Gabriel shook his head. “I’m not sure this is a matter where a high score indicates victory, but very well. Your advice is?”
“This castle is full of lasses who would jump in the blankets with ye for a song. For a look and a smile. The bronze-eyed vixen as waits on your lady mother…”
“Your advice is that I can win the love of a nun by fornicating with my mother’s maid?” Gabriel asked.
Tom smiled lazily. “Aye. That sums it up nicely.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I need to talk to my mother. I’m just avoiding my duty.” He got up. “Thanks for the fight. I’m sorry I cheated. I’m angry.”
“Oh, aye,” Tom said. “I’d never hae guessed.” He put an arm around the younger man. “Best rid yourself o’it.”
“Of what?” Gabriel asked.
“Father Arnaud’s death,” Tom said. “He’s dead. He died well. All glory to him. And you know what’s wrong wi’ you? You want to be God. You want to hae saved him. An’ you did not. He died.”
Gabriel sighed.
“Let him go. And while yer at it, stop trying to be God.” Tom smiled. “I confess ye do it better than many. But Arnaud went his own road. He’s gone.” Very softly, he said, “You want me to find you a willing lass?”
Gabriel laughed. He wheezed a little, and finally rose to his feet. “Is that your cure for everything?” he asked.
Tom nodded. “Pretty much. Sometimes…” He shook his head. “Sometimes ale helps. But not as much as a wench who wants ye.”
Gabriel got a step away when Tom rose. Gabriel turned.
“I read your plan,” Tom said.
“And?” Gabriel asked.
“I’m in. I don’t think I want to be Drover, anyway. I think that should be for Ranald.” He nodded. “I’ll sell the herd in Harndon. And then I want my job back. Do I need to kill Bescanon?”
Gabriel smiled. “No,” he said. “No, but Tom, sometimes I find it awfully refreshing to see the world from your eyes.”
“Aye,” Tom said. He grinned. “I like to keep things simple.”
He found his mother in her solar. She made him wait again, but she was alone.
“The nun won’t have you,” his mother said. “And you’ve ruined my lute. It was tuned to a casting pattern and now it is banal.”
Gabriel smiled and kissed his mother on the cheek. “The sele of the day to you, too, Mother.”
The bronze-eyed maid came in with wine and curtsied. Gabriel watched her with an appreciation whetted by Tom’s comments. She was remarkable. Gabriel had a suspicion that she had been prepared for him.
She blushed when her lowered eyes happened to intersect with Ser Gabriel’s.
“She won’t give up her vows. She’s after Sophie’s title.” Ghause laughed.
“What, to be the king’s mistress?” Gabriel asked. “I’m surprised. She’s never mentioned it.”
Ghause glared at her son, her eyes slightly mad, like the griffon’s. “She intends to be Abbess.”
“She told you this?” Gabriel asked. He was fascinated-mostly because his theory that Amicia was working with his mother was being shredded. By his mother. She could be a fine actress, but he didn’t think she could pull this off.
“Not in so many words,” his mother said, pouting.
Gabriel sat back. “You mean, Mother, that if you were in Amicia’s place, the only reason you would stay out of my bed would be to acquire more power.”
Ghause snarled, but her snarl became a laugh. “Fair eno’, my son. Now-you never came here of your own will.”
Gabriel nodded. “I want you to agree to the alliance-as vassals of the king.”
Ghause swore and stood. “Christ’s bloody crown of thorns, boy. I will not be my brother’s vassal for anything.”
“Even if doing so would avert civil war?” Gabriel asked.
“Better and better,” Ghause said. “Let him rot. Let him die.”
Gabriel sat back and crossed his legs. “I told him,” he said simply.
Ghause paused. She looked at her son for a long time, and then said slowly, “You told him-what?”
“I told him that I was your son. By him.” He put his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling.
Ghause rose slowly. “You what?”
Gabriel sighed. “I told him. I felt he needed to know.”
Ghause’s mouth moved, but no words came out.
Gabriel watched her. “I could go to court and present myself as the king’s bastard by his sister,” he said. “I suspect that would have an effect. I might even prevent the civil war. Perhaps he’d make me his heir!”
“You wouldn’t dare! I don’t want anything given by that bastard! I want him brought low!” Ghause was on her feet, her voice rising.
“You know, Mother, those may be things you want, but they are not things I want. If you want to destroy the king, you need to affect that on your own. I will not be your tool. And in the meantime, if you would like to please me, sign this agreement as the king’s vassal. In my turn, I’ll promise you-and your mate-my support as Duke of Thrake.”
Ghause pursed her lips. “No. I don’t give a fuck if you want to lie naked at his feet. Go-lick his arse for all I care.” She put a hand on the treaty, written out fine. “I will sign it, though. I’ll be a lickspittle and sign it as a vassal. I can repudiate it any time I like. Only make me one promise, and I’ll comply.”
Gabriel braced himself. “Does it involve murder?”
“No, marriage.” She sat again. “Marry the girl of my choice. I promise she’ll be handsome and have a good dowry and power. Give your word to marry her at my whim and I’ll sign your paper.”
Gabriel drew breath.
Ghause leaned towards him. “Forget your little nun. Or tumble her to your heart’s content when you’ve got your bride in kindle. I admit, for all her low birth, I like the nun. I think I could fancy her for myself.” She licked her lips. “What was wrong with the princess Irene?”
“You are the second person to ask me that today,” Gabriel said, a little wildly.
“Well?” his mother insisted.
“She tried to kill her father?” Gabriel said. “She poisons people?”
Ghause shrugged.
Gabriel sat back and laughed. “I confess, you’d like her, and you two would have so much to talk about over your sewing.”
Ghause met his eye. “You think I’m crude and vicious,” she said. “But yon princess is what she is. She is what her court has made her, and if you were a good knight and a good husband, she’d ha’ no need to poison you, would she?”
Gabriel put his face in his hands. “Is that the measure of wedded bliss?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” Ghause said. “I’ve been with the Earl of Westwall for twenty years and more. And we ha’ not killed each other.” She snapped her fingers, and her maid returned and poured more wine. “Did the princess offer?”
Gabriel thought a moment. “No. Although I suspect that she will be offered-by her father. Soon.”
Ghause smiled. “And you have not said no?”
Gabriel thought again. “No.”
Ghause nodded. “You could be Emperor,” she said.
Gabriel nodded. “Yes. But no. The Empire does not transfer power by blood, and when the Emperor dies. Has it occurred to you that I don’t share your ambitions?”
She ignored him. “I’ll sign your paper, and you’ll take the bride I assign you. And no quibbles-I know you.”
Gabriel stood. “I’m tempted just to lie and agree. I think maybe I could save hundreds of lives by agreement. But you know, Mother, tonight I’m at my limit of being used by the powers of the world. So-no.” He picked up the parchment. “Won’t you just sign because you are the king’s vassal?”
She frowned. “It is nothing to you that he forced me-a chit of a girl, his own sister?”
Gabriel nodded. “Yes, Mother. For all that stands between us, I agree. I hate him, I think he’s false as a caitiff and that everything he’s ever done is poisoned by what he did to you.” He shrugged. “But-if all of us cling to our hates, we’ll never move forward. If that fool de Vrailly marches north this summer…”