The Splendid Hour by Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER TWO

“Imust pick them off one at a time.”

The words came from John, spoken in a hissing tone that had weight and petulance behind it. The Marshal found himself facing a monarch he’d once called a necessary evil, a man he shared his own tempestuous history with. He continued to stand by the door of Daveigh’s small solar, perhaps to be able to rush out should he need to. Being shut up in a chamber with the king was not something he was comfortable with.

“Pick them off?” he repeated. “I do not understand.”

John threw up his hands. “Like a hunter selects his prey,” he said. “It is like shooting boar – in a group, they are strong, but if you weaken that group one at a time, it will eventually scatter.”

“And you compare your warlords to boar?”

John sighed sharply. “I have done everything they’ve asked of me,” he said. “I was coerced into signing that document at Runnymede, but I have no intention of honoring it.”

“They know that.”

“The Holy Father himself says that it is illegal and immoral for them to do such a thing.”

“They did it because you govern England like a fat man governs a feast,” William said. “You pick and choose your favorites, throw away those who displease you, and turn the dogs loose on others. Your Grace, I have lived through three kings. Though you are the rightful king, your methods could be better. Those men out there had no choice.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You dare to insult me?” he spat. “Careful, Pembroke – you are only here by my good graces. I do not need you.”

“Aye, you do,” William said, refusing to be intimidated by a spoiled man he hated to his bones. “If you did not need me, I would not be here. You want me to control the warlords. De Lohr, Burton, de Royans, and de Velt. All of them. That is the only reason you have brought me here – to control them. To bring them onto your side. I am the most valuable man in your kingdom at the moment, so let us dispense with the threats. You brought me in here for a reason. What is it?”

John postured angrily for a few moments longer, but the truth was that William was right. He had brought him into the chamber for a reason. But he wasn’t ready to give in so quickly. He didn’t like the feeling that The Marshal was one step ahead of him, though it had always been true. Throughout their decades-long history, William Marshal had almost always been at least one step ahead.

But not this time.

To get what he wanted, John was prepared to bargain.

“It seems that the threat of excommunication did nothing,” he said. “Are they really so arrogant in the face of God?”

The Marshal shrugged. “Not in the face of God,” he said. “They are pious men. They are fair men. But you do not seem to like that they are fair and pious.”

“Why do you say such things?”

“If you did not treat them so poorly, you would not have this problem,” he said, growing bolder. “Your Grace, I have fought since the time of your father. I was his favorite knight and you are well aware. You have abused me, cast me aside, called me back, and now I stand in a chamber with you while you clearly have something more you wish to say to me. I have always been your servant, but not your trained dog, as de Lohr called des Roches. I will do all I can to further England’s cause, but I will not do it at the cost of those good men out there. Yet here I am, on your side, because you are the king. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?”

John was somewhat taken aback by that speech. He couldn’t decide if he was enraged or in agreement. Indecisive, he backed off, finding a cushioned chair to sit in as he pondered his next move. Finally, he looked at William.

“Giles de Broase and Walter de Lacy have angered me for the last time,” he said. “They have both escaped to Ireland, leaving a good portion of the Welsh Marches in my hands. Ludlow Castle in particular. Hugh de Mortimer has been discovered to have been expanding his castle without my permission and as of last month, I have sent his neighbor, Fitz Walter, to claim it. It is now mine.”

The de Lacy and de Broase news wasn’t of any great surprise to William, whose own lordship was in Pembroke, Wales, but the comment on Hugh de Mortimer had him listening carefully.

“Ludlow and Wigmore are under Crown control?” he asked.

John nodded. “Aye,” he said. “So are Knighton and Risbury Castles. De Lohr should know some, if not all of this, especially about Ludlow that has been in my hands for a while now.”

“And why do you tell me this?”

John leaned back in the chair, his dark eyes fixed on William. “Because you will go to de Lohr with a proposal,” he said. “You will offer him Ludlow and Wigmore in exchange for his support.”

The Marshal had a feeling this proposal was coming and he was prepared. “He will never give you his support for those properties.”

“I will add Risbury and Knighton.”

“Never.”

“Then I will give all four of them to des Roches and he will bring his French allies to the Marches,” John said flatly. “How will de Lohr like it when the Marches are overrun with French warlords?”

