Whitemantle by Robert Carter Read Free Book Online

unfinished buildings, and at the men who climbed over them like squirrels. New warehouses were being thrust ever higher, packed tight against one another. ‘When will this city be finished?’ he asked.
    ‘Finished?’ Gwydion laughed. ‘Never! Here they do not think about reaching perfection, only of staggering greedily onward, for in this city bigger is always held to be better, despite what the redes have to say on the topic.’
    Will could not but marvel at the monstrous bridge of twenty-one piers that had been flung across the Iesis. A traffic of small boats and wherries shot under it where the water flowed rapidly in shadow, while above many houses stood crowded upon the span. There were fortified gates at each end that could be closed to prevent entry into the City, though Gwydion spoke of the many times that the bridge gates had been forced, such as when Jack the Carter had led fifty thousand Kennetmen in revolt against the king and then given the order to kill all the lawyers.
    ‘Not all revolts are to be discouraged, then,’ Willow said wryly.
    And Gwydion laughed. ‘Sometimes a good bonfire serves to cleanse the body politic.’
    Beyond the bridge to the east a great castle brooded on the northern shore, revealed now by the sweep of the river. Soaring lime-white walls stood out bold and square above the waters, and Will knew that this must be the White Tower, the main fortress which the Conqueror had built to control the City almost four hundred years before.
    A strange feeling began to course through Will’s body, making him feel faint.
    ‘Will you take us to Tower Hill?’ he asked, pointing to the great keep.
    Gwydion’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Do you think I should?’
    ‘I…’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘We cannot go there, for the White Tower remains under siege both by land and by water.’
    ‘Under siege?’ Willow said, surprised. ‘Who’s attacking it?’
    ‘Men wearing the Earl of Sarum’s livery. A body of them stayed while the rest of his host marched north to Delamprey. Friend Sarum has begun calling himself the military governor of Trinovant if you please!’
    Willow sniffed. ‘But I thought Duke Richard’s allies were welcomed into the City by the Lord Mayor and his Aldermen.’
    ‘They were. And the White Tower was the bolt-hole into which all the king’s supporters jumped for safety. They’re still there and dare not come out.’
    ‘They’ll have to when the king himself orders it.’ Willow resettled Bethe on her hip. ‘Don’t they know that he’s coming here?’
    Gwydion offered a vinegary smile. ‘I expect they do. My own best guess is that Richard and Hal will arrive inthree days’ time, which is why I must get on with my work—’
    ‘What does the mystical head of Bran say about the matter?’ Will asked suddenly.
    The question came out of the blue. Gwydion halted and squinted at Will. ‘Again?’
    ‘I asked you about Bran, Master Merlyn!’ Will’s voice was deep and otherworldly. ‘Or does his head lie elsewhere these days?’
    Gwydion continued to look hard at Will as he made his reply. ‘Bran’s head remains buried within the grounds of the White Tower. It is still attended by thirteen ravens, just as I promised you, Sire.’
    Will, pale-faced and uncertain now, put a hand to his head. ‘I…I don’t feel…’
    And it seemed suddenly that he was falling.
    When he opened his eyes again he found it hard to breathe. He struggled, but quickly realized that Willow was holding a cloth to his nose, which was bleeding.
    ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You banged your head.’
    ‘I must have…fainted.’
    ‘What do you remember about Bran?’ Gwydion asked as Will stood up.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Bran. He was the twenty-eighth king of the blood of Brea, a great king who with his brother, Beli, took armies across the Narrow Seas and led them against the rising power of sorcery in the East. The brothers sacked the great city of Tibor, and later Bran