One of the Order’s lay volunteers burst out. “It’s not civil war, Ser Gabriel! It’s all true-hearted Albans agin’ the Galles.”
But Prior Wishart shook his head-and so did Gelfred. Gelfred looked around slowly. “There were more Alban knights-and spearmen-fighting the Occitans than there were Galles,” he said. “De Vrailly and de Rohan have many adherents. Some are greedy men, ’tis sure. But many are merely loyal Albans, fighting for their King.”
Ser Gabriel nodded. “My lords, what we need to do is save the Queen. I think everyone here is aware that I am a warlock. I think many of you know how potent the good Sister Amicia is, as well.” Again, he looked around. Outside, the sun was dimmed briefly by a racing cloud, and then brightened again to a summer-like golden intensity. Easter Monday was a beautiful day. “I suspect that the King is ensorcelled,” he said.
Amicia nodded.
“This King has always been swayed by the nearest opinion, the last word.” He shrugged. “Or so my lady mother, his sister, has always maintained. Such a man would be easy to control with sorcery, I believe.” He looked around. “Whether he is drugged or ensorcelled, the immediate requirement is the rescue of the Queen. That is best done inside the rule of law, by one of us-me, unless you overrule me-fighting on her behalf tomorrow.”
The Prince of Occitan looked startled. Then he spoke to Prior Wishart, and after two or three sentences, he sat back.
“Prince Tancredo asks if you really believe that the Galles will just let you ride into the tourney ground and fight tomorrow? Do you even think that they will hold the tournament? They’ve arrested or attainted most of the participants.”
The Red Knight leaned back, and to Amicia he wore that insufferable look of pleasure he had when he felt he was smarter than everyone else. “They haven’t attainted me,” he said. “Or Michael, or Gavin, or Tom. In fact, no one at this table is attainted except the members of the Order-and the prince, against whom the King has ordered war. The rest of us can legally ride into the lists and fight.” He looked at the Prince. “Prince Tancredo, even tyranny has rules. De Vrailly has to appear to follow the law. He cannot just kill the Queen.”
Tom snorted. “O’ course he can. Boyo, I love ye like a brother, but they can rope us all in an’ kill us, every mother’s son. An’ tell the commons whatever story they please.”
The Red Knight nodded. “I’m not as great a fool as that, Tom. I disagree-but we have several loaded dice in this.”
Tom was cleaning his nails with a dirk as long as most men’s swords. “Eh? Name ’em, y’ loon.” He grinned and waved the knife. “I mean, I’ll come wi’ ye regardless of what mad drivel of a plan you cook up, but I’d like to hear what we have on our side.”
The Red Knight frowned. “I don’t like to lay my plans out.”
The table gave a collective sigh.
Amicia leaned forward. “I think that this time, Gabriel, you must share. We are all risking our lives. This is not one of your military pranks.”
The Red Knight’s face held a flash of annoyance-even anger. But then he met her eye and smiled.
“Yes. Well.” He looked around. “I suppose that if we have a traitor at this point, we’re fucked anyway.”
The men and women of the Order flinched at his bad language. Amicia thought how like a small boy he sometimes was.
“First, we have Gelfred’s men all across the countryside,” he said slowly. “Because of them, and their chain of messengers, we have collected the men of the Order and Master Pye’s convoy and all the Occitans who escaped from their camp. That will give us two hundred lances and a solid body of infantry. Not, I confess, enough to face the royal army in the field, if it comes to that. But a potent threat nonetheless, and all of them will converge on Lorica tomorrow morning to cover our retreat.” He smiled at the Prior. “If you agree, of course, my lord, and you, Prince Tancredo.”
“Well eno’ but they won’t cover the tourney field.” Tom was flicking at some black skin where the acid had bitten into his forearms while fighting the moths, using his eating knife to flick the scabs off the already healed flesh beneath.
“No, but your cousin Ranald will,” Ser Gabriel said.
All around the table men turned and commented, or grunted. “Ranald knows the palace and the King’s Guard like the back of his hand, and he’s had four weeks to build-and half of the red banda is with him.”
Tom grinned. “I like that,” he said. “Oh, aye. I like that.”
Ser Gabriel bowed like a small boy at school accepting a prize. “Why thank you, Ser Thomas.” He looked around. “I plan a few diversions as well.”
Amicia thought, He’s still not telling us anything. She leaned forward, greatly daring.
“And you have a plan,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”
Ser Gabriel nodded at her. “I do have a plan. Our greatest ally will be surprise. With my knights, we ride in. I show the Queen’s guerdon and offer to fight de Vrailly. We browbeat them into fighting-I think questioning de Vrailly’s courage ought to get him moving faster than his councillors can stop him. I beat him-and we win.” He smiled. “I think the Galles will be done as soon as de Vrailly’s arse hits the dirt. If the Queen is proven guiltless-”
Prior Wishart shook his head. “I fear you are oversimplifying, my son. The archbishop-I know him, and his type. He will stop at nothing to make sure you are defeated. He will cheat.”
The Red Knight grinned his smug grin. “That’s just it,” he said. “De Vrailly won’t cheat. I don’t think he can.”
Amicia spoke up. “I want to try for the King,” she said.
There was silence.
“I think I am the ablest healer in this gathering,” she said. “If the King has an affliction-”
“Or a curse, or an ensorcelment-” Ser Gabriel said. He nodded at her like one conspirator to another.
“Sister Amicia is subject to arrest at any moment,” Prior Wishart said. “And if caught, she can be burned.”
Amicia shivered. But she squared her shoulders. “I’ll dress as a maid,” she said. “In a kirtle with flowers in my hair, I doubt anyone will take me for a nun.” Her eyes bored into Gabriel’s. “Please, gentles, no false gallantry.”
“I wonder how close you can get to the King,” Ser Gabriel said.
There was a silence, and Prior Wishart shook his head. “The guards would never let her close enough,” he said. He turned to glare at the Red Knight, and noted that at some point Sister Amicia had left her chair.
In fact, she was standing at his elbow.
“You learned that from me!” Ser Gabriel spat.
“Yes,” Amicia said.
Most of the people present laughed.
The Red Knight went on to lay out his plan in what detail he had. Neither the knights of the Order nor the Occitans were pleased to be relegated to forming the rearguard.
Ser Gabriel was adamant. “If you ride openly into the lists with us, we’ll be law-breakers,” he said.
Bad Tom grinned. “Laddie, we’re all law-breakers. Eh? Not lambs. What if they just take us? A hundred crossbows and we’re done-all our steel won’t avail us aught.”
Gabriel frowned, and his mouth twitched sideways, as it did when he felt he was being hounded. “We’ll make something up,” he said. “I agree with the Prior and Sister Amicia that the Galles have more hermetical power than they are showing-but enough to face me? And Amicia?” He smiled at her.
She frowned.
“And if they try to arrest you, then there’s civil war,” she said.
“We will fight our way out. And take the Queen with us,” he said.
She nodded. “But I’ve heard that civil war is what the Galles want. So why not take you all the moment you show yourselves?”
Tom laughed. “She’s got you there,” he said.