Read Online Stormbird by Conn Iggulden - Free Book Online Page B

no matter where we hold it, we have another problem, don’t we? Our Henry can’t be allowed to speak to the French king. Just a short chat with the lamb and they’ll be blowing their own bloody trumpets and looking across the Channel.’
    ‘Ah. Yes, that is a problem. In Tours or Calais. I can’t see … is there not some neutral position, halfway between the two?’
    Derry looked up scornfully at the older man.
    ‘What a shame I never had your fine mind to help me when I was poring over the maps looking for just such a place. The answer is no, William. There is English territory and French territory. There
is
no in-between. Either we give way or they do, or the whole thing comes to a stop andthere’ll be no marriage and no truce. Oh, and we haven’t solved the problem of the lamb having to remain silent for the entire service either. Do you think he’ll accept that, William? Or is it more likely that he’ll tell them he holds their ships back with his bloody hands each night? What do you think?’
    William saw Derry was smiling even as he announced the certain failure of months of work.
    ‘You have a solution,’ he said. ‘Is that it?’
    Derry raised his beer again, swallowing deeply and putting it down empty.
    ‘Nice drop, that. Yes, I have an answer to your prayers, William Pole. Or an answer to his royal ones, maybe. He’ll get married at Tours, all right. He just won’t be there.’
    ‘What? Is this some sort of riddle, Derry?’ He saw the other man’s eyes grow cold and he swallowed.
    ‘I don’t like being doubted, William Pole. I told you I had an answer and there aren’t three other men in England who could have thought their way through the wisps of fog the French have wrapped around this. You know what they’re like, so cocksure of their own superiority that they can hardly believe we keep thrashing them. It takes a certain kind of arrogance to ignore getting your backside tanned for you so many times, but they do manage it. Don’t ask me how.’ He looked at the confusion in Lord Suffolk’s expression and shook his head.
    ‘You’re too kind for all this, William. It’s what I like about you, mainly, but you need to be an adder-tongued bastard to get one by those sods. We’ll agree to the church in Tours, but our little lamb will be ill at the last moment, when it’s too late to call it off. That’s the sort of news that will set their own tongues wagging with excitement.’ He attempted an atrocious French accent as he went on. ‘Lak ’is fadder! ’Ee istekken with the sickness! Peut-être ’ee will not live. But you’ll be there to exchange rings and vows in his place, William. You’ll marry little Margaret
for
him.’
    ‘I
will not
,’ Suffolk said firmly. ‘I’m already married! How can something like that even be legal? I’m forty-seven, Derry, and married!’
    ‘Yes, you said. I wish I had considered it before. Honestly, William, I don’t think you have the brains of a fish. It’s just for show, isn’t it? A service in Tours, with you standing in for Henry, then a real marriage when she is safely home in England. All legal. They’ll go along because it will have taken them months just to sort out the places at the wedding dinner. We’ll present it so they have no choices left but one.’
    ‘Dear Lord,’ William said faintly. ‘Someone will have to let her know, the girl.’
    ‘No, that is one thing we
won’t
do. If she’s told before the wedding day, the French king will have time to call it all off. Now look, William. We’ve brought this gilded peacock to the table. I am not letting him get away now. No, this is the only way. They find out on the day and the service goes ahead with you. Isn’t that a reason to have a beer for once, William? This is Kentish malted ale, you know, a farthing a pint if I was paying. They do nice chops and kidneys here as well, once I let them back in. Let’s toast your second wedding day, William Pole. Doesn’t your heart