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roared. ‘This is my castle!’
    No one moved.
    ‘You!’ the count pointed at Luc. ‘Get rid of them!
    Luc did try to shepherd Roland, Father Marchant and the other knights of the Order of the Fisherman from the hall, but Roland stayed firm. ‘She is my hostage,’ he said again.
    ‘Let’s fight for the bint,’ Sculley said cheerfully.
    ‘Quiet,’ Robbie hissed. Robbie was aware of all the old turmoil that he thought had been calmed by the Order of the Fisherman. He knew Genevieve, he had been in love with her since the day he had first seen her in the cells at Castillon d’Arbizon. That unrequited love had broken his friendship with Thomas, it had led to the breaking of oaths, to his arguments with the Lord of Douglas, and had only ended, Robbie had thought, with the sacred duty of the Order of the Fisherman. Now he saw Roland put a hand on the hilt of his sword, and he dreaded the choice that must follow. Genevieve was staring up at him, surprise and appeal in her hurt eyes.
    The count saw Roland’s hand go to Durandal’s sword hilt and, foolishly, he reached for his own blade. Father Marchant held up both hands. ‘In the name of God!’ he shouted, and snatched at Roland’s arm. ‘In the name of God!’ he said again, and held a cautionary hand towards the count. ‘My lord,’ he said in a reasonable voice, ‘you are right. This is your castle. What happens in these walls is by your command, by your privilege, and we cannot prevent it. But, my lord,’ and here Father Marchant bowed low to the count, ‘this woman must talk to us. His Holiness the Pope demands it, the King of France demands it, and, my lord, His Holiness and His Majesty will be grateful to you if you will allow me, your most humble servant,’ and here he bowed again to Labrouillade, ‘to question this wretched woman.’
    Father Marchant had invented the interest of the Pope and the king, but it was an inspired invention, sufficient to cool Labrouillade’s fury. ‘I am right?’ the count demanded.
    ‘Entirely, and if any of us has impeded you, my lord, if any of us has challenged your undoubted authority, then you have our humblest apology.’
    ‘But the Pope and the king have an interest here?’
    ‘Astonishing though that may seem, my lord, yes. It is why I am here, sent by Cardinal Bessières. My lord, if you would earn a reputation as a man who has fought valiantly for the kingdom of heaven here upon earth then I would beg you to allow me some time with this creature.’
    ‘And when you’re done with her?’
    ‘As I said, my lord, this is your castle.’
    ‘And your men would do well to remember that,’ the count snarled.
    ‘Indeed, my lord.’
    ‘Then take her,’ the count said magnanimously.
    ‘The church will be for ever in your debt, my lord,’ Father Marchant said, and beckoned to Sculley and Robbie to take Genevieve out. He pointed at Hugh. ‘Take him too.’
    And Robbie breathed a sigh of relief.
     
    Thomas knelt at the wood’s edge. ‘What did he say?’ he asked for the tenth time.
    ‘To go back at first light.’ Keane said.
    And between now, the night’s heart, and first light, what would happen to Genevieve? This was the question that tortured Thomas, and to which imagination provided a foul answer, and for which intelligence offered no solution. He could not rescue her. He could not cross a moat, climb a wall, and fight his way inside. For that he would need an army and time. ‘You should get some sleep,’ he said to his men, and that was true, but the archers had chosen to keep their vigil with Thomas. None wanted to sleep. ‘How many men inside?’ Thomas wondered aloud.
    ‘The bastard had about a hundred men when we fought at Villon,’ Sam offered.
    ‘They can’t all be inside,’ Thomas said, though that was hope speaking.
    ‘It’s a big enough place,’ Keane said.
    ‘And we have thirty-four archers here,’ Thomas said.
    ‘And we have men-at-arms,’ Karyl added.
    ‘He had about forty crossbows,’ Sam said, ‘maybe more?’
    ‘He didn’t say he’d exchange her?’ Thomas asked, for the tenth time.
    ‘He just said to come back,’ Keane said. ‘I’d have asked the fellow a few questions if I could, but they dropped a hint with a crossbow that Father Levonne and I weren’t exactly welcome.’
    If Genevieve was hurt, Thomas thought, he would forget
la Malice
, he would forget the Prince of Wales, he would forget everything until he had tied the Count of Labrouillade