Free Stormbird by Conn Iggulden Page A

park of Windsor.
    ‘Morning, my lord. I’m afraid the king isn’t feeling well enough for visitors, if that’s who you’re after.’
    ‘Stand up when you’re talking to me, Brewer,’ the duke retorted, coming further into the room and stopping. His gaze swept around suspiciously, looking for some explanation for the spymaster’s confidence. With a sigh, Derry pushed himself away from the windowsill and yawned. On the floor below, they could all hear a rhythmic thumping as the guards outside began to batter the door down.
    Derry glanced out of the window at files of soldiers running in all directions.
    ‘Bit of a brawl out there this morning, my lord. Your work, is it?’
    York eyed the door that he knew led directly to the king’s apartments. It was solidly shut against him, with only Derry in the waiting room. Yet something about the man’s insolent smile pricked at his nerves.
    ‘I’ve come to see the king,’ the duke said. ‘Go in and announce me, or I’ll do it myself.’
    ‘No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that, Richard old son. And I don’t think you will either. The king calls for
you
, or you don’t come. Has he called for you? No? Then you know what you can do with yourself, don’t you?’
    AsDerry spoke, York’s face grew dark with affronted rage. His men were as surprised as he was to hear a lord addressed by his common name. Both men stepped towards Derry and he squared up to them, still smiling strangely.
    ‘Lay a hand on me, lads, please. See what you get.’
    ‘Wait,’ York ordered. He could not shake the feeling that he was being trapped, that something was wrong. It was almost the sense of having eyes on him that he could not see. The two soldiers loomed over Derry, though he was as wide as either of them at the shoulder.
    ‘Good to see you still have a few wits knocking about,’ Derry said. ‘Now, lads, that door downstairs won’t last longer than a heartbeat. If I’m not here to stop them cutting you down, I don’t think your master’s title will hold them back, do you? Not next to the king’s rooms, it won’t.’
    York swore to himself, suddenly understanding that Derry was deliberately wasting time. He strode to the oak door, determined to see the king that morning, no matter what else happened.
    As he moved, something flashed past him. A cracking sound like a beam breaking made him jerk to a stop, his hand still out to take the door’s handle. York stared at the black iron bolt sticking out of the oak at head height.
    ‘That’s the only warning, Richard old son,’ he heard Derry say. ‘The next one goes through your neck.’
    The duke spun round in time to see a ribbon of dark purple curtain flutter to the ground. In its fall, it revealed a long slit that ran around the ceiling on one side, almost for the full length of the room. Three men lay flat in the gap, so that he could see only their heads and shoulders, as well as the terrible weapons they were aiming at him. Two of the three watched him coldly as they stared down the sights of crossbows. The third shuffled back on his elbows to reload. Yorkgaped up at the men, seeing the sunlight gleam on the polished bolt tips. He swallowed as Derry laughed.
    ‘I told you, Richard. The king calls or you
don’t
come.’
    Below their feet, a great crash told them the outer door had given way at last. The two soldiers with the duke exchanged a worried glance, their good mood evaporating.
    ‘Lads,
lads
!’ Derry said, taking a pace towards them. ‘I’m sure your
armed
presence near the
king
is just a misunderstanding! No,
don’t
back away from me. I have a few things I’d like to say to you before we’re done.’
    The clatter of running soldiers grew louder and voices shouted a challenge as men poured into the room.
    ‘I’d lie down if I was you,’ Derry told the two soldiers.
    They dropped quickly, holding their hands out empty so as not to be run through by one of the red-faced bawling men as they came in.