“Then,” said Brilliana, “pray you go to the house and gather in my name from the servants’ hall such men as you may need for your enterprise. Use despatch, for indeed I long for your return.”
Master Peter paid her what he believed to be a courtly bow.
“That same nameless lady shall praise me,” he chuckled, and, turning, made for the house with all speed. When they were alone, Brilliana and Halfman looked at each other with the mirth of children who have successfully raided an orchard.
“I have netted them,” Brilliana said. “If it do but happen pat, we shall have served the King and punished two cozening faint-hearts. For the best of it is that neither can complain. Each is neck-high in the mire of lies, each has plundered the other, and must be dumb for shame of his knavery.”
“It will be brave to spy their faces,” Halfman commented, “when they smell out the snare.”
“Look to it,” Brilliana suggested, “that they be kept apart when they come here. The jest must not spoil. How these old hawks will fly at each other when we unhood them.”
“Trust me, lady,” said Halfman. “I have been a play-actor and know how to stage a pair of gabies to the show.”
He saluted her and made to depart. She had learned to like his company through the long days of siege, and this dull day of quiet she felt lonely. Moreover, she was grateful to him for having helped her so well in her plot against the niggards.
“Come again when you have taken order for this,” she said. “There is still much to do, much to think for.”