The king would have been content enough then with his revenge on those threewho led the resistance here. William FitzAlan owed his office as sheriff ofSalop to Stephen, and yet had declared and held the castle for his rival. FulkeAdeney, the greatest of FitzAlan’s vassal lords, had connived at thetreason and supported his overlord wholeheartedly. And Hesdin had condemnedhimself over and over out of his own arrogant mouth. The rest were pawns,expendable but of no importance.

“They are noising it abroad in the town, as I’ve heard,”said Prestcote, “that FitzAlan had already sent his wife and childrenaway before we closed the way north out of the town. But Adeney also has achild, a daughter. She’s said to be still within the walls. They got thewomen out of the castle early.” Prestcote was a man of the shire himself,and knew the local baronage at least by name and repute. “Adeney’sgirl was betrothed from a child to Robert Beringar’s son, of Maesbury, byOswestry. They had lands neighbouring in those parts. I mention it because thisis the man who is asking audience of you now, Hugh Beringar of Maesbury. Usehim as you find, your Grace, but until today I would have said he wasFitzAlan’s man, and your enemy. Have him in and judge for yourself. If he’schanged his coat, well and good, he has men enough at his command to be useful,but I would not let him in too easily.”

The officer of the guard had entered the pavilion, and stood waiting to beinvited to speak; Adam Courcelle was one of Prestcote’s chief tenants andhis right-hand man, a tested soldier at thirty years old.

“Your Grace has another visitor,” he said, when the king turnedto acknowledge his presence. “A lady. Will you see her first? She has nolodging here as yet, and in view of the hour… She gives her name as AlineSiward, and says that her father, whom she has only recently buried, was alwaysyour man.”