Free The Warlock Heretical by Christopher Stasheff Page A

Catharine's face
    tightened. "Nor with his companions Graz and Marshall."
    "Aye." Tuan seemed somber. "And, too, since thou hast served their father the Duke so well, he hath become a
    veritable pillar of support."
    "Well, your hospitality to his wife and children had something to do with it, too," Rod demurred.
    "Too much so, I think." Catharine smiled ruefully. "He hath begun to request that we allow his son to attend upon
    us, here at Runnymede."
    "Well, that's the tradition, isn't it? Every nobleman should be a knight, and every knight has to start out as a
    page."
    "Aye, and the pages must needs serve in the house of a nobleman other than their sire." Tuan turned to Catharine.
    "He may stay with the other pages, my sweet. There is no need for him to be among the more boorish of our
    young lords."
    Catharine's face blanked with surprise at the notion; then she turned thoughtful. " 'Tis most intriguing, the notion
    of a duke's heir going about as though he were any common knight's son. ..." Rod suppressed a smile and veered back to the concern at hand, or not too far behind. "I take it your troop of
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    young louts has been more loutish than usual."
    "Aye, so thou couldst say." Tuan's face hardened. "They have set to brawling."
    "Rapiers and daggers in the hall set aside for them!" Catharine's eyes kindled again.
    "Really?" Rod looked up. "And the cause of the quarrel?"
    "Who can say?" Tuan slapped the table in annoyance. "They claim lords' privilege, and refuse to speak of it."
    "Oh, come on—say," Rod coaxed. "What do you need, a signed confession?" Catharine looked up at him, amused. "There is some sign of faction, is there not?" Rod nodded. "Ghibelli, Marshall, Glasgow, and Guelph against the Crown, the other five for it. I'd say that
    amounts to a party, Your Majesty."
    "Aye, even as their fathers do align themselves." Tuan

rolled his eyes up, exasperated. "Ever do di Medici, Marshall, and Savoy swear allegiance—and ever are they
    forsworn!"
    "And ever will be," Rod said quietly. "Ever consider appointing new lords, Your Majesties?"
    "Be sure that we have," Catharine responded, "and be sure that we foresee the barons rising as a man were we to
    so disinherit even one of their number."
    "Yes. Not much luck there." Rod gazed into his wine. "The problem is to replace the lords without replacing the
    houses. Their sons being hostage should have helped, there."
    "I had so hoped," Than admitted. "Yet they will not be persuaded."
    "Rather do we harbor serpents in our bosom," Catharine
    said venomously.
    "Well, at least you know where they are that way."
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    "As we know their sires' whereabouts." Tuan shook his head. "I mislike it, Lord Warlock. 'Tis a harbinger of war.
    These resentful barons lack only a focus, a point toward which to rally."
    "Which our Lord Abbot is rushing to give them—and they trust him to bring the mass of the people with him."
    "They will be torn," Catharine said, glowering. "Our good folk do treasure our reign."
    "You've brought tranquility to the average peasant," Rod allowed, "and your armies haven't trampled too many
    crops in the process."
    "Nay, not so many," Tuan said, with a rye smile. "Our subjects shall be torn indeed, 'twixt Crown and Gown."
    "So will the monks."
    Catharine looked up sharply. "Surely the Abbot's own will declare for him!"
    "They have no choice," Tuan reminded.
    "No, they haven't," Rod agreed, "but I can't help wondering how many will wish they had."
    "Thou dost speak of these friars who have broken away and come nigh us?"
    "Well, yes, them, of course." Rod paused. "I was also wondering, though, how many weren't quite ready to make
    the break, but don't quite approve of what their good Lord Abbot is doing."
    "What is good about him?" Catharine snapped.
    "Oh, quite a bit, really," Rod insisted. "He always