Page 55 of The Earl

Understandably, Bishop Salerno’s eyes widened.

“With his connection to France, the possibility of Louis’s support . . . we should be in good standing. All twenty barons remain at the ready, thanks to Kennaugh’s victory at Dromsley. He has sent men to London, along with Stanton and Noreham.”

“I do not doubt you have the men necessary to claim victory.”

John had no mercenary armies, and he’d lost crucial support from his barons over the winter months. Even now, he continued to increase taxes, something that angered men on both sides of the divide. Aye, it would be easier to bring about negotiations with John’s treasured London under their control, but if that failed . . .

“You asked for my help once.”

Conrad was well aware of it.

“And you gave it. For that, we are grateful.”

“And why, exactly, did you come to me?”

He was confused. “We had not the funds to bribe Bande de Valeur to return to France. To convince them not to fight for John.”

“Think on it, Licheford. You came to me because . . .”

“The Church has more money, more influence, than even the king himself.”

He knew something. Salerno knew something Conrad did not.

“Guala Bicchieri is in England.”

Conrad startled. “The pope’s nuncio?”

“Aye, and his papal legate as well.”

A chill crept up his back, and suddenly it felt like the inky darkness of night was closing in on them, even cloistered as they were in their well-lit pathway. This did not bode well.

“He moves quickly in the king’s interest on behalf of the pope.”

Conrad nearly cursed, catching himself at the last moment.

The pope only supported King John because he’d pledged himself to crusade. He manipulated Rome as surely as he did his own people.

“Already word spreads. It’s said he intends to punish English clerics who support the rebellion, to remove them from their positions.”

This was not welcome news. Conrad did not need to be told what would happen if Bicchieri were successful. Threatened in such a way, they would lose support from the Church.

“A few of us will stand against him still, but most”—Salerno frowned—“will not.”

Conrad could feel his face getting warm, his hands forming fists at his sides. This would undo everything they had fought for. It might very well end the rebellion.

Taking a deep breath, reminding himself of how little his anger would accomplish, Conrad released his fingers from their firm grasp. He thought of the men likely already camped outside the city’s walls. Of each of the pieces they’d put in place. And of their cause itself.

It was right. And just. And must prevail.

“It appears, Your Grace, that we must take London,” he said, repeating Salerno’s words. “And soon.”

The bishop nodded. “May God be with you.”

Conrad hoped he was, for luck certainly did not appear to be.