Read Online Traitor's Blood (Civil War Chronicles) by Michael Arnold - Free Book Online

confidence. The troubles of his homeland had battered and weathered him until he seemed hewn from granite.
    Eventually, Rupert spoke, but his tone was low, his manner subdued. ‘Things are not as they were in the Low Countries, Captain. There, a man knew who he was. What he fought for. And, more to the point, what he fought against.’
    ‘I know what I fight against, Your Highness.
You
know.’
    ‘Aye, but you and I are a rare breed, Stryker. What of the rest? The common folk? This is civil war. Neighbour against neighbour, father against son, brother against brother. The lines are blurred.’ The younger man shook his head sadly. ‘Men deceive. They betray. They turn their coats on the word of a preacher, or the whisper of a friend, or for a coin crossing their palm. Take these sorry villains.’ He jerked his head towards a group of figures standing at the tree line on the camp’s edge, some fifty paces away. ‘They are to be shot.’
    Stryker remained silent as they moved between and then beyond the dirty white tent awnings and out on to the open ground. As they drew closer to the group at the trees, he understood that a dozen of the men were soldiers, busily making muskets ready for action. Standing flush against the thick oak trunks were five others, in varying states of terror, hands bound at their backs.
    ‘Taken at the battle?’ he asked.
    The prince shook his head. ‘No, Captain. Taken after. They are ours. Two servants, a pair of cooks and this one, the one nearest us, is—’
    ‘Captain Forde.’
    Rupert regarded Stryker with keen eyes. ‘Just so. You know him?’
    ‘Of him. Distinguished himself at Kineton.’
    ‘Thomas Forde is a traitor, sir. His heart is black as coke. He is named as a turncoat by Blake. Aye, Captain,’ Rupert said. ‘He is another of Blake’s traitors. To my eternal shame.’
    Stryker finally understood. For Prince Rupert of the Rhine, the situation had become a personal matter. Blake, one of the men most trusted by the prince, was Sir Randolph Moxcroft’s Parliamentarian controller. Rupert had taken the betrayal as a personal slight, one for which he felt almost responsible.
    ‘And that is the heart of the matter,’ Rupert continued. ‘Men like Captain Forde, here, fight like lions one moment, andwould thrust a dirk deep between the king’s shoulders the next. I cannot trust a single man, save my uncle, my brother Maurice, and, perhaps, one Captain Stryker . . .’
    Stryker could not help but be startled by the compliment.
    Rupert ignored the infantryman’s raised brow. ‘I am young, Captain, but until now I had never considered myself a fool. I trusted Blake with my life, and he was a goddamned rebel all along. Betraying us. Betraying
me
!’ He sounded as astonished as he was angry. ‘If my own secretary is a traitor, then who else? Astley? Lucas? Who? The earl thinks me mad. Says I should simply send word down to Paulet at Basing. Charge him with this mission. But I do not
know
the man. How could I trust him, given recent events? You were imprisoned with me after Vlotho, Stryker. We shared a cell. You saved my life. I hope – I pray – that I can trust
you
.’
    ‘You can,’ Stryker said simply.
    ‘That was my hope. You would not be so swayed by politics or faith to turn your coat. You have sided with us, and your particular brand of loyalty will keep you with us.’
    Stryker nodded.
    ‘This issue must be resolved by my hand,’ Rupert continued, ‘as it was my man who betrayed us. Ruthven has agreed. As such, the course of action to be taken is my decision alone. And I cannot place my trust in more souls than I could count on the fingers of my hand. You were my champion once before, and I ask you to be that champion again. Go to Hampshire. Get me that treacherous bastard.’
    They reached the tree line. Forde had been bent forward, his spine curved, his head hanging like the bough of an ancient willow, but his hearing was clearly intact, for he straightened