Bile sprang into William’s mouth as if it were his own throat. He threw his hands up to keep from retching. But he could not look away from the messenger and the wild-eyed horror that consumed him. He stumbled but was restrained, he made to grab at his neck but failed, blood weeping from the open meat. William had seen plenty of death, but this struck him as too cruel, too savage. King Richard didn’t even stop walking, he continued his collegiate circling of the room. He was talking still, though the words were lost to William. The dying man gurgled and mercifully passed out, slumping to the ground.

But Richard was suddenly in William’s face, immediate and full of intent. “Why is he dead now, Wendenal? What does it gain me?”

William could not hide his disgust. “Very kingly of you.”

“What does it gain me?” His breath was hot and stale.

“Well he obviously won’t be talking now, Richard, though it’s a hell of a way to make your point.” Blood seeped into the dry ground, thirsty. The handful of entourage lords had recoiled in horror. “He was a messenger. What did he learn here that was worth his life?”

Robin, ever on the right side of things, backed William’s dissent. “He came under a banner of peace, bearing gifts. The only possible motive to kill him would be in reaction to his suspicions. So this doesn’t help us at all. If anything, it still gives Saladin confirmation.”

Richard delighted in the response. “So what does it gain me?” He was rolling in the joy of it now, while William was gagging.

“I’ll tell you what you lose,” he coughed out, “you lose a position of sympathy. They’ll call you a marauder, they’ll say you’ve no respect for the rules of war, which puts us all in danger. They’ll kill any man they take prisoner.”

“A terrible thing I’ve done, then,” Richard rocked back and forth. “Saladin knows me to be no fool, he knows exactly why I shouldn’t kill the man. He knows what I lose, he knows everything you just said! So what does it gain me?”

“I don’t know!” William shouted. On the ground he watched the man’s blood turn prickly with dirt. There had been no point to it.

There was never any point to it.

“I don’t know what the hell it gains you,” he repeated.

“And neither does he!”

There it was, that was what Richard wanted. He caught William’s gaze and held it, the muscles around his eye clenched just so. Richard always wanted them to share his morality, to see the pieces as he did, beyond any common soldier. And William understood. He didn’t like it, but damned if he didn’t understand it.