“What do you have to smile at, my lady?” Madlen asked curiously as she locked the bars with a heavy chain.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Alys said, “and we’re going to a fair.”
Madlen threw a doubtful look at the overcast sky. “You won’t be enjoying the fair, Lady Alys,” she said.
“Oh, even in my cage I’m planning to enjoy it tremendously,” she said sweetly.
And Madlen waddled off, shaking her head at her mistress’s lack of wits.
It required perfect timing. It required a far greater element of luck than Simon of Navarre preferred to count on. It required Richard the Fair to play his part, true to his nature, and it required Alys’s trust, her selfish sister’s willingness to follow orders, and God’s will.
In all, there were just too many unlikely variables to depend on any chance of success.
But there was no alternative. By tomorrow they would reach Middleham Castle, and the path from then on was set. The child would die, most likely followed by Alys and Simon. He expected it would take Richard less than a year to get himself named king—the others who stood closer to the throne were as easily disposed of as a twelve-year-old monarch.
He could count on Claire’s love for her sister. He could count on bravery from Sir Thomas du Rhaymer and Alys. He could even count on Richard’s vanity to put the plan into motion.
But what he couldn’t depend on was God’s mercy.
He was more than willing to make a bargain with God. His quiet little wife was entranced by him, he knew that without smugness. But she would be much better off with some pious and stalwart knight. If he could manage to free her, and dispense with the evil incarnate that was her half brother, then he would willingly barter his own life. After all, he’d seen and experienced more in his thirty-four years than most men did in twice that time. If he had to die, he was willing that it be so. As long as Alys lived.
Richard rode up beside him, all boisterous good will. “Shall we pass through the fair, or stop to enjoy ourselves, Grendel?” he demanded.
He’d already made up his mind, of course, and his question was merely a taunt. But Simon had spent the last three years manipulating him, and he wasn’t about to stop when the stakes were so high.
“I suggest we skirt the village,” he said.
“I confess, that had been my original thought,” Richard observed. “Too much distraction for the guards, and we wouldn’t want Lady Alys to make a scene.”
“Indeed. Though she could, of course, be silenced. And I doubt any of your men at arms would dare allow themselves to be lax in their duties.”
“True enough. Then why don’t you think we should stop at the fair?”
“The town of Watlington is known throughout the north of England as the birthplace of Thador the Magician.”
“Thador? Never heard of him.”
Since Simon had just created him that seemed logical. “He was the greatest wizard who ever lived, more miraculous than Merlin himself. Ballads are still sung of the wondrous things he did, and wizards and sorcerers from all over the world come to Watlington in hopes of impressing the people with their craft. Since the people are quite used to magic it requires a superior wizard indeed.”
“Have you ever been here?” Richard eyed him curiously.
“No, my lord. I have never felt the need to prove myself to a bunch of peasants.”
“Of course not,” Richard agreed. “Nevertheless…”
“Sire?”
“You say this town is well-known throughout England as the home of wizardry?”
“Throughout the Christian world, my lord.”
“Then it would reflect very well on me if my personal wizard was proven to be a master at his craft.”
He’d fallen for it, like a hungry carp for a fat worm. “My lord, I won’t stand in the town square and conduct a magic show to astonish and amaze the people of Watlington.”
“You will, Grendel. If you value Lady Alys’s well-being.”
“I have told you, my lord, I have no interest in what you do with Lady Alys, beyond a mild hope that she not suffer unduly,” he said in a bored voice. “And if you really intend me to do this, I suggest you ensure that she doesn’t escape while the villagers are distracted.”
“Very wise, Grendel.” He glanced toward an ill-dressed servant who was hovering nearby. “You there. See that Lady Alys is bound and gagged for our trip through the market town. And make certain the cage is securely locked.”
The servant nodded, bustling off toward the rolling prison, and Simon breathed a faint sigh of relief. Things were working well so far. He could only hope that Alys would recognize Sir Thomas’s blue eyes beneath the shabby disguise, of a servant and know that the binding would fall away with the right amount of effort.
Ah, but Lady Alys was observant and brave. She was the least and the greatest of his worries.
He turned to look at his liege lord, and his smile was wintry cold. “As my lord wishes,” he said.
Richard de Lancie laughed. “That’s my Grendel.” And he spurred his horse down the steep hill toward the bustling town of Watlington.
The stage was set. Thomas had done his work well - a word here, a word there, and the townspeople were prepared, agog at the notion of a real live wizard in their midst. Lord Richard of Summersedge wouldn’t lower himself to talk with the local peasantry; he would never hear that Simon of Navarre was the first magician ever to stop in their ratty little market town.
Braziers had been set at the four corners of the platform that had most recently held wrestling matches. The ropes had come down, and someone had managed to secure what doubtless passed for a decent chair here. At least they’d piled it with tattered velvet. Richard could watch the show in a manner befitting his station, on a makeshift throne.
They
