The Warrior's Game Read Online Free PDF

you might know her better.”
    Michel’s exasperation grew. Damn him, John was dodging again. “Sire, you know I dare spend no public time near the widow for fear the whole of the court takes note of my interest. That would only add fuel to what already smolders among your nobles.”
    “Piss on de Vesci,” John snapped, speaking of the lord of the powerful northern keep of Alnwick and waving away the possibility of rebellion. “Plot as he may that cur is nothing but a hotheaded oath-breaker, a miser who refuses to pay the scutage he rightfully owes his liege. No man trusts him enough to follow him into a garderobe much less to war.”
    Michel eyed his king, wondering if John purposefully blinded himself. It was no longer only the northern barons who whispered of rising. The lord of Dunmow had joined the malcontents, a man whose extended family included the earls of Essex, Oxford and Hereford. It was said he'd been driven to it after John's royal justiciar Bishop Peter des Roches had delivered heavy-handed justice to a baron accustomed to gentler treatment.
    “Let them bare their swords. That frees me and mine to squash them like the insects they are,” John continued, his voice rising with each word.
    Although a lift of Michel’s shoulders acknowledged his monarch’s sentiment, he didn't have his employer's confidence in the nobles John counted on as loyal, men like the earl of Pembroke and John’s half-brother, the bastard earl of Salisbury. Such was the legacy of being thrust into a world that had rejected him for most of his score and ten years. Michel knew without doubt there wasn’t a man in the world who wouldn’t break his word given the right motivation, for he'd been that motivation more than once.
    His rancor vented, the king continued in a quieter tone. “You'll have almost a month here. After I spend a few days at Windsor I'll move on to Kensington and the queen. That should be long enough for you to convince the lady to choose you as her husband.”
    If Michel had allowed himself the expression he would have gaped. For the lady to choose him?! Lady de la Beres would never choose him, not if he were the last man on earth.
    And then Michel saw it, the whole of John's ploy. The king counted on d’Oilly to complain over Lady de la Beres’ new bride price and how he’d been stripped of her properties. Then John, being John, would see to it that a rumor circulated about a second offer for the lady’s hand, Michel's offer. Noble outrage would follow. Pretending to bow to public pressure, John would give the lady the right to choose her own husband, knowing it wouldn’t be Michel she chose.
    And that would leave Michel right where John wanted him, with only the noble heiress John had first suggested. Michel knew well what would happen after that. Every gently born man in the kingdom would come for him with their swords bared, men far more skilled at war than the boys who usually challenged him. Before long, Michel's life would be at an end.
    As Michel felt the future he wanted slipping from his grasp, suspicion ran wild. Was his death part of John's plot? That heiress of John’s was also an orphan. If Michel died after their wedding, she, along with her income of several hundred pounds a year, would simply return to John’s custody and control.
    Michel wanted to draw his sword and swing it until there was nothing left whole in this room. Instead, he clenched his fists and bowed his head, acknowledging he had been outmaneuvered, at least momentarily.
    “As you will, sire,” he agreed, his tone as cold as his rage was hot. “I’ll serve as guardian of your wards until your return.” He turned and started toward the door.
    “Do I catch a hint of concern in your voice, Sir Michel?” John called after him, sounding well satisfied, indeed. “Don’t fret. You’ll have what you want. Remember, I have promised.”

Michel made no response as he departed around the steady stream of water-bearers. It