Part One

"'Tis not a good time to be Deryni," the old man said as he placed a batch of radishes on his vegetable stall. He glanced around to see if anyone heard him.

"Aye, Imre has not made it any better," an even older woman responded quietly. She was the only customer that had arrived early to the market.

The market in the village square of Caerrorie had very few patrons that morning. Fewer because of the actions of the Festillic king Imre. One of his precious Deryni vassals had been murdered, a Lord Rannulf. Widow Claret found part of his body on her land at dawn one morning a few days ago. He had been drawn and quartered. In reprisal, the king had fifty of the villagers taken hostage and intended to invoke the Law of Festil. It allows him for each passing day, two peasants to be hanged until the murderer came forth. "There is no one about to hear our conversation, Betia. I cannot believe Imre could be so bold."

"Still, we must beware, Toft," Betia whispered. "Because Imre's hand reaches all the way from Valoret, we have to be careful."

"The Lord Camber will have something to say about what will happen."

"He may, but what good did it do those friends of ours that are in Imre's dungeons? The good earl will do what he can, I know. Already, I've talked with his Truth-Readers about Rannulf. Toft, what will we do?" Betia asked sounding desperate.

"We will be patient. We are too old to do anything about our friends. As much as I want to do something, I will continue selling my vegetables. There is hope, Camber's son, Cathan will do what he can to set the hostages free, but I doubt he will, knowing Imre's inclination toward those who do not like the Deryni. They may find the murderer, but Imre will kill all of our friends because he can."

"Why do people hate us so, Toft?"

"Because we are different. They don't trust us. I just pray for more Deryni like Lord Camber. He is a good man, nay, a great man. Look at what he did by paying our portion of the tariff. He did not have to do that, yet he did. There are not many like him Betia."

Betia's closed her eyes as Toft spoke of their former earl.

"Even when Imre took the throne, Camber retired because he could not bear to watch Imre take Gwynedd hostage just so he could have his new capitol. Camber of Culdi is a principled man. It just so happens he is Deryni. Gwynedd needs more like him, Deryni or not."

Nodding her head in agreement, Betia thought of better days, days not so long ago. She could hear Toft prattling about their landlord, but she paid him mind, she had heard it before. Instead, she thought of years ago when the earl brought his children with him to the village as he checked on his tenants. They would play with some of the villager's children as the kind earl talked with his tenant farmers. She remembered it clearly. Cathan, Joram, and... her thoughts came to a crashing halt. Evaine, she had seen Evaine with her brother yesterday.

"Lord Camber is a great man..." she heard Toft say.

"Toft...," she interrupted.

"... he is a man we wish we all could be," Toft said not listening to Betia.

"Toft...." she tried again. "Toft, listen to me," Betia said louder.

"What Betia?" Toft answered perturbed that she had interrupted him.

"I forgot to tell you. I saw the lady Evaine yesterday with her brother Joram near the church. That Healer was with them, you know, the one she sweet on."

"Rhys Thuryn is his name," Toft said recalling the young man.

"Yes, that's him. They were leaving the church with Sam'l yesterday afternoon. Do you think they are up to something?"

"Who knows? Ever since Joram joined the Michaelines, he has been up to something, at least that is the impression I get when I see him. He seems to always have this mischievous look on his face." Toft shook his head in agreement with his statement.

"Maybe Father Joram knows something about the murder or maybe the healer does. He works quite a bit in Valoret. Perhaps he knows something. We could ask Sam'l," Betia said sounding hopeful.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Toft replied. "I would not count on it though. You are the one who wants to be cautious, remember?"

***

Betia did want to be cautious, but she also wanted to know what had happened to Lord Rannulf. Other villagers had come to the conclusion that the Willimites had done the deed but had no proof. She had talked with several of the women in the village about the murder. They only knew what their husbands had mentioned in passing and Betia already knew what most of them had said.

The rumors were that the king's Truth-Readers had probed the hostages and learned nothing about the murder. No one from the village could have done the atrocity that had happened to Rannulf, no one was capable. In fact, no one from the village could have been intelligent enough of such proficiency. The murder must have been done by someone who was skillful in the art of killing. The villagers were just convenient.

The Willimites, however, were nowhere to be found. If the Willimites were to blame for Rannulf's murder, it would stand to reason that they were capable. They were a group of people sworn to punish Deryni who escaped the normal justice non-Deryni usually received. Rannulf fit into their narrow category. The fact that Rannulf kept a catamite at his castle at Eastmarch helped the Willimites crusade against him. Somehow he had bought off his bishop to keep from being excommunicated from the church. Rannulf's reputation had made it to Caerrorie which meant the Willimites probably knew about his perversion. The reason the Willimites were so zealous about their cause was their patron saint for their movement was a child martyr for Deryni ill-use, Willim.

Last week a child was molested from one of Rannulf's villages. It was believed that Rannulf had a hand in that brutality. If the Willimites did have any knowledge of Rannulf's participation of the molestation, they would act on it. Her guess was that the Willimites did kill Rannulf, not that she did not mind that Rannulf was dead, but her friends were being held as hostages in his stead. She had to try something to free her neighbors and friends.

After she left the market, she thought about going to the ancestral home of the retired earl to talk with Sam'l but decided against it. Even if he knew something, he would probably tell Lord Camber instead of her. If anyone could get something done, it would be Camber MacRorie, Earl of Culdi and onetime advisor of the King of Gwynedd. She was just a simple woman, a Deryni woman who had her mind set on finding the murderer of Lord Rannulf, but not today. It was Michaelmas and nothing would be accomplished until tomorrow. She spent most of the day doing more than her normal chores and work. If she was going to investigate Rannulf's murder she would need her work done.

The first of the hostages would be killed tomorrow. She could do nothing to keep them from being murdered. The thought that fifty men, women, and children could make up for one Deryni was preposterous. She had watched helpless as the king's soldiers took her friends and neighbors away that day and felt just as helpless now. Shaking her head, Betia quietly calmed her thoughts. Alone in her cottage, she settled down for the night. The fire was roaring in the hearthstone which would keep her warm until morning. It had been cold and wintry early this year. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she heard a horse galloping through the village. She wondered who would be out this late at night as she rolled over on her side to get comfortable and quickly fell asleep.