Read The King's Witch for Free Online

in Famagusta; the sun had just set. He had taken Cyprus with no trouble, and he expected to have Acre and then Jerusalem soon as well. That would require some planning and force, but he foresaw nothing that would stop him. He looked at the man on the other couch, who was part of the planning.
    “Conrad did hold Tyre against Saladin, after Hattin, when everywhere else in the kingdom went down. He must have some wits.”
    “A child could hold Tyre,” Humphrey de Toron said. He lounged on the divan, his legs stretched out, his long hands still. “It’s on a rock just off the coast, with a connecting mole no wider than a wagon axle. After Hattin, the kingdom was in chaos. Conrad took the opportunity to make himself great. He cares nothing for the Crusade; he works always in his own interest. He refused to let Queen Sibylla and King Guy into the city, back when Sibylla was certainly the rightful Queen, and he would not help them against Acre. It’s said he treats with Saladin.”
    Richard had a lute in his lap, his legs propped on a stool in front of him. He plucked a run of notes from it. “Yet he’s got some powerful support, those northern barons, the Church. You’ve known Saladin awhile.”
    “Some years. He’s a man of broad tastes. He loves poetry and music as much as war. I’ve always enjoyed talking to him. He’s a Kurd, also, not an Arab, not a Turk. These are important distinctions.”
    “Then how did he become Sultan?”
    “Quick thinking, loyalty in the right places, and a few wellchosen murders. A point of some interest to you: He prefers to fight on Fridays.”
    “You were his hostage?”
    “Briefly. It was not unpleasant.”
    “You speak to him in Arabic.”
    “Yes. He doesn’t speak French.”
    A page stepped just inside the curtain and bowed. “My lord Philip de Rançun.”
    Humphrey stood and backed to the wall, deferring to the King’s cousin. Rouquin walked in, glanced once at Humphrey, and faced Richard. He had obviously just gotten off his horse. He still wore his mail, but the hood hung down his back and his short hair stood on end. Richard laid the lute down beside him and put his feet on the floor. They had not talked much since Richard forced him into the army with Guy de Lusignan, and the King was a little unsure of Rouquin’s temper.
    His cousin did not bow. “I’ve got Isaac trapped in a monastery out on the northeastern cape. He was trying to run to the mainland, but now he’s asking to talk. If you want Guy to do that, you’ll have to send to him; he’s in the west somewhere chasing his tail.”
    “Good work,” Richard said, mildly. He sat down again, set one foot on the stool, and picked up the lute. “I knew you’d get him.”
    “It wasn’t easy.”
    Richard smiled wider and thumbed a laughing note out of the lute. His left hand moved on the frets. “That’s why I sent you.”
    Rouquin grunted at him. Richard flicked a glance at Humphrey and back to his cousin. He said, “Guy was useless?”
    “Worse,” Rouquin said. “He cannot make his mind up. I rode out on him.”
    Richard shrugged. There was another rumor, but this sounded more like the truth. “Still. We need him to have some respect again, when we get to the Holy Land. Where there will be honor enough even for you, Rouq’. Be patient. You are my right arm; I can’t do anything without you.”
    “God, you talk,” Rouquin said. He scratched in his beard; he was frowning, but Richard could see that he understood the purpose now. He had used up his fury on Isaac anyway. He said, “ What do you want me to do now?”
    “Go down to Akrotiri and fetch the women back here. We sail as soon as Isaac’s secured.”
    “Why do you have me herding women?”
    “Maybe they’ll teach you better manners,” Richard said.
    Rouquin snorted at him again and left, brushing through the curtain. Richard studied the empty doorway a moment. “But probably not,” he said.
    Humphrey de Toron came back to the divan