the dismay of your other suitors.”
Heat came to her cheeks and she struggled to keep her composure. They could discuss Robin at a different time. Later, when urgent matters didn’t press so hard.
“You should have told me your plans,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I would have kept your secret.”
He sighed. “I know you would have, but I had reason to keep close counsel until the very last moment.” He paused. “Even from you,” he added.
“I don’t think you should go,” she said. “Send the men, but you are too valuable to risk losing in such a venture.”
He looked straight at her, fallen hair casting a shadow over his eyes.
“My dearest niece, this cause is too valuable for me
not
to go.”
She took a deep breath, fully aware that her next words would brush against blasphemy, even though she did not mean them as such.
“The pope does not go into the fray himself,” she said. “Surely he cannot expect a king to do so.”
Richard reached out and took her hand. “He is fighting very hard, just not in the way you are thinking.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, and it was almost as if she was watching him age before her eyes, his shoulders stooping under some invisible burden.
“We do not struggle merely against flesh and blood.”
She blinked. She had heard such words before. One of the monks had spoken them, years earlier, in her childhood, or perhaps it had even been the cardinal. The man who had said them had been quoting from the Bible, and had talked about the spiritual battle that raged around them all—spirits and angels and demons and principalities all clashing and striking and clanging, invisible to the eye. She remembered it vividly, because of how deeply it had frightened her. She had barely slept for a fortnight, convinced that she saw shadows moving around her room, images teasing her and flickers of motion caught out of the corners of her eyes.
She’d been young, and she’d just lost her parents to the fire.
The king continued. “Sometimes there is more to a situation than there appears. Evil lives in this world, and every day it walks the earth, growing stronger. We have an opportunity—” he shook his head, dismissing his choice of words “—a
duty
, to vanquish it now before it consumes everything. If we don’t, the world will be covered in darkness, and there will be nowhere anyone can run to be safe.”
A chill danced up her spine. “You’re talking about more than the infidels.”
“Every war is waged on three battlefields. On the earth itself, in the human heart, and in the realm of the spirits. Every so often those three battlefields merge into one.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes turned sad. “And I’m very glad you don’t. I pray that you never do, because if that day comes, then I will have failed to protect you and England from this great curse.”
“If the threat is that great, shouldn’t you remain here to protect the kingdom?”
“The kingdom was here before me and will remain after me.” He shook his head. “I’ve chosen another to stand in my stead.”
“Another?” she said, her eyes widening. “Who?”
“John is coming to care for the land and watch the throne.”
“John?” she said.
“My younger brother. Your uncle. Lord of Ireland.”
“Oh.” The word went dry in her throat.
Her Uncle John. She had met him only once, on a visit to Ireland when she was a wee child. Her memory of him was hazy and distorted by the passage of time.
“He has been gone so long.”
Richard shifted on the bench beside her. “So long that it’s difficult to recall why our father sent him to Ireland in the first place. He’s not the true king there, just a vassal of England living in a small holding owned by the crown.”
“You are the crown.”
He tilted his head in assent. “Owned by me then.” Richard grew quiet. She let him fade into memories for a long moment as she studied his face in profile. His hair
Heat came to her cheeks and she struggled to keep her composure. They could discuss Robin at a different time. Later, when urgent matters didn’t press so hard.
“You should have told me your plans,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I would have kept your secret.”
He sighed. “I know you would have, but I had reason to keep close counsel until the very last moment.” He paused. “Even from you,” he added.
“I don’t think you should go,” she said. “Send the men, but you are too valuable to risk losing in such a venture.”
He looked straight at her, fallen hair casting a shadow over his eyes.
“My dearest niece, this cause is too valuable for me
not
to go.”
She took a deep breath, fully aware that her next words would brush against blasphemy, even though she did not mean them as such.
“The pope does not go into the fray himself,” she said. “Surely he cannot expect a king to do so.”
Richard reached out and took her hand. “He is fighting very hard, just not in the way you are thinking.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, and it was almost as if she was watching him age before her eyes, his shoulders stooping under some invisible burden.
“We do not struggle merely against flesh and blood.”
She blinked. She had heard such words before. One of the monks had spoken them, years earlier, in her childhood, or perhaps it had even been the cardinal. The man who had said them had been quoting from the Bible, and had talked about the spiritual battle that raged around them all—spirits and angels and demons and principalities all clashing and striking and clanging, invisible to the eye. She remembered it vividly, because of how deeply it had frightened her. She had barely slept for a fortnight, convinced that she saw shadows moving around her room, images teasing her and flickers of motion caught out of the corners of her eyes.
She’d been young, and she’d just lost her parents to the fire.
The king continued. “Sometimes there is more to a situation than there appears. Evil lives in this world, and every day it walks the earth, growing stronger. We have an opportunity—” he shook his head, dismissing his choice of words “—a
duty
, to vanquish it now before it consumes everything. If we don’t, the world will be covered in darkness, and there will be nowhere anyone can run to be safe.”
A chill danced up her spine. “You’re talking about more than the infidels.”
“Every war is waged on three battlefields. On the earth itself, in the human heart, and in the realm of the spirits. Every so often those three battlefields merge into one.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes turned sad. “And I’m very glad you don’t. I pray that you never do, because if that day comes, then I will have failed to protect you and England from this great curse.”
“If the threat is that great, shouldn’t you remain here to protect the kingdom?”
“The kingdom was here before me and will remain after me.” He shook his head. “I’ve chosen another to stand in my stead.”
“Another?” she said, her eyes widening. “Who?”
“John is coming to care for the land and watch the throne.”
“John?” she said.
“My younger brother. Your uncle. Lord of Ireland.”
“Oh.” The word went dry in her throat.
Her Uncle John. She had met him only once, on a visit to Ireland when she was a wee child. Her memory of him was hazy and distorted by the passage of time.
“He has been gone so long.”
Richard shifted on the bench beside her. “So long that it’s difficult to recall why our father sent him to Ireland in the first place. He’s not the true king there, just a vassal of England living in a small holding owned by the crown.”
“You are the crown.”
He tilted his head in assent. “Owned by me then.” Richard grew quiet. She let him fade into memories for a long moment as she studied his face in profile. His hair
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