Silverhawk by Barbara Bettis Page A

take you?”
    Henry didn’t give up easily. But neither did he. Giles blew out a breath. If Richard wanted him to remain in England, why hadn’t the king told him? He’d served the man for years, held royal trust second only to Mercadier in that mercenary band.
    Damn. He hated being manipulated, even by his sworn liege. He had volunteered for this mission for one reason only—revenge. Yet he did owe duty, allegiance to Richard, if not to England.
    Giles fisted and unfisted his hands. A lifetime of searching ended right here. Why should he turn his back on this chance at revenge? He’d settle the old score tonight. And afterward, if he decided to track down the traitor, he’d do so alone. Except for his men who knew how he thought, how he worked, he trusted only himself.
    Right now, he must figure a way to approach Osbert. The number of soldiers gathered at Langley might present a problem, but he was not about to let his chance slip by. The wrong done so long ago would be avenged. A flick of a dagger would settle the score. Giles could do it undetected and be on his way before anyone knew the old man was dead.
    He could.
    He wouldn’t.
    He wanted Osbert to know why. He wanted the arrogant bastard to look him in the eyes once more and realize who killed him.
    “What are you planning?” Henry’s voice interrupted Giles’ thoughts. “If it can be postponed, we could use your help to stop this traitor.”
    “Are you sure you can trust me?”
    “Not entirely.” At least Henry was honest. “Richard trusted you. I suppose that’s something.”
    “Richard trusts the man I serve.”
    “And that man trusts you.”
    Giles’ soft “huh” was sarcastic. “You saw how the people reacted earlier. I’m a murderer. Can you have confidence in an outlaw?”
    Henry’s bark of laughter surprised him. “They fear tales they hear from soldiers who’ve returned from the war. I know how those stories can be exaggerated. There was a time I did it myself, when I was younger.”
    Giles shook his head. “They’re true. I have murdered. Every village, every town, every castle the war crushes, people have died who should not.”
    “So, the boy was right?”
    Giles’ head jerked around. Henry had heard that conversation? “No. Never women and children.” In that brief moment, scenes from the past swept through his mind. His jaw flexed.
    “I’ve heard of Silverhawk,” Henry reminded. “I know the rules you impose on your men.”
    “Then you know the penalty for breaking them. I’ve enforced those rules. Doesn’t that make me a murderer?”
    “It makes you a commander to be respected. And feared.”
    Giles sighed, slanted a glance at the other man. “What do you want of me?”
    “I have met Scotland’s king,” Henry said. “I know some of the lords who usually join him at court, so it won’t seem suspicious when I suddenly appear. If I leave tomorrow, I can make it to Scotland almost as quickly as Paxton can. With luck he’ll stop along the way, and I’ll be there before him.”
    “Why do you need my help? You’ve got it all planned.”
    Anger flashed across Henry’s face again. “We can’t be certain of his plan. Someone should follow his party from here. If he keeps to the main road, he can be tracked easily. But there’s a chance he will visit other lords. I don’t think Langley knows the man’s intentions, or we might pry the details from him.”
    Henry’s brows lifted. “Well?”
    Giles was silent. Finally he asked, “What about Lord Roark? Wouldn’t he want to settle old scores?”
    “If my sister’s husband knows everything, he’ll insist upon going. But he’s needed to keep watch at home. You know we can’t risk involving anyone else. That narrows the selection to one of my men or—you.”
    The threat might be real, but if Henry headed for Scotland to warn King William, Giles would not be needed. He refused to be distracted from his revenge.
    “No.” His words were soft but inflexible.