“Earl’s not in residence,” said a passerby.
Tadhg spun. “The Marshal is not here?”
The man, clearly wealthy, looked Tadhg over, then turned his skeptical gaze to Maggie, and his suspicion dropped away. “Nay. The whole household cleared out after Prince John….” He dipped his head to the side, as if the silence would tell all.
Tadhg came down the steps. “After Prince John what?”
The man squinted at him. “Where have you been, man? The prince has claimed the king is dead.”
Tadhg rocked back on his heels. “What?”
The man nodded, coming nearer, the prospect of being the first to share gossip too powerful a lure.
“Indeed, Prince John is in a frenzy. He says his brother the king died on return from crusade, and has claimed the crown for himself. Noblemen are swarming to his banner like flies. We merchants, of course, stand aloof,” he said proudly. “For now.”
Tadhg’s mind reeled.
Maggie came down the steps beside him. “Tell me sir,” she said, her
voice soft and earnest. “Is everyone saying this, that King Richard is dead?”
“Oh, well, my lady, there are some rumors that the king was captured on his return home, but…can you imagine that? Madness, to say our lionhearted king, victor of Acre, could be captured in some dirty little mountain town, disguised as a servant.” He dismissed the absurdity with a wave of his hand. “But dead…dead is far more likely.”
He swept another look at Tadhg. Perhaps he did not like what he saw this time, for he straightened and stepped back. “Still, we shall see who is in the right and who is not, and in any event, as a result of all their machinations, war is pending and business is booming,” he finished brightly.
“War?” exclaimed Maggie.
“Indeed, my lady. Prince John has the ear of the French king, and between the two of them, they’re amassing armies, ready to claim England for the prince. Or rather the…king.” He looked uncomfortable at his own confusion as to whom, precisely, was his king. “And they’ll not thank people for making any claims that could get in their way.”
Tadhg lifted his head slowly. “Do you think your king dead, merchant?”
For a simple question, it had the force of a command, and the man took a step back.
“I don’t see where it matters whether I do or whether I do not,” he said with prim dignity. “I make my money on wax candles, and every side is going to need candles. That is how and where and why I make my money and it is good enough for me. I intend to pledge my allegiance whichever way they wish me to. The wax cares not if it is melted by a Frenchman or the prince’s man or the king’s, so why should I? You cannot fight the powers that be,” he concluded, looking angrily at Maggie, perhaps because it did not seem wise to look angrily at Tadhg.
“So you do not think your king is dead, but you do not care,” Tadhg summarized coldly.
Maggie rested a hand on his forearm and smiled at the man. “Thank-you for your explanation and your time.”
“My lady,” he said, nodding and starting to turn away. Tadhg’s words stopped him.
“Where has the Marshal gone?”
The man shifted the packages in his arms. “No one knows. Prince John claimed the king was dead, and the next day, the Marshal disappeared. Many men are flocking to the prince’s banner, you know. Hard to stand against two armies, and for what? Some say the Marshal has merely done the same, joined the prince’s rebellion. If a rebellion it be.”
He shrugged and moved on, glancing back at them, then turning to look down the hill at the bay, filled with boats and soldiers. Then he hurried away faster, clutching his packages to his chest.
Tadhg reached for Maggie’s hand. “I am not yet done,” he vowed harshly.
He bustled her past more elegant homes until they drew up at another expensive stone residence, with three chimneys puffing out smoke. Once again, Tadhg hammered on the door.
Once again, they were sent away.
“He’s not to be bothered by,” the door guard looked them up and down, “strangers.”
“Tell him,” Tadhg paused, then lowered his voice. “Tell him the king’s sword arm is here.”
“The king? The king is dead,” the man said with a sneer, but he looked uncomfortable saying it.