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English court. When they fought for me in Offaly last year I knew they were better-trained soldiers than any of Falkes de Bréauté’s mercenaries.”
    Falcon de Burgh poured William a horn of ale. “They must be allowed to spread their wings. They envy you and me because we fought in France and took castles in Wales. We supped with kings and queens, and now we’ve both married princesses.” Falcon’s eyes swept possessively over Jasmine. “Have no fear, when they have had a taste of England and Wales, when they have experienced for themselves the greed of the court with its petty jealousies and empty promises, they will return better and wiser men.”
    “You are right, of course,” William said. “When they compare the two lives, they will find one infinitely inferior. They’ll go into Hubert’s service, of course.”
    “No!” Jasmine said quickly, then blushed for interfering in men’s decisions.
    Falcon teased, “She’s had one of her visions.”
    Her lavender eyes darkened to a deeper shade of purple. “My reasons are tenfold! Hubert de Burgh is too ambitious. He flaunts his wealth and position. The barons bitterly resent him. Peter des Roches, the Bishop of Winchester, is a deadly enemy who won’t rest until he brings him down.”
    William said quietly, “It was I who got rid of des Roches. He had too great a hold on the young king and had installed his relatives and creatures in all the posts of importance. He intended to control national affairs.”
    Falcon de Burgh said, “I agree with Jasmine. I don’t want them to go into Hubert’s service, though not for the same reasons. Life would be too soft for them. They would become rich and spoiled. I want them to earn preferment … to get their lands and castles by rendering loyal service, not receive them as gifts from an indulgent uncle.” Falcon grimaced. “I hear now that he is married to Princess Margaret of Scotland they travel about with a long train of knights, men-at-arms, scriveners, confessors, body servants, cooks, barbers, and bloody jugglers —ass-kissers, all.”
    “Well”—William laughed—“perhaps his train doesn’t quite run to acrobats. His influence on Henry and Richard is infinitelypreferable to that of Peter des Roches, whose first loyalty will always be Rome. Because of the money owed to the Vatican, the Bishop of Winchester allowed the Pope’s representatives to come into England to supervise the collection of funds. The money is paid through Italian banking houses. Florentine financiers have set up moneylending businesses all over London. Almost too late I discovered every church appointment that paid a fat living went to an Italian. There are actually canons who haven’t bothered to leave Rome. They were paying clerks starvation wages, and my investigations revealed that over seventy thousand marks had left the country. Meanwhile the king’s coffers are empty. England has been drained of money by war debts, Crusades, and greedy foreigners.”
    “What manner of man has Henry turned out to be?” Jasmine asked.
    “That’s his trouble, I think. He isn’t yet a man though he is nigh eighteen. He’s too easily influenced. He is addicted to favorites; luckily it’s Hubert at the moment. Oh, he’s not cruel and wantonly destructive as his father was, but he’s selfish, willful, contemptuous of his barons and advisors, and as a king he is unskilled and unpredictable. It is a pity that Richard wasn’t the eldest son. He is a finer man in every way. He’s a good soldier, highly intelligent, has a natural charm where Henry’s is superficial. The barons look to him to influence the king to fulfill the obligations of his office. Richard also has a genius for building …” He broke off, laughing. “I’ve talked you to death. You must have been wanting to seek your chamber hours since.”
    Falcon de Burgh stood up and stretched his powerful limbs. “I’ll go up, if you’ll excuse me, though I’m sure Jasmine