The five slouched out, and John Rich, who was sitting at the far end of the dais table, came and stood behind Roger Bland’s chair.
“My lord?”
“Ah, Master Rich, bend your head nearer. You will take thirty men and such gear as you need, and ride at dawn. I must have this fabulous fellow in white harness. See to it that he does not frighten you all.”
Rich grinned.
“It shall be done, my lord.”
“Man, let it be done. I am beginning to be angry.”
Five minutes later my Lord of Troy took a last sip of sweet wine, washed his hands in perfumed water, and went to his closet. Fulk de Lisle followed at his heels, smiling humorously at the great man’s back.
“Fulk de Lisle.”
“My dear lord?”
“Is there more in this, think you, than meets the eye?”