"You did it, boy, you tipped the balance for me when you pointed out what might happen if the pope dies," Charles said with a grin. "I was quite angry with you until then."
"I had a feeling you were, uncle," he said.
Charles's nail-studded boots clicked on the stone floor of the corridor. "Have you forgotten that if it were not for me, you would still be growing cobwebs at Gobignon?"
"No, uncle, I have not forgotten."
"Then why did you take the pope's letter to my brother without telling me about it?"
Simon felt a dull heat in his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had always known that Uncle Charles would want to be told first about any messages passing between the pope and the king. But, feeling it would be wrong, Simon had pretended to himself that he knew no such thing.
"It was my duty to take it promptly to the king," said Simon, looking straight ahead.
Charles suddenly stopped walking. "Simon," he said, forcing Simon to stop, turn, and look at him.
"Simon, do not let your idea of duty make you forget your loyalty to me. I helped raise you as a boy. I gave you this opportunity to bring honor to your house. I will be offering you even greater opportunities."
"I have not forgotten, uncle," Simon said again.