Free An Antic Disposition by Alan Gordon Page A

“He has earned the right to speak.”
    “I have a tendency to speak whether I have the right to or not,” said Gerald. “I ask you again, if you do not go to Slesvig, can you still survive?”
    The others looked at Valdemar.
    “If Slesvig is faithful, then I have the best chance of prevailing,” said the King. “If not, the rest of my forces would be caught between Sveyn on the north and Slesvig on the south. I would not do well fighting on two fronts.”
    “Then one out of three is better odds than nothing at all,” said Gerald. “Perhaps I could weight the dice in your favor.”
    “How?” asked Valdemar.
    “This had best not involve killing my brother,” said Fengi, lurching to his feet.
    “If your brother has turned traitor, then his life is forfeit,” said Valdemar. “But as deadly as our foolish friend has proved to be, I suspect he has something else in mind.”
    “I have a friend in Slesvig,” said Gerald.
    “Let me guess,” said Valdemar. “Another fool.”
    “Yes, sire,” said Gerald. “Another fool.”
    Slowly, a grin crept across Valdemars face.
----
    F our nights later , Terence helped the tapster heave the last drunken fisherman out of The Viking’s Rest, then went to his room in the back, counting his money as he walked. This was why he failed to notice the end of the staff held across his doorway at midshin.
    “Careless,” commented Father Gerald as Terence went sprawling.
    “They would make you sweep out the Guildhall for a month if they caught you like that.”
    Terence picked himself up, then held up his hand.
    “At least I didn’t drop any money,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. What’s up?”
    “What have you heard about events in Roskilde?” asked Father Gerald, sitting on the edge of Terence’s pallet. He was in monk’s garb again, the better to skulk around at night.
    “Nothing specific,” said Terence. “Gorm got a message by bird a few days ago that sent him scurrying around like a man possessed, and Ørvendil has stepped up the patrols and reinforced the garrison, but no one knows why.”
    “Any unwinged messengers come in?” asked the priest.
    “No, and I’ve been watching like a hawk,” said Terence. “What happened in Roskilde?”
    Father Gerald filled him in briefly. Terence gave a low whistle when he heard about Larfner.
    “I didn’t know the man, of course,” he said. “But Kanard spoke quite well of him. I know he’s an old friend of yours. I’m sorry, Father.”
    “So am I,” said Father Gerald. “We’ll mourn him properly when this is over. In the meanwhile I have become more actively involved than I anticipated when I last spoke to you. Despite the Guild’s admonitions, I have become one of Valdemars protectors.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “In a monastery about five miles from here, along with Ørvendil’s brother Fengi and three men. Esbern the Quick is living up to his name by running north to rally the troops and bring his family’s power into play. But the key to success may be right here in Slesvig. If the King comes here, will he live through the night?”
    Terence frowned.
    “I haven’t been here that long,” he said. “But if I was a betting man, I would say yes.”
    Father Gerald seized the fool’s hand, covering the coins in it.
    “Bet,” he commanded.
    “Maybe I could level the field first,” said Terence. “Do you want to stay here?”
    “No, I need to report back,” said Father Gerald. “I will return tomorrow night.”
    He opened the shutters and peeped outside, then climbed through the window
    “Where shall we meet?” asked Terence.
    “I’ll find you,” said the priest as he vanished into the night.
    “I’m sure of that,” muttered Terence as he closed his shutters. He yawned. One day’s notice to save the world, he thought. Better get some sleep.
    He came to the island just before dawn, much earlier than his usual time. The guards at the drawbridge were surprised to see