The Devil in the Details

13. The Rules of the Game

Though it had seemed an eternity, the fight was not nearly as long nor as bloody as it had seemed at the time. The enemy—or so Deirdre later found out—simply had bumbled into them in the woods and took advantage by attacking the flank on which she and Isabel had travelled.

The upshot was that Sir Constantine's men had suffered a dozen dead, and, after the unpleasant demise of their commander, the enemy troops had fled into the forest.

Rather than being angry that his force had suffered such losses, the old knight was happy, nay, even gleeful. He now knew the enemy force was near at hand and leaderless, and Constantine ordered the hounds unleashed the moment he arrived at the site of the ambush.

In the hunt that followed, a good time was had by all. My, how the Gheet were a strange people. They were a folk that Deirdre would never understand.

Although he was not a knight, by custom Driss had a claim to the possessions of the men he had struck down, including the horse, arms, and armor of the dead Lord Villiers. The dead man's effects were pricey, but something seized Deirdre once the hunters had departed in search of the fleeing enemy.

The wounded were few, and while Isabel helped the families and squires with the doctoring, Deirdre had an inkling to rummage through the effects of the dead lord.

"May I?" she asked Driss, pointing to the dead man's mount, which had obediently stayed with its master.

The young hostler, who had taken up a comfortable spot next to an old stump, was tending to his weapons and armor. He gave her a surprised look but nodded his friendly assent.

From the look of the saddlebags and other containers she found there, it seemed that the man was travelling with all his effects. There was a change of clothes, some toiletries, and bits and bobs of harness and rope. In the second saddlebag she searched were a number of documents. She settled down in the grass to give these a proper peruse, a task that took her nearly a quarter bell.

It was during that time that Sir Alexis arrived and took a seat on the ground beside her.

"Not joining the hunt?" she asked him without raising her eyes from the document she was reading. Others were within earshot, so she stayed in character.

"They had more help than they needed."

"Didn't want to steal glory from any of the youth?"

"Precisely."

She looked up at the fake knight and winked. "Sir Alexis, you are always generous in that way. Can we get back on the road soon?"

"Eager to see your friend Vivian?"

"Very, and to get on with our lives." She put away the paper she'd been reading, a letter from a cousin, and looked up again. "Sir Constantine seems like the happiest bloke in the world."

The Fiend chortled in a knightly fashion. "His sons and nephews are off with the army. They claimed he was too old."

"He's having his revenge now, isn't he?"

"Oh, quite. He'll have some great stories when they return. ... What are you reading there?"

"Sir Villiers' correspondence."

"Interesting?"

"Very."

Deirdre continued to read, and silence reigned for some time. After she finished another three documents, the Fiend spoke again.

"Mm ... how interesting, precisely?"

She reached into a sheaf of letters to her right and produced a document that she passed over to him. It was a set of orders, giving Villiers somewhat detailed instructions on how he was to conduct his campaign in the forests in proximity to Westport. Particularly, it called for the cutting of roads and the seizure of small towns along the coast to allow larger ships to dock.

Sir Alexis looked at her. When he spoke, it was in a low voice. "This is very important information. It will help the king and Baron William in their war."

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Hmm ... I don't follow."

"The ink is still fresh."

The creature nodded. "Yes, it is. And?"

She reached over, took the parchment in her hand, and flipped it over. "Look at the seal."

"Ah! Tuppence, you are very clever."

There on the back of the letter was a yellow wax seal. Pieced together, it formed the sign of the bull, the golden bull, the same sigil under which the fake Sir Otha travelled—the very same man who had been meeting with Chancellor Mallote.

"Master the rules of the game," she mimicked in the chancellor's phlegmy accent, "until you can play it better than they can."

The Fiend chuckled but said nothing.

"It won't interfere in your schemes if we tell the king his chancellor is a traitor, will it?" she asked the monster. The creature always had his own plots and plans, and those did not always involve the safety of the realm or its monarch.

"I can't see how," he said. "But that matters little."

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like the king to win this war?"

She thought but for a moment. She hadn't really met King Sebastian, but the king's plight was tied to the de Vere family. Or, rather, their plight was tied to him. Gheets though they may be, Deirdre had become incredibly attached to Baron William and his wife and children.

"I want the baron and his family to be safe," she said.

"Then we'll help them when we can."

"It's that simple?"

"Tuppence," he whispered. "You are right, I have my plots and schemes. But the rise and fall of kings and kingdoms means very little to me. The chap on the throne now is just as good as any. If you want to support him, let's do."

Again, she asked, "It's that simple?"

The Fiend then began to laugh in earnest. "It might throw my schedule a bit out of whack," he said at last, "but what's a century or two?"

The End