and the Seventh Court broke through. There was an attack on the King — an all-out assault to remove the figurehead and destroy the barrier forever. They nearly succeeded.”

  “But they didn’t,” said Blackbird.

  “There were rumours,” said Claire. “The Feyre… there was infrequent communication before that time — a dialogue, albeit at diplomatic levels. After that night, nothing was heard from them for years.”

  “An all-out assault…” said Blackbird.

  “Pardon?” said Claire.

  Blackbird hesitated, and then relented. “You are sharing secrets, and it is only fair that we should share some of ours. There was a time long ago when the Seventh Court broke through in an effort to eliminate all of the half-breed fey, all those of mixed race, in a single night. I have heard it referred to, but no one talks about it. There are enmities that go back to that time that exist today.”

  “The King escaped,” said Claire, “with the help of a cadre of hand-picked elite knights. They fought with heavy steel and iron. Many of them died, but they saved the King. He was smuggled out in the chaos while those that protected him stood against the Seventh Court. It was a massacre.”

  “Human knights are no match for wraithkin,” said Blackbird.

  “They didn’t need to defeat them,” said Claire. “They only needed to delay them long enough for the King to escape. In that they succeeded, thought the cost was high.”

  “And they were rewarded?” asked Blackbird.

  “Hardly,” said Claire. “The knights were Templars — Poor Soldier Knights of Christ and the Order of the Temple of Solomon — it’s a misleading title. They were hardly poor, being sons of noble families of vast wealth and power. Neither were they simple soldiers. They were well-equipped, highly trained and exceptionally skilled. If anyone could stop the Seventh Court, they could.”

  “But they didn’t,” said Blackbird.

  “No, they didn’t. But the crown was grateful for what they accomplished. And as crowns will, showed gratitude in ways that were two-handed. They received lands and charters, the gateway to further wealth and power, and they were honoured with certain duties — the assurance that a certain ceremony would be performed, come what may, at sword-point if necessary.”

  “The Quit Rents…” said Blackbird.

  “Six elite knights were chosen, one for each court of the Feyre. Six families were selected to guard the ceremony down the years. One family was too fragile. One dynasty might be subverted, or bribed, or threatened — but six. That was a good number.”

  “Which families?” asked Blackbird.

  “You see now why this is secret,” said Claire. “With the knowledge of the families you can find the guardians. You could subvert them, bribe them, eliminate them. But you would have to know who they were, first.”

  “How do you know?” asked Blackbird.

  “Officially, I don’t. It is not good for me to know. It is better that I simply know they are there. When the time of the ceremony draws near, they deliver the knives and the nails. I don’t know where they’re kept at other times, and that’s by design. I can’t reveal what I don’t know.”

  “We have to find them,” said Alex.

  “Find them how?” asked Katherine. “We don’t even know who they are, do we?”

  “I have the journals, so we know one of the names,” said Claire. “The horseshoes are rendered in respect of a forge in Tweezers Alley. The forge was on a corner of the Templar’s field and was owned by Walter le Brun. He was one of them. That’s as much as I’m supposed to know.”

  “Supposed to know?” asked Blackbird.

  “Before he went to Australia, Jerry told me something. We were talking about the ceremony, about why it wasn’t right.”

  “Go on…” said Blackbird.

  “He said that the ceremony had devolved to the clerks, but that the protection of the ceremony was still the duty of the Queen’s Remembrancer. Each year, at the ceremony, they hold up the horseshoes to be counted, but it’s not the horseshoes they’re counting. There are people in the audience who make themselves known to the Remembrancer as a sign of their continued fidelity and service. If there are enough, the Remembrancer announces Good Number, and the ceremony is complete for the year.”

  “And how many were at this year’s ceremony?” asked Blackbird.

  “I don’t know,” said Claire, “but Jerry wasn’t happy.”

  “Can’t we just look up le Brun up in the phone book? What about the Internet?”

  “That was in 1245,” said Claire. “The family lines have merged and divided. There’s no guarantee that anyone called Le Brun would know anything about this.”

  “Then they could all be long dead,” said Katherine.

  “The point was not that he was the protector,” said Claire, “but that the duty devolved to his line. His successors would take on the duty, and their successors, and so on, down the years.”

  “So where are the Templars now?” asked Alex.

  “They don’t exist. The order was disbanded in 1307 by Philip IV of France, who seized the assets. A papal bull was issued, dissolving the order. Many of them were killed, a number were tortured. Not in England, though. Edward II disputed the French crown’s claim to the assets and the assets in England were gifted to the Order of St John, the Knights Hospitaler. They were succeeded by the Societies of the Inns of Court, which gave us Lincoln’s Inn, Gray’s Inn, Inner Temple and Middle Temple.”

  “Temple?” said Alex. “Isn’t that the same as Templars?”

  “Technically, yes,” said Claire, “The Templars were named after the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem, and Temple in London was named after the order. Nowadays, Inner and Middle Temple are the associations to which court barristers belong. Their idea of a test of strength is to put their cas
e before a judge, and then have a glass of something in a wine bar with the opposition afterwards. There are no Templars in Temple now.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Blackbird.

  “It crossed my mind,” said Claire, “But then I would have expected to see them at the ceremony. The odd barrister does turn up, but they generally sit in the upper gallery and watch. Most of the people that come are from the City for the investiture of the Sheriffs of the City of London.”

  “What about the Remembrancer,” said Blackbird. “Does he know who they are?”

  “The whole idea is that neither of us know who they are, and then we can’t betray them. They protect us, and in return they too are protected.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Alex. “What are they for? I mean, they turn up and all that, but why?”

  “Why does the testing of two knives, one blunt and one sharp, create a barrier between the worlds?” said Blackbird. “Claire, in your bag you carry a horseshoe, do you not?”

  Claire nodded.

  “Would you show it to us?” asked Blackbird.

  “I thought it was… impolite,” said Claire.

  “Just this once,” said Blackbird.

  Claire reached down and opened her bag, extracting the heavy iron horseshoe which looked massive in her delicate hands. Alex hissed, while Blackbird looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Alex, what is it?” said Katherine, looking suddenly worried.

  “Katherine, would you take the horseshoe from Claire?”

  “I wouldn’t normally allow…” said Claire.

  “As a test,” said Blackbird.

  Claire handed the heavy shoe to Katherine who took it in both hands. Blackbird watched Alex, whose expression had the look of someone who’d expected wine and found themselves to be drinking vinegar.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” said Katherine. “It’s heavy, but…”

  “Take it from her,” Blackbird said to Alex.

  “No!” said Alex.

  “It’s only a horseshoe,” said Blackbird.

  “You do it then, if that’s all it is,” Alex challenged.

  Blackbird smiled slowly. “It is only a horseshoe. They are only a couple of knives. It is only a hazel rod, and yet there is power in it. Why does the testing of two knives set a barrier between the worlds? As my friend Gregor would tell you, ritual itself is important, method is as important as means. Having the knights at the ceremony is part of the ritual. They are symbols, and symbols are important.”