Timeline. Part 36

"A trifle, my Lord," the dancing master said hastily, his smile unwavering. "As your Lords.h.i.+p recalls, it is forward-back, forward-back, turn, back, and turn, back. We missed a turn."

"I missed no turn," Oliver said.

"In deed, my Lord, you did not," Sir Robert said at once. "It was a phrase in the music which caused the confusion." He glared at the boy playing the lute.

"Very well, then." Oliver resumed his position, held out his hand to the girl. "What is it then?" he said. "Forward-back, forward-back, turn, back...."

"Very good," the dancing master said, smiling and clapping the beat. "That's it, you have it now...."

From the door, a voice: "My Lord."

The music stopped. Lord Oliver turned irritably, saw Sir Guy with guards, surrounding the Professor and several others. "What is it now?"

"My Lord, it appears the Magister has companions."

"Eh? What companions?"

Lord Oliver came forward. He saw the Hainauter, the foolish Irisher who could not ride, and a young woman, short and defiant-looking. "What companions are these?"

"My Lord, they claim they are the Magister's a.s.sistants."

"a.s.sistants?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking at the group. "My dear Magister, when you said you had a.s.sistants, I did not realize they were here in the castle with you."

"I was not aware myself," the Professor said.

Lord Oliver snorted. "You cannot be a.s.sistants." He looked from one to the other. "You are too old by ten year. And you gave no sign you knew the Magister, earlier in the day.... You are not speaking sooth. None of you." He shook his head, turned to Sir Guy. "I do not believe them, and I will have the truth. But not now. Take them to the dungeon."

"My Lord, they were in the dungeon when they got free."

"They got free? How?" Immediately, he raised his hand to interrupt the reply. "What is our most secure place?"

Robert de Kere slipped forward and whispered.

"My tower chamber? Where I keep Mistress Alice?" Oliver began to laugh. "It is indeed secure. Yes, lock them there."

Sir Guy said, "I will see to it, my Lord."

"These 'a.s.sistants' will be surety to their master's good conduct." He smiled darkly. "I believe, Magister, you will yet learn to dance with me."

The three young people were dragged roughly away. Lord Oliver waved his hand, and the lutist and the dancing master departed with a silent bow. So did the women. Sir Robert lingered, but after a sharp glance from Oliver, he too left the room.

Now there were only servants, setting the tables. Otherwise, the room was silent.

"So, Magister, what game is this?"

"As G.o.d is my witness, they are my a.s.sistants, as I have told you from the start," the Professor said.

"a.s.sistants? One is a knight."

"He owes me a boon, and so he serves me."

"Oh? What boon?"

"I saved his father's life."

"In deed?" Oliver walked around the Professor. "Saved it how?"

"With medicines."

"From what did he suffer?"

The Professor touched his ear and said, "My Lord Oliver, if you wish to a.s.sure yourself, bring back the knight Marek at once, and he will say to you what I say now, that I saved his father, who was ill with dropsy, with the herb arnica, and that this happened in Hampstead, a hamlet near to London, in the autumn of the year past. Call him back and ask him."

Oliver paused.

He stared at the Professor.

The moment was broken by a man in a costume streaked with white powder, who said from a far door, "My Lord."

Oliver whirled. "What is it now?" "What is it now?"

"My Lord, a subtlety."

"A subtlety? Very well-but be quick."

"My Lord," the man said, bowing and simultaneously flicking his fingers. Two young boys raced forward with a tray on their shoulders.

"My Lord, the first subtlety-haslet."

The tray showed pale coils of intestines and an animal's large t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es and p.e.n.i.s. Oliver walked around the tray, peering closely.

"The innards of the boar, brought back from the hunt," he said, nodding. "Quite convincing." He turned to the Professor. "You approve the work of my kitchen?"

"I do, my Lord. Your subtlety is both traditional and well executed. The t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es are particularly well made."

"Thank you, sir," the chef said, bowing. "They are heated sugar and prunes, if it please. And the intestines are strung fruit covered with a batter of egg and ale, and then honey."

"Good, good," Oliver said. "You will serve this before the second course?"

"I will, Lord Oliver."

"And what of the other subtlety?"

"Marchepane, my Lord, colored with dandelion and saffron." The chef bowed and gestured, and more boys came running with another platter. This held an enormous model of the fortress of Castelgard, its battlements five feet high, all done in pale yellow, matching the actual stones. The confection was accurate down to small details, and included tiny flags from the sugary battlements.

"Elegant! Well done!" Oliver cried. He clapped his hands with pleasure, delighted as a young child for the moment. "I am most pleased." Well done!" Oliver cried. He clapped his hands with pleasure, delighted as a young child for the moment. "I am most pleased."

He turned to the Professor and gestured to the model. "You know the villain Arnaut lies fast upon our castle, and I must defend against him?"

Johnston nodded. "I do."

"How do you advise me to arrange my forces in Castelgard?"

