“I thought you were supposed to leave her alone,” he muttered.
Davyss’ hazel eyes flicked to him. “I will never leave her alone.”
Hugh just shook his head, focusing on the map before them. He thought it might be best to change the subject since they still could not agree on Devereux, in any fashion. It was best not to discuss her.
“Most of the country’s barons are in London right now,” he pointed out. “Simon has received favorable responses to his summons for elected officials from each berg.”
“But the barons are threatened by this,” Philip pointed out. “It seems that they were well on board with de Montfort and his ideology until they realized that, by summoning elected officials from their own people, they would be limiting their power.”
Davyss nodded, bracing his enormous arms on the table and leaning on them. He stared at the map; it was of the entire country, pockmarked from years of use. It had once belonged to his father. As he stared, he let out a heavy sigh.
“They have made their bed and now they must lie in it,” he muttered. “But I intend to change that.”
The men around the table looked at him. “How?” Philip asked.
Davyss stared at the map a moment longer before turning away. “I know the majority of you did not agree with my allegiance to Simon but, out of respect for me, you followed,” he looked at the men around the table, his friends. “I would have you know that my loyalty to Henry has not ended. Although I have sworn to Simon, the purpose was two-fold.”
“What purpose?” Philip was still confused.
Davyss began to pace the floor thoughtfully. “As a captive sworn to Henry, I would be powerless,” he lowered his voice. “My knights would be imprisoned, my family’s lands possibly confiscated, my wife taken. This I could not allow. But as a free man sworn to de Montfort, I can accomplish much more for Henry’s cause.”
Hugh stared at him. “You swore, Davyss,” he hissed. “You swore to Uncle Simon that you would serve him. Are you saying you intend to go back on that pledge? What kind of man are you if you do not honor your bond?”
Davyss’ features tensed. “I am a man who would accomplish what he must for the safety of his family and the strength of his country,” his passion was gaining momentum and he threw his arms out. “Do you not see what is happening, Hugh? Simon is giving England to the people, a mindless rabble who have no concept of how to run or maintain a country. This was how the country was back in olden times, before the Bastard, when different kingdoms reigned throughout the country and therewas no unity. It was madness. One king and one country bring peace and prosperity to all. De Montfort threatens to ruin that and I will not stand for it. I do not think Father would have, either.”
Hugh lowered his gaze, jaw ticking. He was reluctant to admit that what Davyss said made sense. “But you gave your word.”
Davyss just looked at him. “Is that all the de Winter name means to you? Our word above sanity? You used to believe as I did, once. Has everything changed between us now, brother?”
Hugh shrugged irritably and looked away. “If he catches wind of subversion, he will kill you.”
“I know,” Davyss nodded. “That is why what I say now will not leave this room. Is that clear, Hugh?”
Hugh looked at him with exasperation. “I do not want to see your death, brother. Do you truly think I would run back to him with this information? Of course not. Truth be known, I do not disagree with you. But whatever happens must be carefully planned and executed.”
Davyss went to his brother, putting his enormous hands on the man’s shoulders. He shook him gently.
“As much as I do not relish being subversive to Uncle Simon, I cannot, in good conscience, follow his politics. I do not agree with them.” He shook his brother again. “Stay with me, Hughie. All will be well in the end.”
Hugh smiled reluctantly; he adored his older brother. Their separation had been hard on him although he was coming to think that perhaps he had been entirely to blame for it. Still, he wasn’t ready to voice those thoughts yet.
“I am with you,” he assured him softly. “It sounds as if you already have something in mind.”
Davyss smiled and pulled him over to the table. “I do,” he thumped the map. “Gather ’round, good men. I have a plan.”
“What plan?”
“It involves Roger Mortimer, the king’s cousin, and us.”
“But Mortimer is a supporter of de Montfort.”
Davyss shook his head slowly. “Not too strongly, which will work well in our favor.”
In the darkness of the night, the de Winter conspirators gathered tight and bred insurrection.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
There was amassive tournament field about a half mile west of the Tower of London, a great arena where knights plied their bloody games. On this busy day, banners of competing houses snapped in the brisk wind as hundreds of people milled about, preparing for the spectacle that was soon to take place.
