Ser Gabriel nodded. “My lords, what we need to do is save the Queen. I think everyone here is aware that I am a warlock. I think many of you know how potent the good Sister Amicia is, as well.” Again, he looked around. Outside, the sun was dimmed briefly by a racing cloud, and then brightened again to a summer-like golden intensity. Easter Monday was a beautiful day. “I suspect that the King is ensorcelled,” he said.

Amicia nodded.

“This King has always been swayed by the nearest opinion, the last word.” He shrugged. “Or so my lady mother, his sister, has always maintained. Such a man would be easy to control with sorcery, I believe.” He looked around. “Whether he is drugged or ensorcelled, the immediate requirement is the rescue of the Queen. That is best done inside the rule of law, by one of us—me, unless you overrule me—fighting on her behalf tomorrow.”

The Prince of Occitan looked startled. Then he spoke to Prior Wishart, and after two or three sentences, he sat back.

“Prince Tancredo asks if you really believe that the Galles will just let you ride into the tourney ground and fight tomorrow? Do you even think that they will hold the tournament? They’ve arrested or attainted most of the participants.”

The Red Knight leaned back, and to Amicia he wore that insufferable look of pleasure he had when he felt he was smarter than everyone else. “They haven’t attainted me,” he said. “Or Michael, or Gavin, or Tom. In fact, no one at this table is attainted except the members of the Order—and the prince, against whom the King has ordered war. The rest of us can legally ride into the lists and fight.” He looked at the Prince. “Prince Tancredo, even tyranny has rules. De Vrailly has to appear to follow the law. He cannot just kill the Queen.”

Tom snorted. “O’ course he can. Boyo, I love ye like a brother, but they can rope us all in an’ kill us, every mother’s son. An’ tell the commons whatever story they please.”

The Red Knight nodded. “I’m not as great a fool as that, Tom. I disagree—but we have several loaded dice in this.”

Tom was cleaning his nails with a dirk as long as most men’s swords. “Eh? Name ’em, y’ loon.” He grinned and waved the knife. “I mean, I’ll come wi’ ye regardless of what mad drivel of a plan you cook up, but I’d like to hear what we have on our side.”

The Red Knight frowned. “I don’t like to lay my plans out.”

The table gave a collective sigh.

Amicia leaned forward. “I think that this time, Gabriel, you must share. We are all risking our lives. This is not one of your military pranks.”