It was a brilliant, nasty move. The Marshal could see that and he had to admit that he was impressed by it. But it was incredibly dastardly, as befitting John. He knew better than almost anyone how to make deals and how to coerce men into his bidding but, in this case, it wasn’t going to work.

It was going to end him.

The Marshal took a long, deep breath.

“Then I hope you are prepared for war,” he said quietly. “De Lohr will not take that and well you know it. He’ll bring his allies in and they will erase des Roches and whoever he happens to bring into those properties, and then he will send you their heads. I suspect he will also ally with the Welsh warlords and then you will have a massive war on your hands. If you think to keep the Marches with this proposition, it will be your undoing, Your Grace. De Lohr, his allies, and the Welsh will not stand for it.”

“And you?”

“I will not stand for it, either.”

That forced John to rethink his strategy, which he was loath to do. He wasn’t a man who liked to be forced into anything, but he knew he’d pushed. Perhaps a little too far.

But it was still salvageable.

“Then do this,” he said. “Tell de Lohr I will give him all four castles if he, and the other rebels, will pull out of London. I speak not of excommunication or the illegalities of the Great Charter – but I want the rebels out of London. If he will do this, I will give him the Marcher castles.”

That was a little more reasonable, but still possibly difficult. Christopher was a leader of the rebels, but he didn’t make unilateral decisions. There were others involved.

“The castles for London?” William repeated, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “It is possible he will accept that,” he said. “But you have the papal legate here threatening to excommunicate these men if they do not declare the charter you signed as invalid. That is not going to simply go away, Your Grace. What will you do about that?”

John held up a finger. “One step at a time,” he said. “Get de Lohr to agree to pull the rebels out of London and I will give him those properties.”

“The other rebel leaders will want concessions, too. You cannot gift de Lohr and not expect the others to obey when there is nothing in it for them.”

He had a point.

John frowned.

“Then I will prepare a list of gifts for the leaders of this… this travesty,” he said with disgust. “I will promise them all something in exchange for removing their armies from London. Properties in Ireland, in Wales… I will make it worth their while. Will you tell de Lohr?”

William wasn’t keen on any of this, but he, more than anyone alive, knew how politics worked. Bargains, bribes, and promises… nations were made in such a way.

So was peace.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “I will tell him. But I suggest you remove des Roches and your guard before there is another flare up between David de Lohr and someone who looks at him in a manner he does not like. Heads will be rolling before we can blink an eye.”

John stood up from his chair, smiling at The Marshal. “My true and faithful friend,” he said. But it was all for show. He didn’t mean it. “I knew you would see the reason in all of this. But just so you are aware, de Winter his hosting a feast tonight and I have been invited, as a guest of honor. Truth be told, I invited myself so he could not deny me, but tell de Lohr and the others that I should like them to attend as well. Mayhap we will be able to speak further under more pleasant surroundings.”

The Marshal looked queerly at him. “You are inviting your enemies to sup with you?” he said. “Your Grace, that cannot end well.”

John shrugged. “It will because you will tell them they must come,” he said. “You will tell de Lohr of my proposal and he may come and discuss it with me. I am not unreasonable, Pembroke. They will see that.”

It was untrue. So much of that was untrue. Even as John spoke of peace, he had French mercenaries preparing to sail for England. Some already had. When he spoke of des Roches bringing French warlords to the Marches, he wasn’t joking. He meant it. While he pretended to want peace with his warlords, his actions spoke of another wish altogether. He didn’t want peace – he wanted surrender.

And The Marshal knew it.

Still, he didn’t contradict him. He simply nodded and John snorted in a way that suggested he felt that he had gained the upper hand. He proceeded to follow the king into the hall where all of the warlords were missing, but he knew they hadn’t run off. They had simply left the chamber when the king had, which was wise. Without The Marshal or the king’s presence, tensions would flare if someone said the wrong thing.

As John instructed his guard to depart, The Marshal looked to Daveigh and Bric to discover where the warlords had gone to. It was Bric who took the lead, silently beckoning the man to follow him. But along with The Marshal, Daveigh and Cullen de Nerra came, too. They had all been part of The Marshal’s spy ring and in a normal world, they still were. When The Marshal saw that he was being followed, he wasn’t troubled. He let them.

Better they hear John’s proposals from his own lips.

It was something that would affect them all.