“I don’t suppose,” his words coughed out, “you have enough of your father in you to know what he would do, would you?” He smiled sadly, his white knuckles rapped absently onto the table. “I always thought it was greedy men that made the world so unlivable. I thought it was the temptation of power, the addiction of wealth, that turns our leaders into animals. After all, what are uprisings and rebellions if not the products of injustice? I thought a bit of understanding could fix this. I thought I could avoid the escalation of events by allowing that which was forgivable. Why can’t people accept that which they have, rather than take that which they do not?”

William wished he could succinctly explain this perpetual problem of humanity. “My father would say the key to true justice is to think as your adversary,” he said. “To see yourself as their enemy. In their position, how have they been wronged, and what would they want in return?”

“Lord Beneger is a wise man, but I disagree. I should think the world only grows worse by considering yourself an enemy to others.”

It was a noble thought, and rare in a leader. William hoped he had played this correctly. Not quite a week had passed since he’d sent secret word to Robin to stop his escapades, hopefully enough time to make the difference he needed.

There was noise down the hall and below, of people approaching. De Lacy looked down into his hands as the footsteps amplified. “You see, it isn’t greedy men at all who make the world so unlivable. It’s men like me. I thought I could give people a longer leash, and that they’d stop pulling at it so. I erroneously convinced myself that nothing was an acceptable reaction to something.”

The door creaked open and the room was suddenly full. Oughtibridge led them, followed by the lords of Papplewick, Norwell, the barons of Maunsfeld and Lowdham. Each carried their smug righteousness in the air with them, suffocating the room. The sheriff’s assortment of counsellors was also invited, including those that regularly disagreed with him. William was familiar with most of them by now—the easily startled old coinmaster Arnold de Nottoir, the conservative trademaster Gerome Artaud—a dozen or so in total. Hamon Glover and Guy of Gisbourne were paired with a few others, trusted voices such as William who held no authority in Nottingham but whose opinion was valued. The Lady Margery d’Oily was one of them, though she was no doubt only a substitute for her absent husband the Earl of Warwick. A handful of Guardsmen filled in the gaps of the room, along with servant girls to wine them. William craned his head to search if Arable was amongst them, but could not find her.