Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,123

the King to see reason."

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"It is the King s last chance, surely?" said de Clare. "We have offered all we can give, if he will only acknowledge that we have a right to advise him on matters of governance, and to be involved in decisions. The Provisions of Oxford are clear and have already been agreed. Why does he insist on ignoring them?"

"He believes he is right," said de Montfort.

"But we know he wrong!" protested de Clare, but still taking the quill and scribbling his name. He took the lighted taper that a hovering clerk handed to him, and held it under the sealing wax, as until it dripped on to the parchment. Removing his ring, he pressed it firmly into the wax, imprinting his arms into it. He watched as de Montfort did the same.

"Who will we send with this message?" he said.

"Two of our Bishops will go," said de Montfort, having already decided during the night. "Walter de Cantelupe and Richard de Sandwich, with a sufficient number of men to ensure their safety, will take the message. They should be safe enough, visiting the Priory, since they are also men of the Church."

"Do they know that they are to undertake this deed?" said de Clare, interestedly.

"Yes," said de Montfort, shortly. "They were asked if they would do so as soon as we stopped here last night."

De Clare said nothing. He could imagine what form the request had taken. Earl Simon was someone who could not be refused, especially in this situation. He bore the burden of leader in the fight with the King, and all who accepted him as leader must also be prepared to carry out whatever tasks he set them. Even their Lordships the Bishops of Worcester and London, it seemed.

There was a step outside the tent, and the flap was pulled back slightly, to allow Monchesny s head to appear.

"My lords," he said, courteously. "Their Lordships are ready for their journey."

De Montfort rose, and took the parchment from the clerk, who had rolled it and tied it.

Together with de Clare, and followed by Monchesny, he left the tent and walked across to where the two men sat on their horses. At a discreet distance stood a group of four other horsemen, the guard that de Montfort had mentioned. The two bishops had dressed in fine cloaks, and both wore large pectoral crosses outside their garments, to show that they were men of peace. Their guard, while not heavily armed, had daggers and one of them carried a short staff. They had no need to carry any arms themselves, and would not wish to do so, in any case.

De Montfort handed the scrip containing the rolled parchment to Richard de Sandwich, then went and stood in front of them both, placing a hand on the soft muzzle of each horse.

"I wish you both success, my lord Bishops," he said. "And may you return to us soon, with the news that we hope so much to hear."

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Both men inclined their heads graciously, and de Montfort stepped away from them.

They urged their horse forward, and the bodyguard followed after them. They trotted out of the camp and took the old track that would lead them along the valley, around the edge of the old Saxon wall, and so down the slope into the Priory.

Behind them, de Montfort, de Clare and William Monchesny turned and went back into de Montfort s tent.

The two Churchmen did not share de Montfort s confidence regarding their reception.

"I trust Prior Foville is within the Priory," said Walter de Cantelupe. He shifted uneasily in his saddle, and adjusted his cloak fastidiously. He was a small man, rotund and with high colour in his cheeks, which bore witness to his love of good food and wine.

Richard de Sandwich grunted. He had no love for this man, who held high office in the Church, but followed none of its precepts. Richard himself was spare of frame, and had the permanent slight stoop of someone who had spent long hours poring over Holy Writ.

A fierce love of God burned in his heart, and showed in the fire of his gaze. Not many could withstand the direct gaze of those eyes, and most of the priests in his charge quailed visibly before him. He had no time for people like the Bishop of Worcester, who used his position for his own gain, and whose love of God was buried deep below his love of