Robin simply smirked, but the coldness in his gaze might have killed. The messenger held that heavy moment before standing again to leave. Richard raised his hand lazily and his soldiers blocked the exit. Anything unexpected is an opportunity. So where was the opportunity in this, William wondered.

Richard cleared his throat. “Now if I were Saladin, which for the first time it grieves me I am not, what did I just gain from this?”

“Clearly a threat,” William answered. “A show of force.”

Richard seemed unimpressed with the answer. “What odds would he place on the success of this threat? That three nations’ worth of armies and preparations and reputations would slink away from one man’s veiled insults? Not likely. So why make the threat?” He asked it scholastically, as a teacher probing his students for their participation.

“Pure pride,” offered Ferrers. “They know everything about you, and want to brag about it.”

“Wrong.” Richard was short with him, and William enjoyed it. Ferrers deserved to be silenced exactly once for every word he ever uttered. The king slowly circled the tent, gesturing when necessary at the messenger as if he were a plaything for idle consideration. “What would it gain Saladin to posture and pose for me? I know him to be strong, I know him to be fearless. He doesn’t need to show me this. So why name you out, one by one? What does he gain?”

“Surprise, I suppose,” William tried to work it out, though the logic seemed clunky and rusted, pieces that weren’t made for each other. “Means we need to change our tactics. Perhaps he wants to flush out the real king into taking point again.”

Richard’s eyes darted around the room playfully. “If you’re right, which you’re not, what would he gain from that? If we change tactics, he abandons his advantage of knowledge. So where is the gain?”

“Are we supposed to be afraid he has a spy?” asked another baron.

“The fact that I am still gloriously alive means there is no spy. One last time, what does he gain?”

Robin’s voice, strong and true, “Confirmation.”

“Confirmation!” Richard nearly danced at the word. “He didn’t know about my body doubles, but he did suspect. Perhaps he heard rumor of you, or had a fancy thought flirt around his skull one night. And now he has confirmation of it. One man, sent under the banner of peace, can see the inside of this tent to test our reaction.”

William fidgeted. The answer didn’t explain everything. “But he knew exactly who we were. How did he know who to single out?”

“I was going to ask him the same thing,” Richard replied, “but it also struck me that I didn’t necessarily care.” His casual tone was matched only by the nonchalant way he opened the messenger’s neck with a knife from the table.