Smith let out a sigh. ‘Why not?’
Edward looked at Master Pyle very hard, willing him to turn his head.
‘I have more orders than I can manage, and this is very untested.’ Master Pyle shrugged. ‘It would take months, perhaps years, to perfect.’ Smith shrugged. ‘So?’
Edward was all but hopping up and down. Master Pyle turned his head and glared at him. But it wasn’t his hard glare.
‘This is my journeyman, Edward. He made both of the test devices. He’s very competent, and perhaps he’d be willing to do the work for you.’ Master Pyle looked at Edward. ‘Want to try, Edward? Your own commission?’
Edward beamed.
The odd, dark-eyed man rocked his head again. ‘Excellent, then.’ He put two sheets of vellum down on the shop counter. ‘Have a look at these, and see what you think,’ he said. ‘Tube, stock, powder, and match. I want you to make them all.’
‘Just one?’ Edward asked. ‘Delivered where?’
‘Oh, as to that, I’ll send you my directions. It is for some friends.’ He laughed. ‘Just one, and then you destroy all your notes. Or I will find you. Understand?’
Edward looked at the man. He didn’t seem very dangerous. And yet, he did. And just for a moment, he seemed to have scales on the backs of his hands.
‘How much?’ Edward asked carefully. ‘Do I get paid?’
‘Absolutely,’ the strange man said. ‘Fifty gold nobles in advance. Fifty more on completion.’
Edward had to struggle to breathe.
Master Pyle shook his head. ‘I’ll get a notary.’
Harndon Palace – The King
Just above them, in the great fortress of Harndon, Master Pyle’s friend the king lay with his wife. He had two new scars on his heavily muscled thighs. She had one on her back.
Neither found the other a whit less fascinating.
When the king had done his thorough worship of her, he licked her leg and bit her gently and rose. ‘Men will mock me,’ he said. ‘A king who loves only his wife.’
She laughed. Stretched like a cat, fists clenched and turned inward to the best advantage of her breasts and back. ‘I,’ she purred, ‘beg leave to doubt your Majesty.’
He laughed and threw himself back down by her like a much younger man. ‘I love you,’ he said.
She rolled atop him and kissed him. ‘And I you, my lord.’
They lay for a while in companionable silence, until royal squires in the hall started to make noises that indicated that they had royal work to do.
‘I have set the date for your tournament at Lorica,’ the king said. He knew how much she wanted it. ‘It will help – after the battle. After Pentecost next.’
She took in a deep breath, also to her advantage, and clapped her hands together.
‘And I ordered Master Pyle to build two of your military carts with the Wagoner’s Guild,’ he said. ‘To test the concept. I’ll show them at the tournament. Ask men with retinues to build to the pattern.’ He shrugged. ‘It will be a start.’
‘And the Red Knight?’ she said.
He reacted as if he’d been stung.
She shook her head. ‘His company had standard wagons, built to the purpose in Galle.’ She dimpled. ‘So I didn’t invent the idea, apparently.’
He shook his head. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
She shrugged, again to her advantage.
‘If you don’t get dressed, the new ambassador from the Emperor will find me a
‘I’ve taken the liberty of inviting him to the tournament,’ the Queen said. She watched the king like a hawk.
He didn’t flinch.
‘Ah,’ he said.
Morea – The Red Knight
The camp was snug on the late summer evening. And the return had been enough like a homecoming to make him cry. He smiled a great deal, and rode through the camp.
Gelfred was sitting on a wagon, feeding-
‘Goodness gracious, Gelfred! Do we have Parcival?’ The captain slid down from his riding horse and shocked his hunt master with an embrace.
The eagle bated and said
Gelfred nodded. ‘Wonderful bird.’ He looked around. ‘Not quite right, of course. Neither you, nor, pardon me, the Abbess is a king. Or queen.’ He grimaced.
The captain gave him a quick nod. ‘We’ll ask the Emperor for a special chrysobull, shall we?’ he laughed. ‘Although, to be honest, I’m pretty sure the Abbess almost was the Queen.’
Gelfred looked shocked.
Ser Alcaeus nodded. ‘I suspected the same.’
Ser Gawin looked at the captain. ‘I’ll be the slow brother. What are we talking about?’
In the captain’s head, Harmodius laughed. A nasty, gossipy laugh.
‘The old king’s mistress, Gelfred. That’s what men called her. Sophia Rae. To whom Hawthor the Great offered marriage after the Battle of Chevin, and was refused.’ The captain smiled. ‘Imagine having been Hawthor’s lover and Richard Plangere’s
The bird’s eyes were fathomless and gold, with a black centre.
‘I’ve heard of them living fifty years,’ said Gelfred.
The bird’s grumpy eyes locked with the captain’s.
‘I see,’ he said.
Mag sat with Johne the Bailli in the last of the light. He had camp stools – comfortable enough, but backless, and she wasn’t getting any younger. He was watching the stars.
‘I see a lot of unfamiliar faces,’ she said, watching two men-at-arms go by. They paused in the light of Johne’s lanterns, gave her an appraising look, and bowed.
‘We did some recruiting,’ he admitted. He ran a hand down her back. Turned his head, and smiled. ‘All right, they all but attacked us. As soon as we made camp – every younger son in the North Country. Some Moreans, too. By the Saviour I would expect we have a hundred lances.’
She sighed. ‘So many,’ she said.
He sat back. ‘Won’t he be pleased? The young captain?’
She leaned over and kissed him gently. ‘I’m a sinful old woman, and I don’t need to be seduced, if that’s what your hand is supposed to be doing.’
He stiffened, but then grinned. ‘My lady, I am out of practice.’
They didn’t talk much, for a moment.
‘Am I clumsy?’ he murmured.
‘No,’ she said. She was thinking of blowing out the lanterns and lying on the carpet shamelessly. ‘No,’ she said.
‘What then?’ he asked.
She made a dismissive gesture and went to blow out the candles.
‘You can tell me,’ he said.
