Belaset's Daughter - By Feona J Hamilton Page 0,101

the unfortunate man with a wave of his hand. "The rest of us have a battle to plan."

The young man stood, and left the room.

Simon turned back to Hugh Dispenser.

"I need some idea of the numbers of men who are likely to come with us," he said. "Can you give me that information within the next two days?"

"I can send messengers out to call the people in," said Hugh. "Their leaders are known to me. In two days or less you shall know but they are untrained, my Lord!"

"I know," said Simon. "But they have their anger at the King to get them to the battle, and their bloodlust to take them through it. That is all I need from them. We will give them food and drink, as you say, until the battle is over."

One of the other men said, "And after that, my Lord?"

"Why, after that," said Simon. "We shall have to see how they have acquitted themselves. If we are all dead, the problem solves itself. If not....."

He grinned round at them, amused by the varying expressions on their faces. Hugh Dispenser, ever the diplomat, looked unmoved, Monchesny was trying to keep the surprise and distaste from his face, and one or two of the others looked shocked. He let the silence lengthen, then said:

"No-one will be left to their fate, if they come with us. Do you really think that I would embark on a plan without making arrangements for those who are willing to fight for me? I thought you knew me better than that!"

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The atmosphere changed instantly. Those who were thinking just that looked shamefaced, and Hugh Dispenser allowed a smile to touch his lips. His eyes met those of Simon, and a look of understanding passed between them, born of their longstanding friendship. Simon himself leaned back in his chair, with his arms straight and gripped the edge of the table.

"We must get news of Henry’s exact whereabouts, and how he plans to move next," he said. "Who can tell us that? Who will go for us?"

"We need only get to Roger de Tourney," said Monchesny. "He is always with the King, and has knowledge of his plans. If someone will ride out today and make contact with de Tourney, we can have our answer by the time we have gathered the Londoners to our cause."

"I will go, my Lord," said a voice from Simon’s right.

De Montfort turned his head and looked at the man who leaned forward with an eager expression on his face. It was John Fitzjohn, a tough and vigorous man in his late twenties. His sister had married one of Henry’s followers, and Fitzjohn was ever eager to prove his loyalty to Simon because of it.

"Who better?" said Simon. "There should be fewer difficulties for you in getting news than for many of us. You can enquire for your sister."

"I can, indeed, my lord!" said Fitzjohn, eagerly. "And in my search, I may find her husband and pick his brains for Henry’s plan, or make him take me to de Tourney, if he knows nothing himself."

"There must be someone with you," said de Montfort, musingly. "Someone to bring back a message, but also to be a companion for you. One man alone can arouse suspicion, whereas two...."

There was a clamour, as others around the table sought to join in the adventure and to benefit from any glory there might be gained from bringing back important information.

Simon held up his hand for silence, and it came immediately.

"We will choose someone," he said to Fitzjohn. "Then you must go and prepare for your task. I want an answer within a few days."

He turned to Hugh Dispenser.

"When Fitzjohn returns, you will send out your messengers," he said. "I want all who would join us to gather on the King’s Green in three days from now. We cannot arm them they must

bring whatever they have themselves. Gentlemen, we have work to do!"

He rose from the table and everyone except Fitzjohn followed his example. Talking eagerly among themselves, they left the chamber. Simon watched them go, thoughtfully, his arms folded and one hand to his beard. Fitzjohn, watching Simon, felt a sudden tremor of fear and excitement, oddly mixed. If all went well, this would be the start of a glorious BOSON BOOKS

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change in English history, he thought, with sudden foresight. If not, Simon, and all who followed him, were condemning themselves to failure and certain death, as traitors. They must