Free A Tapestry of Dreams by Roberta Gellis

David’s trespasses and makes claim that all Northumbria has fallen—although the only place he has been is your keep at Wark, where he admits the attackers were only a small force. They could have been a band of outlaws, hoping by a clever ruse to find easy pickings. You are asking us to believe that in the entire north of England there is not one other who would come to warn the king of a Scottish invasion. Is not one young man’s word a frail thread on which to hang the rush northward of a whole army?”
    “It is not so frail a thread,” Hugh answered calmly before Sir Walter, who had stiffened with anger, could speak. “The force was made up of Scots and was no band of outlaws. I walked among them and heard them talking. The force was led by Sir William de Summerville, who is known to be a liege man of King David. I took his horse during my escape, and you may look at the destrier and accoutrements and tell me how an outlaw would come by such.”
    “Usually the outlaws in those hills are reduced to eating horses by this time of year,” Sir Walter put in dryly. “And Hugh came first because he rode harder and faster.”
    Stephen nodded and smiled. “He was certainly all but asleep on his feet when he arrived.”
    Hugh bowed acknowledgment of the king’s support, but his eyes were still on Pembroke. “As to my guesses about the invasion, my lord, if you can find causes other than those I offered for the attack on Wark, those causes must certainly be judged against mine. But if”—Hugh’s voice suddenly lost its tone of calm reason and hardened with naked threat—“you are suggesting that this is some plot of my own or my lord’s to deceive the king, I will meet”—he hesitated, ran his eyes with open contempt over Pembroke’s rather flabby rotundity, then went on—“I will meet your champion and prove on his body that I have spoken the truth.”
    Stephen laughed. “So, Licorne’s temper does grow out atop his head. I wondered at so calm a reply from one of that color hair. I like a man who will pledge his body to support his word. But it will not do. Those who love me must not fight among themselves.”
    “Certainly not,” Winchester agreed. “Nor do I wish to cast doubt on this young man’s veracity, for I believe he spoke what he believed to be the truth. Still, it does trouble me that no other message has come from the north. Does not Summerville have lands in Roxburgh? Is it not possible that the attack on Wark is some private act? And if that is so, will not it seem an offense or a threat to King David to bring a large army north?”
    “I must agree,” Pont de l’Arche said, shrugging. “A guess, no matter how good the will behind it, is still a guess. Sir Walter may be right that Licorne is only the first to bring this news, but it seems to me also that we should wait until we have some confirmation.”
    “Which might not come for another week,” Sir Walter protested. “Then more time will be lost in readying the army to march. By then, King David will have his own men in all the royal keeps, and it will be said throughout the north that King Stephen would not defend the land against the Scots. Delay, and you could lose a third of your kingdom, Sire.”
    “Run north on a false scent,” Pembroke, whose lands were in Wales, snarled, “and you will lose Wales.”
    “The Welsh,” Sir Walter pointed out, “are not one nation. There may be a rising here and there, but no king like David can draw all the Welsh together. A king must oppose a king. You, Lord Pembroke, and the other Marcher lords can hold down the petty princes of Wales.”
    Hugh’s face was expressionless as he listened, but he had to clasp his hands behind his back to keep them from trembling, and he was cold with fear inside. What if his reasoning were wrong? What if the taking of Wark were an act of collusion between Summerville and Wark’s castellan and had nothing to do with King David? He had jumped toa