“Get him first,” Harding said drily. “Then you can show us how inventive you are.”
They were talking about the Sergeant in charge of the East Gate who, it was well nigh certain, had let the Romsey army in. He was a man called Gray who, people now remembered, had fought well against Alton and Petersfield. He had been rewarded with gold but had not thought the reward enough. He had hoped to be ennobled, having an ambitious wife. But ennoblements were rare, however good the fighting, and his wife was disliked and despised by the city’s Ladies.
“Robert should not have trusted him with command of a gate,” Blaine said. “He should have been out in the field with us.”
Greene said: “His wife is with child and the last she had was polymuf. She expects to bear within a month. That was why he asked leave to stay behind, and was granted it. It could not be known that he was treacherous.”
“A Prince should know these things,” Blaine said, “or guard against them.”
“If he was at fault,” Harding said, “he was the first to pay for it.”
We were at our camp, in the conference tent. It was a cold morning and rain had begun to fall, rattling harshly against the canvas. I stood in a corner, unregarded. My skin was clammy with a cold sweat, my mind turned in useless narrow circles, fastening again and again on the sight which, above all, I would have shut out forever from my mind. But it would not be dismissed; the harder I tried the faster and more vividly it winged back.
Greene said: “Being deceived by Jeremy was the greater error. But, by the Great, what a fox he is! Promising Robert that he would give him Andover and using that same trick to take Winchester . . . I would not have thought, with his scents and silks, that he had the guts to try it.”
Blaine said bitterly: “That’s what comes of making a man like that our Prince. You need breeding to be a judge of character.”
“Would you have judged Jeremy better?”
“I never liked him.”
“Nor did Robert,” Greene said. “A Prince does not have to like his allies. And the Spirits favored the scheme.”
“Curse the Spirits!” Blaine burst out. “I would have liked to see Ezzard’s head beside his on the gate. They have betrayed us worse than Jeremy.”
There was a silence. After a moment, Blaine blustered on:
“There are Spirits and Spirits. Remember what Marinet used to say?” He had been Seer before Ezzard, and better liked, though Ezzard had been more feared. “There are Spirits whose delight is to lead men into mischief, which the Great One permits as a means of testing, and of humbling those who puff themselves up beyond their merits. They start with gifts and promises but they end with destruction. Was it not those Spirits who led our ancestors blindfolded to the Disaster? And have they not done the same with Robert? Can anyone deny it?”
Harding said: “It may be.” He was a small, wiry, sharp man, who talked less than Blaine but could usually silence him. “Perhaps we shall have leisure to talk of it during the long winter evenings. But there are more pressing needs. Jeremy has our city. We must decide what we should do.”
“He has ours but his own is ill guarded.” It was Charles who spoke, the brother of Edmund, son of Prince Stephen. “If we rode hard for Romsey we might take it and have something to bargain with. His bowmen are here.”
Greene said: “Not all his bowmen, I’ll wager. If he is fox enough to plan this he will have made his defenses sure at home.”
“We could try at least.”
There was no enthusiasm for the suggestion. An army whose own city was in enemy hands attacking a stronghold . . . it was not a picture to inspire much hope. A Captain called Ripon said:
“Well enough for you. But we have womenfolk at hostage.”
“I also,” Charles said. “My mother and my sister.”
“Mothers and sisters!” Ripon said. “We have wives and daughters.”
During Blaine’s abuse of my father, the cold shock which had stunned me had been giving way to anger. It was against Blaine in the first place, but I knew he was not worth it. It was Jeremy who had tricked my father and slaughtered him while a guest in his tent.
I said: “Why do we wait?”
Their eyes turned to me. Blaine said, sneering:
“The brat has counsel for us. Speak up, then, you that were to be Prince of Princes. What would you have us do?”
“Not stand here talking!” I saw my father’s head again with the Romsey flag slow-flapping over it and the memory maddened me. “We should attack the walls at once and force them! We should have done so right away instead of letting two or three arrows drive us back.”
Blaine laughed. “Attack the walls . . . he’s a merry youngster! Those walls which Stephen built up year after year till they were the highest and strongest in the land. Go and do it yourself, lad—you need no help from us. The Spirits will give you wings or maybe tumble the walls down for you. If you don’t know how to summon them, go to the head that sits on the East Gate and ask him to do it for you.”
I went at him blindly. He smiled and cuffed me, knocking me to the ground. He had great strength and all of it was in the blow: his anger drove him, too. Dazed, I heard Harding say:
“We waste our time discussing fantasies. It makes no sense to do anything until we have heard from Jeremy. I do not think he will keep us waiting long.”
• • •
The herald came an hour later, alone and unarmed, riding a black horse with the white cloth of truce trailing soaked, from its reins. He was brought to the conference tent and stood there, wiping rain from his face with his sleeve.
His name was Grant and he was the best liked of the Captains who had accompanied Jeremy when he came to the Christmas Feast. He had seemed a decent and sensible man, level-eyed and level-headed. He did not look as though he enjoyed his errand. Harding said:
“Greetings, Captain. You will not expect much by way of welcome, seeing what brings you here. Do you have a message from your master?”
“Yes,” Grant said, “I have a message. He bids you return in peace to your city and your homes.”
Harding had been nominated to speak for the rest. He said: “On what conditions?”
“Sergeants and men will be admitted twenty at a time, and unarmed. They will be imprisoned under guard, but only until the peace settlement has been made. Captains may keep their swords.”
“Why? To save our honor?” Grant nodded. “Is there any honor left after treachery such as yours?”
“It is not treachery to forestall treachery. By taking your city our Prince only defended his own.”
“Do you say that we are weasels like you—that we planned to attack Romsey, not Andover? If so, every man here knows you lie, and knows therefore what trust to put in any new promises fat Jeremy makes.”
“Not this year, maybe, but our Prince is far-sighted. Robert took Petersfield last summer and, against all the customs of war, kept it. He was to rule over Andover as well. Where would this have stopped? Was it not said that his son was to be Prince of Princes, ruler of every city in the land? Would Romsey, lying so close to Winchester, have been allowed to escape? Had you been Captains of Romsey you would have had good cause to fear the future. Can any man here deny it?”
Harding said: “And therefore we are to accept the rule of your Prince instead, and of that whining, sniggering son of his after?”
“No. Our Prince restores the ancient customs. There will be tribute, of course, but you may keep your city, choosing a proper Prince to rule it. Petersfield, too, will be free. The Prince of Romsey does not wish to govern lands outside his own.”
Harding did not reply at once. I looked at the faces of the other Captains and found them thoughtful.