Fortress of Mist Read Online Free Page B

can trust here in your absence?”
    “Can anyone be trusted with such wealth at stake?” Thomas answered.
    The earl shrugged. “It is a risk placed upon all of us. I, too, am merely responding to the orders of King Edward II.” Darkness crossed his face. “I pray my request need not become an order. Nor an order resisted. Sieges are dreadful matters.”
    Unexpectedly, Thomas grinned. “That is a well-spoken threat.” Thomas continued his grin. “A siege of Magnus, as history has proven, is a dreadful matter for both sides.”
    “True enough,” the earl admitted. He steepled his fingers below his chin. “But Magnus cannot fight forever.”
    “It needn’t fight forever. Just one minute longer than its attackers.”
    The earl laughed again, then became serious.
    “This request for help in battle comes for a twofold reason,” the earl said. “First, as you know, earldoms are granted and permitted by order of the king of England, Edward II, may he reign long. The power he has granted me lets me in turn hold sway over the lesser earldoms of the north.”
    A scowl crossed the Earl of York’s wide features. “It puts me in a difficult position. Earls who rebel are fools. The king can suffer no traitors. He brings to bear upon them his entire fighting force. Otherwise, further rebellion by others is encouraged. You have—rightly or wrongly—gained power within Magnus. You will keep it as long as you swear loyalty to me, which means loyalty to the king.”
    Thomas nodded. Sarah, who had given him the plan to conquer Magnus, had anticipated this and explained. But did loyalty include joining forces with one who carried the strange symbol?
    Once again, Thomas forced himself to stay in the conversation instead of dwelling upon the earl’s ring. After all, the man in front of him was not asking for allegiance to the symbol, but to the king of England.
    “Loyalty, of course, dictates tribute be rendered to you,” Thomas said.
    “Both goods and military support when needed, which I in turn pledge to King Edward,” the earl said. “Magnus is yours; that I have already promised. Your price to me is my price to the king. We both must join King Edward in his fight against the Scots.”
    Thomas knew barely thirty years had passed since King Edward’s father had defeated the stubborn tribal Welsh in their rugged hills to the south and west. The Scots to the north, however, had proven more difficult—a task given to Edward II on his father’s death. Robert the Bruce led the Scots, whose counterattacks grew increasingly devastating to the English.
    Reasons for battle were convincing, as the earl quickly outlined. “If we do not stop this march by our northern enemies, England may have a new Scottish monarch—one who will choose from among his supporters many new earls to fill the English estates. Including ours.”
    Thomas nodded to show understanding. Yet behind that nod, a single thought continued to transfix him. The symbol. It belonged to an unseen, unknown enemy. One the prisoner in the dungeon refused to reveal.
    “Couriers have brought news of a gathering of Scots,” the earl explained. “Their main army will go southward on a path near the eastern coast. That army is not our responsibility. A smaller army, however, wishes to take the strategic North Sea castle at Scarborough, only thirty miles from here. I have been ordered to stop it at all costs.”
    Thomas thought quickly, remembering what Sarah had explained of the North York moors and its geography. “Much better to stop them before they reach the cliffs along the sea.”
    The earl’s eyes widened briefly in surprise. “Yes. A battle along the lowland plains north of here.”
    “However—”
    “There can be no ‘however,’ ” the earl interrupted.
    Thomas could match the earl in coldness. “However,” he repeated, flint-toned, “you must consider my position. What guarantee do I havethis is not merely a ploy to get my army away from this