A Flight of Arrows A.J. MacKenzie (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

wise. I must say I am tempted to remain neutral myself. Yours is a complex plan, my lords, and in my experience, complex plans have a habit of going wrong. You have set a trap for Edward here at Poissy. But what if he should escape from it?’

‘He will not,’ said the man from the north.

The burly man cleared his throat again but said nothing. The man beside him, weather-beaten and scarred like the cliffs of his homeland in Monaco, growled under his breath. ‘What about the money? You offered twenty thousand écus. I want more.’

‘And you shall have it, Signor Grimaldi,’ said the man from the West Country. ‘For you, and also for you, Signor Doria, and for all of you. Count Rožmberk, the high chamberlain of Bohemia. Count Louis of Vaud, the regent of Savoy. Marshal de Montmorency. My lord John of Hainault. Cardinal Aubert and you also, Cardinal Ceccano. – When the deed is done and the Count of Alençon is crowned King Charles V of France, there will be a reward of forty thousand écus in gold.’

‘You are doubling the money?’ asked Louis of Vaud, the grey-haired man. His face was incredulous.

‘We are. Are you tempted now to join us?’

Vaud said nothing. ‘And you, Grand Prior?’ the man from the north asked. ‘I know the Knights of Saint John have forsaken all worldly goods. But monastic poverty can still be endured in comfort, I think. And forty thousand écus would buy you a great deal of comfort.’

‘The money would be useful to my order,’ the Grand Prior said smoothly. ‘More to the point, I believe King Charles V will make a better king than his brother; and, of course, he will look kindly on the Knights of Saint John and will favour them in future. I am with you.’

‘And me?’ demanded Charles d’Alençon. ‘What is my reward?’

‘The throne of France, of course. And one hundred thousand écus, to pay off your debts and suppress your enemies. And distribute to your loyal friends, of course,’ added the man from the north, glancing at Rollond de Brus.

Montmorency raised his eyebrows. ‘You will pay out almost half a million écus, at a time when your king is nearly bankrupt? I did not realise there was so much money in all of England.’

‘There are reasons why King Edward has no money,’ the man from the West Country said, and he smiled.

‘And once this plan is complete, what then?’ demanded the bearded Count Rožmberk. ‘What is in this for you?’

‘We shall make profit out of chaos,’ said the man from the north. ‘And invite you to join us. In this room are representatives of some of the greatest powers of Europe: the papacy, France, England, the Knights of Saint John. And others that were once great, and could be again: Genoa, Savoy.’ He looked again at Louis of Vaud. ‘Savoy is a mere county now. With our support, you could make it a kingdom once more.’

‘We have tried that before,’ Vaud said. ‘We failed.’

‘Forty thousand écus, remember? With that amount of money, you could buy the fealty of your fellow rulers. Your kingdom could stretch from Provence to the Rhine.’

The man from the north turned back to Count Rožmberk, the bearded man. ‘We are waiting for King Jean of Bohemia. Has his army arrived yet?’

‘Indeed. They have joined the royal army at Saint-Denis.’

‘King Jean is ambitious and desires further conquests to enlarge his kingdom, but he needs money. We can provide it.’

‘And I say again. What do you intend to do?’

‘Say rather what do you want to do? Unite the embattled kingdoms of Spain and lead them to conquer the Moors? Crush Venice and take over the spice trade? Launch a new crusade to reconquer Jerusalem? Overthrow the Greek empire and restore the empire of Constantinople? Where do your ambitions lead you, my lords? Whatever they are, we can help you achieve them. We are the brokers of power, who will make a new Europe. We call on you to be part of it.’

There was a moment of silence. The man from the north looked around the room for a moment, then drew his sword and held it up by the blade, so the hilt formed the sign of a cross. Beside him, the West Country man touched the hilt and then raised his hand in the air. ‘This is our pledge,’ he said. ‘Join us.’

Jean de Nanteuil, the Grand Prior of the Knights of Saint John, stepped up and touched the hilt, kissing his fingers as he withdrew. Grimaldi of Monaco followed him, and so after a little hesitation did Ottone Doria from Genoa. The two cardinals followed. Alençon looked at Rožmberk and Vaud. ‘Well, my lords? It is time to choose sides.’

Silently Rožmberk stepped forward and touched the hilt. Vaud smiled a little. ‘Forty thousand écus,’ he said. ‘It appears, gentlemen, that you have found my price,’ and he too touched the sword. Montmorency and Hainault followed, and last of all came Alençon. He rested his fingertips on the hilt, and then suddenly wrapped his hand hard around it, as if he intended to rip it from the other man’s hands.

‘Do not fail me,’ he said.

‘We will not,’ said the man from the West Country.

A moment passed, and then Alençon relaxed his grip. Without another word he turned and walked out of the room, followed by the others. John of Hainault lingered for a moment, looking into the eyes of the man from the north and smiling a little. ‘My congratulations,’ he said. ‘You have a played a long game with patience and skill.’

‘Twenty years,’ said the man from the north. ‘We have had our setbacks, but we have won through.’

‘You have. I hope you get the reward you deserve.’

‘I will,’ said the man from the north. ‘We all will. Are you certain about Alençon?’

‘He is a bombastic, arrogant fool,’ said Hainault. ‘But he is also the king’s brother. We must either use him, or kill him. The former