‘You’re using a boy to gain influence with his father?’
‘Aimeric’s not a child lured in with a honeyed treat. He’s Guion’s fourth son. He knows that his being here splits his father’s loyalty. It’s half the reason he joined me. He wants his father’s attention,’ said Laurent. ‘If you’re not here to talk to me about Aimeric, why are you here?’
‘You told me that if I had concerns or objections, you would hear arguments in private,’ said Damen. ‘I came here to speak with you about Govart.’
Laurent nodded slowly.
Damen cast his mind back over the days of shoddy discipline. Tonight’s fight had been the perfect opportunity for a captain to step in and begin to take control of the problems in the camp, with scrupulously equal punishments and the message that violence from either faction would not be tolerated. Instead, the situation had worsened. He was forthright.
‘I know that—for whatever reason—you are giving Govart free rein. Perhaps you hope he’ll fall to his own mistakes, or that the more difficulties he causes the easier it will be to dismiss him. But it isn’t working like that. Now the men resent him, but by morning they will resent you for not mastering him. He needs to be brought swiftly under your command, and disciplined for not following orders.’
‘But he is following orders,’ said Laurent. And then, at Damen’s reaction: ‘Not my orders.’
He had guessed that much at least, though he wondered what commands the Regent would have given to Govart. Do as you please and don’t listen to my nephew. He thought, probably something exactly like that.
‘I know you are capable of bringing Govart to heel without it being seen as an act of aggression against your uncle. I can’t believe you fear Govart. If you did, you’d never have set me against him in the ring. If you’re afraid of—’
‘That’s enough,’ said Laurent.
Damen set his jaw. ‘The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to regain face with your uncle’s men. They already talk about you like—’
‘I said that’s enough,’ said Laurent.
Damen was silent. It took a great deal of effort. Laurent was staring at him with a frown.
‘Why do you give me good advice?’ asked Laurent.
Isn’t that why you brought me with you? Instead of speaking those words aloud, Damen said, ‘Why don’t you take any of it?’
‘Govart is Captain and he has resolved matters to my satisfaction,’ said Laurent. But the frown hadn’t left his face, and his eyes were opaque, as though his thoughts had turned inward. ‘I have business to attend to outside. I won’t require your services this evening. You have my leave to retire.’
Damen watched Laurent go, and only with half his mind experienced the urge to throw things. He knew by now that Laurent never acted precipitously, but always walked away and gave himself time and space alone to think. It was now time to step back and hope.
CHAPTER 3
Damen didn’t fall asleep right away, though he had more luxurious sleeping arrangements than any of the soldiers in the camp. His slave pallet was soft with pillows, and he had silk against his skin.
He was awake when Laurent returned, and he pushed himself half up, unsure if he was needed. Laurent ignored him. Laurent, at night when their conversations were done, habitually paid him no more attention than a piece of furniture. Tonight Laurent sat at the table and wrote a dispatch by the light of the table candle. When he was finished, he folded and then sealed the dispatch with red wax and a signet that he did not wear on his finger but kept in a fold of his clothes.
He just sat for a while, after that. On his face was the same inward-turned expression that he had worn earlier that night. Eventually Laurent rose, snuffed the candle with his fingertips, and in the shadowed half-light from the braziers prepared himself for bed.
*
The morning began well enough.
Damen rose and attended to his duties. Fires were doused, tents were packed up and loaded onto wagons, and the men began readying themselves to ride. The dispatch that Laurent had written the night before galloped off to the east with a horse and a rider.
The insults that were bandied about were good-natured and no one was thrown into the dirt, which was about the best that could be hoped for from this group, Damen thought, as he prepared his saddlery.
He became aware of Laurent on the periphery of his vision, pale-haired and wearing riding leathers. He was not the only one paying Laurent attention. More than one head was turned in Laurent’s direction, and a few men had begun to gather. Laurent had Lazar and Aimeric before him. Feeling a flicker of unnamed anxiety, Damen put the saddlery he was working on down and made his way over.