"My Lord," Johnston said, "I would not defend Castelgard at all."

"Oh? Why say you that?" Oliver went to the nearest table, took a goblet, and poured wine.

"How many soldiers did you require to take it from the Gascons?" Johnston asked.

"Fifty or sixty, no more."

"Then you are answered."

"But we made no frontal attack. We used stealth. Craft."

"And the Archpriest will not?"

"He may try, but we shall be waiting. We shall be prepared for his attack."

"Perhaps," Johnston said, turning. "And perhaps not."

"So you are are a cunning-man...." a cunning-man...."

"No, my Lord: I do not see the future. I have no such abilities at all. I merely give you my advice as a man. And I say, the Archpriest will be no less stealthy than you."

Oliver frowned, drank in sullen silence for a while. Then he seemed to notice the chef, the boys holding the tray, all of them standing silent, and waved them away. As they departed, he said, "Take good care of that subtlety! I wish nothing to happen to it before the guests see it." In a few moments, they were alone again. He turned to Johnston, gestured to the tapestries. "Or to this castle."

"My Lord," Johnston said, "you have no need to defend this castle when you have another so much better."

"Eh? You speak of La Roque? But La Roque has a weakness. There is a pa.s.sage that I cannot find."

"And how do you know the pa.s.sage exists?"

"It must exist," Oliver said, "because old Laon was architect of La Roque. You know of Laon? No? He was the Abbot of the monastery before the present Abbot. That old bishop was crafty, and whenever he was called upon to give a.s.sistance rebuilding a town, or a castle, or a church, he left behind some secret known only to him. Every castle had an unknown pa.s.sage, or an unknown weakness, which Laon could sell to an attacker, if need arose. Old Laon had a sharp eye for the interest of Mother Church-and a much sharper eye for himself."

"And yet," Johnston said, "if no one knows where this pa.s.sage is, it might as well not exist. There are other considerations, my Lord. What is your present complement of soldiers here?"

"Two hundred and twenty men-at-arms, two hundred fifty bowsmen, and two hundred pikemen."

"Arnaut has twice as many," Johnston said. "Perhaps more."

"Think you so?"

"In deed he is no better than a common thief, but now he is a famous thief, for marching on Avignon, requiring the Pontiff to dine with his men and then pay ten thousand livres to leave the town intact."

"Sooth?" Lord Oliver said, looking troubled. "I have not heard of this. Of course there are rumors that Arnaut intends intends to march on Avignon, perhaps as soon as next month. And all presume he will threaten the Pope. But he has not done so yet." He frowned. "Has he?" to march on Avignon, perhaps as soon as next month. And all presume he will threaten the Pope. But he has not done so yet." He frowned. "Has he?"

"You speak truth, my Lord," the Professor said promptly. "I meant to say that the daring of his intended plans draws new soldiers to his side every day. By now, he has a thousand in his company. Perhaps two thousand."

Oliver snorted. "I am not afraid."

"I am sure you are not," Johnston said, "but this castle has a shallow moat; a single drawbridge; a single gateway arch, no deadfall, and a single portcullis. Your ramparts to the east are low. You have s.p.a.ce to store food and water for only a few days. Your garrison is cramped in the small courtyards, and your men not easily maneuverable."

Oliver said, "I tell you, my treasure is here, and I shall remain here with it."

"And my advice," Johnston said, "is to gather what you can and depart. La Roque is built on a cliff, with sheer rock on two sides. It has a deep moat on the third side, two gateway doors, two portculli, two drawbridges. Even if invaders manage to pa.s.s the outer gateway-"

"I know the virtues of La Roque!"

Johnston paused.

"And I do not wish to hear your d.a.m.nable instruction!"

"As you will, Lord Oliver." And then Johnston said, "Ah."

"Ah? Ah? Ah?"

"My Lord," Johnston said, "I cannot counsel if you circ.u.mstance to me."

"Circ.u.mstance? I do not circ.u.mstance, Magister. I speak plainly, holding nothing back."

"How many men have you garrisoned at La Roque?"

Oliver squirmed uncomfortably. "Three hundred."

"So. Your treasure is already at La Roque."

Lord Oliver squinted. He said nothing. He turned, walked around Johnston, squinted again. Finally: "You are pressing me to go there by provoking my fears."

"I am not."

"You want me to move to La Roque because you know that castle has a weakness. You are the creature of Arnaut and you prepare the way for his a.s.sault."

"My Lord," Johnston said, "if La Roque is inferior, as you say, why have you placed your treasure there?"

Oliver snorted, again unhappy. "You are clever with words."

"My Lord, your own actions tell you which castle is superior."

"Very well. But Magister, if I go to La Roque, you go with me. And if another finds that secret entrance before you have told me of it, I will myself see that you die in a way that will make Edward's end"-he cackled at his pun-"appear a kindness."

"I take your meaning," Johnston said.

"Do you? Then see you take it to heart."

Chris Hughes stared out the window.