The Falcon Throne (The Tarnished Crown Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Hughe was offensive. But—”
    “But
nothing
!” Balfre insisted. “For Herewart’s son to say my lance is riddled with wormwood, with no more strength to it than a pipe of soft cheese, and by lance mean my cock, never mind we talked of jousting, he questioned my ability to sire a son. He as good as said I wasn’t fit to rule Harcia after Aimery. And that’s treason, Grefin, whether you like it or not.”
    Grefin was shaking his head. “Hughe was wine-soaked when he spoke. So deep in his cup he couldn’t see over its rim. He was a fool, not a traitor.”
    “And now he’s a dead fool,” said Balfre, brutally unregretful. “And a lesson worth learning. My lord—” He took another step forward, so sure of his welcome. “You can see I had no choice. I—”
    “Balfre,” Aimery said heavily, “what I see is a man possessed of no more wit and judgement at the age of three-and-twenty than were his when he was
five
.”
    Balfre stared. “My lord?”
    “You killed a man for no better reason than he had less wit than you!”
    “But Father–I was wronged. You can’t take Herewart’s part in this!”
    Oh Malcolm, Malcolm. A curse on you for dying.
    Aimery swallowed, rage and disappointment turning his blood to bile. “Since last you saw me I have done nothing but ride the Green Isle, hearing complaints and chastising faithless lords who count their own petty needs higher than what is best for this duchy. And now
you
, Balfre, you encourage men to defy my decree against personal combat. What—”
    “It was a
joust
!” Balfre shouted. “You’ve not banned jousting. I was obedient to all your rules. I made sure of a tilt barrier, my lance was well-blunted, and I—”
    “And you killed a man, regardless,” he said, fists clenched. “Much good your obedience has done you, Balfre. Or me.”
    Balfre’s hands were fisted too. “That’s not fair. Father—”
    “
Do not call me Father! On your knees, miscreant, and address me as Your Grace!
”
    Sickly pale, Balfre dropped to the damp ground. “Your Grace, it’s plain you’re weary. You shouldn’t be plagued with the Green Isle. Appoint me its Steward and I’ll—”
    “Appoint
you
?” Aimery ached to slap his son’s face. “Balfre, if I let you loose on the Green Isle there’d be war within a week.”
    “Your Grace, you misjudge me.”
    “Do I?” He laughed, near to choking on bitterness. “And if I were to break my neck hunting tomorrow and the day after I was buried you learned that Harald of Clemen had yet again interfered with Harcian justice in the Marches? Tell me, would you tread with care or would you challenge
him
to a joust?”
    “Harald is a cur-dog who sits upon a stolen throne,” said Balfre, his lip curled. “Thieves and cur-dogs should be beaten, not cosseted. If Harald feared us he’d not dare flout your authority, or entice Harcia’s men-at-arms to break your decrees, or demand unlawful taxes from our merchants and—”
    “So you’d challenge him with a naked sword, and slaughter two hundred years of peace.” Aimery shook his head, stung with despair. “Never once doubting the wisdom of your choice.”
    “Your Grace, there’s no greater wisdom than overwhelming strength and the willingness to use it.”
    And so the decision he’d been avoiding for so long, like a coward, was made for him. He sighed. “I know you think so, Balfre. Grefin—”
    Grefin looked up. “Your Grace?”
    “The Green Isle has been left to its own devices for too long. Therefore I appoint you its Steward and—”
    Forgetting himself, Balfre leapt to his feet. “
No!
”
    “Your Grace—” Alarmed, Grefin was staring. “I’m honoured, truly, but—”
    “Enough, Grefin. It’s decided.”
    “No, it isn’t!” said Balfre. “You can’t do this. Like it or not I’m your heir. By right the Green Isle’s stewardship is mine. You
can’t
—”
    Aimery seized his oldest son’s shoulders and shook him. “I must, Balfre. For your