Chapters (96)
- Cover
- By David Gilman
- SHADOW OF THE HAWK
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Contents
- CHARACTER LIST
- Map
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- PART ONE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- PART TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- PART FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
- Author’s Notes
- About the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
‘Did you think we would declare war?’ The King laughed and settled himself in a chair. A servant darted forward and poured wine into a silver goblet. ‘It is a game of chess between us and the Prince of Wales.’
Bucy shook his head. Was he becoming so feeble-minded that he could not keep up with the young King’s rapid thoughts? ‘I... I fail to understand the connection.’
‘We made our decision weeks ago when de Hayle was paid for his story. We sent de Bagneaux south to negotiate with the King of Aragon’s chamberlain.’
Bucy’s mind raced. Sending his confidential secretary Gontier de Bagneaux to open negotiations with Castile’s enemy, Aragon, had required such secrecy that they’d kept even him in the dark. But to what end?
‘Your dismay is plain to see,’ said the King. ‘Have no qualms. We wanted you here close to us. You were correct in thinking affairs of state needed attention when our efforts were needed elsewhere. We had to be seen to be doing something, which is why the counsellors were engaged. No one knew.’
‘How do the Prince of Wales and Blackstone fit into this, highness?’
Charles watched servants stack more wood onto the fire. The flames leapt. He huddled in his cloak. He was cold all the time. His frailty was a concern to the likes of Bucy, but where the body faltered the mind’s projection was as sharp and true as a well-aimed arrow. ‘We have the Englishman Hugh Calveley and his men waiting in Languedoc with our brother Louis.’
‘Was he not contracted to fight other routiers in the south?’
The King nodded. His thin lips showed yellowed teeth. Bucy saw the sewer rat’s cunning. His voice fell to barely more than a whisper that seethed with energy. ‘I have made plans over these past weeks, Simon. Hugh Calveley will not ride against the routiers, he will lead them.’
Bucy broke protocol and stepped rapidly towards the King, drawn by his explanation that suddenly filled the old man’s heart with hope. The future opened before him. This bold, calculated act was the beginning of France’s resurgence. ‘And... and the Prince of Wales will do what?’ he asked himself and then answered his own question. ‘It is already too late to form an army, but he will need to protect Don Pedro. He will send his Master of War, Thomas Blackstone.’
‘And if good fortune smiles on us, Simon, we rid ourselves of him at last.’