The Prince of Poison by Pamela Kaufman

Author:Pamela Kaufman [Kaufman, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction, Middle-Ages, Romance
ISBN: 1400080630
Amazon: B000GCFBOW
Publisher: Crown
Published: 2006-04-10T22:00:00+00:00

Enoch and Thorketil built a wall on the far side of the Wanthwaite River. Then they pounded tall, pointed palisades slanted to impale horses. I sent the women to clean out the labyrinth. By the end of the month, it, too, was lined with rough palisades, and the sliding door was oiled with a strong lock inside. Meantime, the women had beaten most of the rats to death; what they missed, they turned over to two large feral cats.

Thus we prepared.

“Be it possible to rule a country wi’out fightin’?” Thorketil asked two days later. “Otherwise, why have a king at all?”

“Law replaces fighting.” I said. “The king or someone could enforce the law.”

“Does law replace a king?” he pressed, as if he hadn’t heard.

The concept of a king was strong; every clan had its chief, every tribe its leader.

“We mun fight to enforce the law!” Enoch cried, showing his Scottish bias. “Our men con defeat any king!”

“We go to court to enforce the law,” I said. “We don’t need a king.”

Everyone stared, but Enoch instantly capitulated. “History be on yer side, Alix. Whan Richard war in Normandy, his justiciar Hubert Walter ruled England wi’out an army and wi’out a crown, and he used the courts richt enow.” He laughed bitterly. “Boot nu we be ruled by a king here in England. Quhan auld Hubert finally died, King John sayed, Nu fer the ferst time, I be truly king of England. By that, he meant he would fight!”

The killing had begun.

“Perhaps if he retook Normandy, he might leave England alone,” I said.

“Aye, except he’ll ne’er take it becase he doesna fight weil.” He sighed. “’Tis perplexing.” He fretted his brow. “His fantastick cell be better than mast, they say, boot warriors doona need to be canny, just to be brave.”

“And lucky,” Thorketil added.

“Aye.” Enoch drank again. “Ond they mustna gae to sleep on the job. The king gaes fishin’ or fades . . .”

“Fades? How?”

“Gits distracted, loses purpose, taks a nap; I doona knaw.”

He stared without speaking.

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