“So, Sir Richard, escort you the Lord Commander down to Greenwich but, please, do not hurry too fast. I doubt me the King will have time to see Sir Sebastian today or even tomorrow, anyway, no.”
Nor was old Sir Corwin’s estimate of the royal schedule too far off, Foster discovered. It was a good two hours after sunset of his second night at Greenwich before a brace of Yeomen of the Guard—brave in their scarlet finery, but handling their polearms in a very professional manner—arrived to escort him to his initial audience with King Arthur.
The cramped little suite that had been found for him was not only smaller than his field pavilion, but draftier, and with room only for himself, Sir Ali, and Nugai. He really envied the remainder of his and Sir Richard’s party their tents in the park surrounding the castle.
Formal as had been his summons, there was nothing formal about his greeting in what seemed a small, private dining chamber. With the King were many familiar faces— Reichsherzog Wolfgang, Harold, Archbishop of York, Sir Francis Whyffler, new-made Duke of Northumberland, Par-Ian Stewart, Duke of Lennox, and Sir Paul Bigod, Lord Admiral of King Arthur’s small but pugnacious war fleet.
Arthur allowed only the most perfunctory of courtesies from Foster before waving him to a chair at the table. When his ale Jack was filled and the usual toast to their imminent victory had been downed, the King got directly to the point.
“Sir Sebastian, Bass Foster, Hal, here, has but recently told me many things, things which I confess I found hard to credit, but I cannot doubt his word, so I can but believe. Nonetheless, I still also believe that some guardian angel must have had a hand in guiding you and Master Fairley to me and to England in our time of need, for which-I nightly thank the good God on high.
“The brilliant innovations wrought by Fairley in multi-shooting arquebuses, cannon, stronger gunpowder, transport, vehicles, and this new, simple, inexpensive ignition system have rendered my army well-nigh invincible. And he will soon be rewarded as well as lies within my power.”
It took Foster a moment to realize that Arthur had used his actual name, had not called him “Forster” as on previous occasions.
“Much as I love my dear cousins, Emperor Egon and Wolf, here, fool I’d be to allow such a jewel as you’ve proven yourself to be slip through my fingers and go off to serve the Empire, and, as Hal can tell you, we Tudors are anything but fools.”
He grinned at the Archbishop, who smiled and nodded, between sips of wine.
“Now, I had meant to appoint you Warden of the Scottish Marches this day, for if any man does or can, you have and do hold the respect of our northern neighbors, both as a warrior of some note, a captain, and a man of honor, and that office still may come to you in future years, are we granted true peace.
“But as matters now stand, that tiresome, meddlesome man who pleases to style himself Pope of the West is unlikely to allow England any long term of true peace, not whilst I rule in place of that half Moor-half Dago bitch, Angela—some pure, saintly angel, eh, gentlemen? Tis said that her current light o’ love is some black, heathenish Ghanaian mercenary. Which, I suppose, demonstrates the utter depths of that pagan bastard’s depravity, for all know that her own depravity needs no proof.”
Red-faced with anger, breathing heavily, the monarch stood for a brief moment, silent but for the loud pops of his crackling knuckles, then he raised his wine to his lips and sipped several times. When he replaced it upon the table, his calm had returned.
Therefore, my good Sir Sebastian, in these parlous times, I may well need my Lord Commander of Horse nearer to my capital than the Scottish border, and I have decided to not wait for the surrender of London to see you invested in that office I have chosen for you, lest Cousin Wolf find a way to smuggle you out of the realm.
“Although the actual, formal, necessarily public investiture will not take place until tomorrow morn, out in the audience-chamber, there”— Arthur waved a beringed but strong and callused hand vaguely in the direction of a tapestried wall—”I am urged by Hal and others to apprise you of what will take place, that you not be—in your well-known modesty—dumbstruck and require embarrassing prompting to fulfill your part of the ceremony.