Richmond finished pouring his wine, studying the contents closely. “Then you have put me in an extremely awkward position,” he said softly. He turned to his friend, his expression one of remorse and sincerity. “You realize we will be fighting onopposite sides, Hotspur. I do not relish the idea of meeting you on the field of battle.”
Henry met his gaze with a countenance of equal depth. “Nor I. But I must do what I feel is correct.”
“You mean you must seek vengeance on your king.”
Hotspur nodded faintly. “There is a measure of truth in that statement, but it is not the entire reason. There are several, those which we have discussed before and those I have never mentioned.”
Richmond pondered his statement a moment, drinking the dark liquid in his cup. “I am sorry for the both of us. You are my good friend and I do not want to see you die.”
“Nor I, you.” Owen Glendower entered the tent, his dark eyes wide at the sight of Richmond le Bec. A frantic soldier had sought him in his tent, informing him that le Bec had arrived and was currently in Hotspur’s company. Shocked that Richmond had made an unexpected appearance, he had hastened to join the conversation.
Gazing at the two English faces, he could see that he had been correct in assuming the topic of discussion. And he further suspected that he would be forced into playing his advantage far earlier than anticipated. In fact, he expected his bargaining pawn to arrive shortly. He’d sent for her when he heard of le Bec’s arrival. The sooner Sir Richmond and King Henry knew of his advantage, the sooner a reasonable truce could be met.
“Greetings, Sir Richmond,” Owen said quietly, moving into the room. “We have not met; my name is Lord Owen Glendower.”
Richmond appraised the shorter man. “I am honored, my lord.”
Owen studied the man a moment; exceedingly large, he was powerfully built and amazingly youthful-appearing for a man in his fortieth year. “We were not expecting you.”
“I sent no word ahead,” Richmond acknowledged. “Truthfully, I have not come to see you, but Henry. My conversation pertains to him alone at the moment.”
Owen moved to a chair by the vizier; in spite of his warring ways and his Welsh ancestry, his blood was not as thick as he would have liked it to be and he was constantly seeking warmth where he could find it. Sitting, he extended his hands to the iron heater. “If you are discussing Hotspur’s role against English oppression, then I am afraid your conversation does concern me,” he eyed Henry. “I would assume that you have informed him of your plans?”
“Not all of them,” Hotspur replied. “He’s aware that I am no longer supporting the crown.”
“And he’s aware of your reasoning?”
“Aye.”
“Is he also aware of his role in our plans?”
Hotspur did not reply for a moment. “We have not yet moved into that particular area.”
Owen nodded faintly, noticing the gleam of curiosity in Richmond’s bright eyes. After a moment, he offered the man a forced smile. “I can see that our words have piqued your interest,” he rubbed his hands together in the heat. “In faith, I can tell you that our inferred plans have stemmed from Hotspur’s resistance to the idea of facing you in battle. You are his friend, Sir Richmond, and he has no desire to kill you.”
Richmond’s jaw ticked faintly. Already, he could see that Owen was confident, ambitious and calculating. However, the man was talking in riddles and Richmond felt himself losing patience with the conversation already.
“Killing is never a true pleasure, friend or foe. It is a necessity,” he said shortly. “If you would be so kind as to inform me how I seem to fit into your grand scheme for world peace, I would be obliged.”
Hotspur’s gaze was unreadable across the dim room, but Owen seemed to take pleasure in the imminent disclosure. When it became apparent that Hotspur had no intention of elaborating, Owen took charge.
“Hotspur does not seem to think that Henry is manageable with you leading his armies,” he began softly. “It would stand to reason, then, that if Henry and I were to do battle against you and the crown’s armies, the struggle for Wales’ independence could never come to a harmonious ending within our lifetime. And I demand to know a measure of peace before I die.”
Richmond crossed his arms as he listened, indicative of his rising agitation. Hotspur rose from his chair, pacing away from the Welshman as he focused on Henry’s mighty knight; already, he could sense the storm coming and hated himself already for being a part of it.
Richmond scratched his chin when Owen paused in his grand speech, his annoyance evident. “So what do you intend to do? Kill me now and be done with it? I can guarantee you that I will not make an easy target.”
Owen smiled at the sarcastic remark, feeling the power of his edge over Henry’s great warrior. “Not at all. We do not want to see you harmed in any way, Sir Richmond. In fact, we loathe the idea of waging war on opposing sides so severely that it seems most logical that we should be fighting with you, not against you.”
Richmond’s annoyance stopped its advance, maintaining a holding pattern as his curiosity increased. “You are suggesting you fight with me?” abruptly, his irritation fled as he focused on the Welsh prince. “Are you suggesting a truce? A surrender, mayhap?”
Richmond was off track, veering away from their line of thought. Before Owen could respond, Hotspur turned from hispost in the corner and focused on his friend. “Nay, Richmond. He’s suggesting that you fightwithus.”
Richmond’s gaze focused on his friend, laced with mild surprise and a good deal of disgust. “Honestly, Henry. How could you let him believe that I would even consider such a thing? It’s not only outrageous, it’s absolutely absurd.”
“Richmond…,” Hotspur shook his head, looking pained and distressed. Owen saw Northumberland’s struggles and hastened to lead the conversation.
“It is not absurd, I assure you. And I also predict that you will pledge your service willingly before this night is through,” Owen smiled at the expression of intolerance on Richmond’s face. When the man turned away from him, moving toward yet another chalice of wine, Owen rose from his chair. “I swear it, Sir Richmond. Before this night is over, you will be leading my ranks.”
