With the front door behind five feet or more of snow and ice, they all had been using the patio door to effect entrance, and it was through that door that a booted, spurred, and heavily cloaked figure strode. Before they could say a word, the newcomer was across the room and facing the fire, holding open his cloak to warm his body. He threw back the cloak’s hood and took off a lobstertail helmet, placed it on the mantel, then unwound a long strip of wool from about his face, head, and neck. Then William Collier turned to face them.
Carey and Pete smiled greeting, but Foster did not, nor did either Webster or Krystal. Clad in slacks and chamois-cloth shirt, shod only in slippers, Foster was unarmed, and Collier was between him and the gun cabinet, as well as being fully armed with broadsword, Luger, and dirk.
Foster arose and strolled—casually, he hoped—past the uninvited guest to the gun cabinet, his spine tingling, opened the wooden door, and took out the big Colt Peacemaker, quickly made certain that it was loaded, then brought the hammer to full cock and spun about to level the long barrel at Collier.
“You’re not welcome under my roof, my lord Earl,” he grated, rendering the title mockingly. “I strongly advise you to leave, now. Or have you forgotten the way to the door?”
“You’re acting childish, Foster.” Collier’s tone was superciliously reproving. “But then, ordering someone you consider to be an enemy from your property at gunpoint is just the sort of flamboyant, swashbuckling action I should have expected from a perpetual adolescent such as you.
“But, gun or no gun, I shall not leave until I have said what I came to say, and shooting me would be most unwise, as I travel under the King’s protection.”
Webster snorted. “And this ole boy says you lyin’, Per-fesser. I hear tell the King done took back damn near every-thin’ he give you, so you shore lawd ain’t no fav’rite of his no more, and it jest don’t stand to reason he’d stend you no kinda perteckshun.”
“Although parts of what you say are true, Webster, you are substantially wrong; I am not lying. Yes, that arrogant young puppy who calls himself ‘King’ stripped me of my lands and title, disregarding all that I and I alone had done for him and his ragtag army, simply because of a few intemperate words I spoke in a moment of frustrated anger, when I was suffering both illness and injury.
“Were I a vindictive man, I might blame Foster for all my reverses. I—”
“Me?” exploded Foster. “What the hell did I dor He then spoke’ to Carey, Pete and Krystal. “This yoyo here went a little crazy, I think, when Arthur ennobled him. No sooner had Buddy and I ridden in dog-tired from that Irish business than Earl William sends an arrogant ape to order us to his tent. Then he demands that I immediately ride clear up here to fetch some antibiotics for the goddam head cold he had.”
“And,” Webster took up the sorry tale, <4when Bass tole him he won’t gonna do it, the ole bastid tried to have Bass tied up and whipped. You ever hear tell of suthin’ like thet, Pete? And now he ain’t a earl no more, he wants us to treat him like he’s still a frind. Shit!” The smiles had departed the faces of Carr and Fairley, and they now regarded Collier with plain hostility. Fairley arose and stretched with a crackling of his joints. “You wawnt we should chuck the muthuh out, Bass?” he asked, taking a slow step toward Collier. Hurriedly, Collier held up both hands, palms outward, looking at Foster. “Wait, dammit Before you eject me, hear me out. I advise you all to forget the past and think of the future. As you’ll shortly be aware, Arthur has no future and you’ll be wise to come with me, to Scotland.” “So, that’s it, is it?” snapped Foster. “You’re deserting the King.” “Why not? He deserted me,” replied Collier coldly. “But it’s not really desertion, you know; he is fully aware of my intended destination. Indeed, his own guards are escorting me to the border, under command of Captain William ap Owen and the godson of the prince of boors, Reichsherzog Wolfgang, with some of his Tartar Cossacks. Arthur guaranteed my safety as far as the border, but he warned me that to set foot back across it would be death; apparently he means to declare me outlaw, the thankless young swine. But come back I will, with the victorious Scots, as a conqueror.”