“But my Liege will surely listen to the counsel of his trusted advisors,” Morgan continued, crowding his horse against Kelson’s and herding it away from the officers, in the direction of the royal pavilion. “Duncan, you are aware of most of the layout of Castle Coroth, are you not?”

“Certainly,” Duncan agreed, aware that Morgan was trying to get Kelson out of the center of attention. “My prince, I believe that Alaric has a plan.”

Kelson reluctantly let himself be guided off to the side, where soldiers had finished erecting his pavilion and were setting up other tents, then glanced at Morgan once again, his anger apparently abated.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a scene,” he said in a low voice. “It’s just that Loris infuriates me so. Do you really have a plan?”

Morgan inclined his head, a faint smile on his lips. “I do.” He glanced around covertly, then dismounted and motioned the rest to do the same. When they had all entered the royal pavilion, he gestured for them to take seats, then stood with his hands on his hips.

“Now, we can do nothing yet, since we require the cover of darkness and time to prepare for what I have in mind. But once night falls, here is what I propose.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth.”

ISAIAH 42:1

THAT night, a thousand watch fires burned on the windswept plain before Coroth, their flickering lights like a thousand eyes watching the besieged city. Outside the king’s tent, five specially prepared horses waited, their harness and hooves muffled against telltale sounds, their trappings dull and dark.

Nigel’s son Conall stood watch over the horses. It would be his task to bring the animals back, once he had completed his mission. The boy gathered a black cloak around himself and scuffed the toe of a boot against the sandy soil beneath his feet, then looked up abruptly as the tent flap was withdrawn. His father stood in the opening, back still to the outside, and Conall moved a little closer as Morgan, Duncan, the king, and finally the two bishops came into the space before the tent.

“You understand my orders, in case we fail, then, Uncle,” the king was saying.

Nigel nodded gravely. “I understand.”

“And you, Bishop Arilan,” the young king continued. “I know I can count on you.”

“I doubt my aid will be necessary, Sire,” the bishop said, permitting a smile to cross his lips. “Your plan seems sound. But you know how to reach me, should the need arise.”

“We will pray that will not be needed,” Kelson replied. He dropped to one knee, as did Morgan and Duncan. After a slight hesitation, Conall, too, knelt, and Cardiel bowed his head.

“God go with all of you, my prince,” Arilan murmured, blessing them with the sign of their faith. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

The blessing completed, the men rose and began mounting up, taking reins silently in gloved hands. As Morgan began to lead out, Duncan following, Arilan laid a hand on Cardiel’s bridle and motioned him to bend nearer.