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a protest. ‘But, Your Grace!’
    Edward turned slowly towards Wykeham. ‘You disapprove?’ The ice in his voice was unmistakable.
    Wykeham’s already heightened colour deepened. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace, but Ned Townley … Perhaps you have not heard the rumours, but surely youhave heard of the drowning of Sir William of Wyndesore’s page?’
    ‘Ah.’ The King rolled his eyes. ‘
That
nonsense. Mistress Alice assured me that Townley could not be guilty, he lay with her maid that night.’
    Thoresby closed his eyes. Mistress Alice. What was she up to?
    ‘Still, Your Grace, there are those who yet whisper …’ Wykeham began.
    ‘Indeed. That is just the point, William. He is condemned when he is innocent. Townley is best out of the way until Wyndesore convinces his men of their mistake, or at least until tempers cool. We would not want my son’s spy attacked, would we?’ Edward pointed his dagger at Thoresby again. ‘And his man Archer was Townley’s captain, did you know that, William? Archer was Henry of Grosmont’s captain of archers. Who better to take charge of Townley for now?’
    Wykeham’s tall frame trembled. With rage, Thoresby was certain. The privy councillor’s usually expressionless face registered indignant disbelief. ‘Your Grace, I beg you. I must protest for yet another reason.’
    King Edward sighed, leaned back in his chair, studied his nails, cleaned one with the tip of his dagger. ‘You grow tedious, William.’
    Thoresby drank his wine and thanked his good fortune. The King might rethink his preference for Wykeham if the man proved intractable.
    Wykeham licked his lips. ‘Your Grace, I am quite sure that the Duke of Lancaster opposes my promotion. And as Ned Townley is his man, I am frankly uneasy.’
    ‘So I can see.’ The King glanced at Thoresby. ‘ThisTownley. Was he not the one who found that rogue Sebastian for me?’
    ‘With Captain Archer’s aid, yes, Your Grace.’
    Edward grinned, turned back to Wykeham. ‘He has been trained to obey orders. He is my son’s man. He will obey me, William.’
    Wykeham nodded, lifted his cup to his lips with surprisingly steady hands, and sipped carefully. ‘Who travels north with Ned Townley, Your Grace?’
    ‘It will be the same as with the other groups I have dispatched. Soldiers, a priest or a friar – several in some cases.’ Edward suddenly pounded the table. ‘I know what will let you rest easy. Don Ambrose will accompany Townley. He is loyal to you, and an Austin friar – though they like to preach against pluralists, here is one devoted to you. That should impress the saintly Cistercians. What do you say, William?’
    Thoresby was puzzled. An Austin friar on such a mission?
    Wykeham’s long face wore a pained expression. ‘Your Grace, I had thought to take Ambrose into my household.’
    ‘All the better. Knowing he is to reside in your household on his return, the man will be doubly dutiful.’
    Wykeham glanced over at Thoresby, who closed his eyes slowly, opened them, gave one almost invisible nod.
Accept the King’s plan. There is nothing you can do
.
    Wykeham understood. He gave the King a little bow. ‘Forgive me for questioning the plan, Your Grace. I can see now that all will be well.’
    Well, he was a fool if he meant that, Thoresby thought. Something odd was behind this plan. Hecould not help suspecting his old enemy, Alice Perrers.

Four
The King’s Bishop?
     
    E arly the following day Thoresby received an invitation to dine with Wykeham. He had expected the invitation; it had been obvious that the King’s choice of escorts for the journey to Fountains had disturbed the privy councillor. Thoresby accepted the invitation with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
    He made his way to Wykeham’s quarters in the early afternoon, amused by their location in the same tower in which Wykeham had resided as Clerk of Works, supervising the renovation and expansion of the King’s castles. Wykeham lived among the