Free Stormbird by Conn Iggulden Page B

York remained standing and folded his arms, watching with cold eyes. He knew none of the men-at-arms would dare to touch him. When his soldiers were trussed securely on the floor, they all seemed to look to Derry for new orders.
    ‘That’s better, Richard,’ Derry said. ‘Isn’t that better? I think it is. Now, I don’t want to be the one responsible for waking the king up this morning, if we haven’t already. How about we take this outside? Quiet as mice now, lads.’
    The duke strode through the assembled guards with his face a shade of dark red. No one stopped him heading down the stairs. To Derry’s eyes at least, it was almost comical the way the guards picked up their prisoners as quietly as possible and trooped back down after him.
    York did not pause at the body of his biggest soldier by the shattered outer door. His man Francis had his throat slashed open and lay in a spreading pool of blood. York stepped over him without a downward glance. The boundprisoners moaned in fear as they saw their companion, so that one of the guards reached down and cuffed the closest one hard across the face.
    The sun was bright after the gloom of the inner rooms. Derry strolled out behind them all and was immediately approached by the sergeant-at-arms, a man who sported a huge white moustache and practically shook with anger. Derry accepted his salute.
    ‘No harm done, Hobbs. Your men deserve a pint on me tonight.’
    ‘I wanted to thank you, sir, for the warning,’ the sergeant said, glowering at York as he stood watching. For all the gulf between their ranks, the security of Windsor was the sergeant’s personal responsibility and he was furious at the assault on it.
    ‘It’s no more than my job, Hobbs,’ Derry replied. ‘You’ve one body to clear away, but that’s all. I think our point has been made.’
    ‘As you say, sir, though I don’t like to think how far he reached. I will still make an official complaint if you don’t mind, sir. This is not to be borne and the king will hear of it.’ He spoke for the duke’s benefit, though York listened without any visible reaction.
    ‘Take our pair of trussed chickens to the guardhouse, would you, Hobbs? I’d like a word with them before I send them back to their ship. I’ll deal with his lordship myself.’
    ‘Right you are, sir. Thank you, sir.’
    With a final glare hot enough to melt iron, the old soldier marched his men away, leaving Derry and York alone.
    ‘I wonder, Brewer, if you can survive having me as an enemy,’ York said. He had lost his red flush, but his eyes glittered with malice.
    ‘Oh,I dare say I can, but then I’ve known much more dangerous men than you, you pompous prick.’
    There was no one to hear and Derry’s mask of wry good nature dropped away as he faced the duke and stood threateningly close to him.
    ‘You should have stayed in France and carried out your king’s orders,’ Derry said, poking him in the chest with a stiff finger.
    York clenched his fists in rage, but he knew Derry would beat him into the ground at the slightest provocation. The king’s spymaster was known to frequent the fight rings in London. It was the sort of rumour he made sure all his enemies heard.
    ‘
Are
they his orders?’ York grated. ‘A wedding and a truce? My men to remain in Calais? I
command
the army, Brewer. Yet I get no word until now. Who will protect the king if his soldiers are three hundred miles to the north? Have you even thought of that?’
    ‘The orders were genuine?’ Derry asked innocently.
    York sneered.
    ‘The
seals
were correct, Brewer, as I’m sure you know. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear it was your hand on them, melting the wax. I’m not the only one who thinks you have too much control over King Henry. You have no real rank, no title, yet you issue commands in his name. Who can say if they have truly come from the king? And if you poke your finger at me again, I will see you hanged.’
    ‘I could have a title,’ Derry