“Me.”
Brother Jerome crossed himself, uttering a hasty prayer. “You can’t consider such an abomination,” he said.
“I can consider anything to save my sister,” she said fiercely. Thomas stood beside her, remote, powerful. “Are we going after them?” she demanded. “Or do I leave you behind?”
“You should beat her,” Brother Jerome said. “Often, and severely.”
“Once we’re married,” he agreed carelessly. “Have you a horse? Lady Claire lost hers.”
“That would leave me without a mount!” the good friar protested.
“We’ll bring it back to you,” Thomas promised. “And you may marry us upon our return.”
“And if you don’t come back, my son?”
“Then pray for our souls, Brother Jerome.”
If Richard the Fair, had had any sense, they would have avoided the market town of Watlington and the boisterous festival that spilled over into the countryside.
A man of robust appetites, he loved a fair as well as most, but he had more important things to attend to. There’d be time enough for feasting and whoring when they’d finished at Middleham Castle. Time enough once the king was dead.
Grendel would have to die as well—it was an unfortunate necessity. Richard was wise enough to know that he would never be secure as long as someone held the secret to his power. As long as he kept his plain, pious sister in her cage, Simon of Navarre would do exactly as he wanted. But that wouldn’t work for long.
Richard found it vastly amusing that his partner in wickedness would have done anything as absurd as fall prey to a quiet little sparrow of a creature. In the years that Simon had been Richard’s chief advisor he’d shown not a trace of weakness or partiality, not for women or other men or young boys. He had seemed powerful and inviolate.
But his sweet little sister Alys had brought a change to all that, and it had been sheer luck that had brought them together. Richard had never thought Simon would choose the plainer of the sisters, he had a love of beauty and finery, and to choose the lesser one seemed unlike him.
But he’d chosen Alys, and he’d become absurdly vulnerable. Not through anything as obvious as sex, since it was clear that Simon of Navarre had lost the ability to function as other men did. Perhaps Alys really was a witch after all, one who’d used her powers on the all-powerful sorcerer.
The reasons behind it didn’t matter, only the results. Simon of Navarre would obey without question, and would continue to do so as long as Richard kept Alys hostage. Once he killed her, Simon would have no motive for loyalty other than his own self-interest.
In the past Richard would have assumed that Simon’s self-interest would rule over any stray sentiment. Now he wasn’t so sure. He would keep the two of them alive as long as he needed them. Until the king was dead and things were well in hand to ensure Richard’s claim to the throne.
And then he would show great good sense and have Simon killed before he dispensed with his annoyance of a sister. It was never wise to underestimate the wrath of a wizard.
There was bear baiting and cock fighting in the market town. Roasted meats and music and magicians to entertain the crowds. He should have pressed on, gone the long way around the bustling town, but he was tired, bored, and hungry. The wise thing would have been to move onward. But Richard the Fair didn’t waste his energy being wise.
They camped on the bluff outside the town, and the smell of food and livestock rose to mingle with the wood-smoke. They were two days away from Middleham, two days away from the start of his glorious future. He could afford a day of pleasure before he got on with his life’s work.
He rubbed his balls absently. He wouldn’t go back to Summersedge Keep once the deed was done. He owned lands and castles all over England, though the Keep had always been a favorite. He would move South, toward Kent, and send for Lady Claire. She would still be locked in her solar, as he’d commanded, and he had complete faith that his servants wouldn’t dare fail him. They knew the punishment for mistakes.
He’d conveniently decided that Claire was no sister to him, and her beauty made the possibility of damnation worth the risk. But he found himself wondering about little Alys. What about her had managed to ensnare his all-powerful wizard? He couldn’t reasonably deny his kinship with her as well, but he found himself wondering what lay beneath her ugly clothes. Perhaps he’d find out before he had her smothered.
The night was cold, drear, with only a quarter moon to light the sky. Simon of Navarre lay sleeping in the corner of the tent, wisely making no attempt to elude his liege lord’s presence. He was a sensible man; he’d accepted the way things were and had made the best of it, sleeping the sleep of those without conscience, his imprisoned wife forgotten.
Richard the Fair grinned as he stretched out on his own bed. Maybe there was hope for Grendel after all.
Simon waited until Richard started snoring before he rose to look down at his liege lord.
He could cut Richard’s throat and watch him bleed to death, speechless, in a matter of moments. But that wouldn’t solve the problem of Alys’s captivity. There were four men guarding the wagon, and they’d been told to be particularly suspicious of him. He knew he would have one chance, and one chance alone, to rescue her, and he had to make certain there were no mistakes. A diversion was simple enough to arrange, but it would have to be timed carefully so that he could be there to release her, and there had to be some avenue of escape. There was no question but that she would have to mount the back of a horse or accept death, and he hoped she would make the wise decision.
