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

his advantage, York mused as he read. When he had married Cecily Neville, the house of York had gained the strength of a clan and bloodline so wide and varied that they would surely come to rule, regardless of the married names or the particular coat of arms. He was only grateful that they had decided upon York as their champion. A man standing with Nevilles could rise far, it seemed. Standing against them, poor devils like Somerset could not rise at all.
    York nodded at last, satisfied. He took up his own quill and dipped it, adding his name to the end of the list and continuing on in decorative swirls, showing his pleasure.
    It was too early to declare for the throne, Salisbury had convinced him of that. Too many of the king’s noblemen would take up arms without a second thought, the moment a usurper made himself known. Step by step, the path lay ahead of him, if he chose to walk it. The life of a newborn was a delicate thing. York had lost five of his own to distempers and chills.
    He smiled at the scribe setting lead weights on the corners of the scroll. As Protector, the Great Seal of the throne of England was his to use, the final stage. Four common men had stood by for the entire discussion, heads bowed and waiting for the part they had to play. When York nodded to them, they approached the table, laying out the two halves of the silver Seal and collecting a bowl of wax from where it had been warmed to liquid over a tiny brazier. All the men there watched as the Royal Seal clicked together and the image of King Henry on his throne was covered over in blue wax. One of the men, the Chaff-wax, used a small knife to trim the disc as it formed and began to cool, while another laid lengths of ribbon on the document itself. It was the work of skilled craftsmen and those present watched with interest as the warm disc was upturned and pressed on to the parchment, staining the page with oil. The halves were lifted away and a thin four-inch medal of wax remained, pressed down on to the ribbons until it could not be removed without ripping the paper or breaking the seal itself.
    It was done. The bearers of the Seal busied themselves clearing away the tools of their trade, placing the silver halves back into silk bags and then a locked box of the same polished metal. After bowing to the Protector, they trooped out in silence, their part finished.
    York rose, clapping his hands together. ‘There is a child made Prince of Wales, heir to the throne. My lords, I am proud of England today, as proud as a father of his own son.’
    He looked to Somerset, his eyes bright. Even then, Somerset might have ignored it if one of the others hadn’t laughed aloud. Stung, the earl dropped his hand to his sword’s hilt, facing York across the table.
    ‘Explain your meaning, Richard. If you have the courage to accuse a man of dishonour and treason, do so clearly, without French games.’
    York smiled more widely, shaking his head.
    ‘You mistake me, Edmund. Let your choler bleed away! This is a day of joy, with King Henry’s line secured.’
    ‘No,’ Somerset replied, his voice deepening and growing hoarse. He was forty-eight years old, but he had not grown weak or stooped as his hair greyed. He rose slowly from his chair with his shoulders squared, his anger pushing him on. ‘I believe I will have satisfaction, Richard. If you would speak false rumours, you must also defend them. God and my right arm shall surely decide the outcome. Now apologize and beg my forgiveness, or I will see you tomorrow dawn, in the yard outside.’
    If not for the table between them, he might have drawn and struck at York then and there. Others in the room touched their own hilts nervously, ready to act. York kept his own hands away from his sword, knowing he was in reach of a sudden lunge and that Somerset was damnably quick. Carefully, he too came to his feet.
    ‘You threaten the Protector and Defender of the Realm,’ York replied. His voice had grown soft