Read The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) for Free Online Page B

faded and, in a different tone, he said, ‘I’m sorry, Ashley.   I’m desperately sorry … but I don’t think you’ve a cat in hell’s chance.   And it’s not just the lack of good leadership.   Very few Cavaliers will fight beside the Scots – and none of the Scots will have anything to do with the Catholics.   What hope can such a clutch of ill-assorted factions have against the New Model?   Cromwell will chew it up and spit out the pieces.’
    The time the silence yawned like a cavern.   Then Ashley said ruefully, ‘I hope you’re wrong … though I suspect you’re not.   But you see, Charles is set on it, if only the Scots will agree.   And what other option is there?’
    ‘Truthfully?’   Will’s smile was faintly twisted. ‘None.’
    ‘None,’ agreed Ashley. ‘So even if failure is guaranteed, I can’t just wash my hands of it, can I?’
    ‘Actually, that might be the most helpful thing you can do.   You and everyone else who has both a brain and enough field experience to recognise when the writing’s on the wall.’
    ‘It’s not that simple, Will.   I can’t just abandon Charles.   Not only because if an invasion does take place, he’ll go with it – but because, if he’s to make a better job of kingship than his father, he needs the right sort of men around him now.   Englishmen without a religious axe to grind … and ones who don’t keep their brains in their breeches.   You see?’
    ‘Only too well.   You’ll go with Charles and, if necessary, you’ll die for him … but not for any of the excellent reasons you’ve just put forward.’   Sir William paused and reached for the bottle.   ‘You’ll do it because you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t.   And so, having established that point, we may as well get drunk.’
    *   *   *
    While two English gentlemen were setting the world to rights over their second bottle, Athenais de Galzain was being taught the error of her ways.
    Assistant-Manager Froissart lectured her on the self-discipline required by good stage-craft.   An actor, he said, was supposed to stick religiously to the play as it had been rehearsed and not plunge headlong into impulsive changes.   This basic rule was for the protection of all because if everyone took it into their heads to do what they liked, no one would know whether they were coming or going.
    Athenais accepted this with meekly downcast eyes and was therefore unaware that Monsieur Froissart’s stern tone accorded ill with the glint of amusement in his face.   She just made numerous sincere apologies and promised never to do such a thing again.
    The second, inevitably, was from Marie d’Amboise.
    ‘You stupid little slut!   What the hell do you think you were doing?   Trying to get a laugh at my expense?’
    ‘No.   It was just that the audience wouldn’t shut up and --’
    ‘Then you wait until they do.’
    ‘I did wait.   If I’d waited much longer, half of them would have gone home.’
    ‘Don’t get smart with me, girl.   Who the hell do you think you are?’
    Your successor, I hope , thought Athenais.   But had the sense not to say it. Instead, knowing that annoying the leading-lady further was only going to store up trouble for herself, she adopted a humble tone and lied. ‘I’m sorry, Madame. It was a mistake.’
    ‘Don’t make it again,’ snapped Marie.   ‘Not if you expect to get another role after this one.’
    And finally, when everyone else had left the theatre, Pauline Fleury gave her a shrewdly considering stare and said, ‘Presumably tonight has taught you something?’
    Athenais sighed.   ‘God, Pauline.   Not you as well.’
    ‘Me as well.   So?’
    ‘So I’ve learned not to get creative in performance,’ came the long-suffering reply.
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘If I get myself into a hole, it’s up to me to dig myself out of it?’  
    ‘Exactly. The one lesson no one else can teach you.’   Pauline grinned suddenly.