'I prefer to think that it was instinct,' Halt told him.

'Sometimes I feel we should pay more attention to it. In any event, well done. Now go and find Tennyson for me.'

Will grinned and slipped away, hurrying through the crowds who were still thronging the market square, talking excitedly about the events of the day. Within ten minutes, he was riding out the gates of the town, looking for someone who might have seen which direction Tennyson and his group had taken. This close to Dun Kilty, where hundreds of hooves and feet had trampled over the main road all day, there was little chance that he'd find tracks to follow. But once he was clear of the town, he knew he'd find country people – the sort of folk who noticed strangers riding past. It was only a matter of time. He came to a T junction in the road and stopped. Which way? North or south?

'You choose,' he told Tug and released the reins. The little horse tossed his head impatiently and turned right – to the north. It was as good a way of deciding as any, Will thought. He touched the barrel sides with his heels and set Tug to a slow, easy canter north.

Three days later, Halt had Sean call an assembly of the senior nobles in Dun Kilty. They would be the people who would have to ratify the succession of the new King, whoever he might be.

They assembled in the throne room, eyeing each other uncertainly. By now they all knew Halt's identity and knew he was the rightful King. They wondered how he would deal with the people who had accepted Ferris, a usurper, all these years. All too often, people who had been cheated had a tendency to pay back those who had cheated them – and those who had accepted the situation, even unknowingly.

Several of them were discussing this in low tones as they waited for Halt to arrive – until they realised that he wasalready among them. They weren't used to this. Kings were supposed to sweep into a room majestically – not suddenly appear without anyone seeing their arrival. They shifted uncertainly, waiting for the green-and-grey-cloaked stranger to state his terms – and determine their fates.

Sean of Carrick stood at Halt's side. Halt motioned for the nobles to seat themselves. A half circle of benches had been placed in front of the throne. They were surprised when he sat with them. They had expected him to take the dominant position, assuming the throne on Its raised dais.

'My lords, I'll be brief,' Halt said. 'You know who I am. You know how my brother cheated me. You know I have an undeniable claim to the throne of Clonmel.'

He paused and let his eyes roam around the half circle. He saw heads nodding, and eyes dropping from his. He understood their nervousness and decided not to prolong their uncertainty any further.

'What you don't know is that I have no intention of claiming it.'

That got their attention, he thought. Heads came up round the half circle, curiosity mingled with disbelief in their looks. Nobody in his right mind refused the throne, they all thought. He allowed himself a grim smile.

'I know what you're thinking. Well, let me tell you, I have no wish to be a king, here or anywhere else. I've been gone too long to consider this my home any more. I have a home in Araluen. And I have a king I respect. I think you should have the same. Sean, who is next in line to the throne?'

He fired the question at the younger man without warning. Sean rose to his feet, a little taken aback.

`Um… oh… well, in fact, that would be… me,' he said. Halt nodded. He had known as much.

'Then you appear to be the most suitable candidate for the position,' he said. He looked around the room. 'Anybody disagree?'

In truth, there had been more than one who had heard Halt's disavowal of the throne and had felt a quick surge of ambition – a hope that they might be able to assume the crown for themselves. But the speed of events, and the gleam in Halt's eye, told them that it might be a bad idea to continue to nourish such ambitions. There was a hasty mumble of assent from the circle of nobles.

Halt nodded. 'I didn't think you would.'

'Just a moment! I certainly disagree!' Sean said.

The Ranger turned to him. 'You have a clear and unchallenged claim to the throne. Do you not want it?'

He saw Sean hesitate and knew that he was an intelligent young man. There were many good reasons not to take the crown, Halt knew. A king's hold on the throne in this country could be tenuous. Sean would need to be a strong and alert ruler at all times. And he would be surrounded by a group of venal self-seeking nobles who would take any opportunity to undermine him if it advanced their own interests. All good reasons to refuse the crown.

But before Sean could answer, he rephrased his question.

'Let me put that another way. Is there anyone here you would prefer to see on the throne?' He indicated the half circle of nobles, who were watching the byplay between Sean and Halt with growing fascination.

And that was the crux of it. The same reasons why Sean might refuse the crown were also the ones that made it imperative that he accept it.

To a man, the group assembled here was self-seeking and self-centred. If one of them took the crown, it wouldn't be long before others contested the choice and the Kingdom was thrown into disarray. Sean was the only one among them with a rightful claim to the throne and the strength of character and purpose to command their loyalty. And at heart, Sean knew it. Reluctantly, he took a step forward, towards Halt.

'Very well. I accept,' he said. It might not be what he wanted, but it was what the country needed and he was enough of a patriot to recognise that fact. Halt waited a few seconds, then turned to the others.

'Anyone object?' he asked – and it may have been a coincidence that his left hand dropped casually to the hilt of his saxe knife as he did so. The nobles hastily agreed that no, nobody objected, fine choice and congratulations King Sean.

Halt turned to his nephew. 'Now, Sean, I have one condition, before I formally renounce any claim I might have to the throne. We've broken the back of the Outsiders' movement in Clonmel. But they're still entrenched in the other five kingdoms. I want them rolled up, disbanded and their leaders imprisoned. With Tennyson out of the way and discredited, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. A bit of firm action and they'll collapse like a house of cards. And I'm sure the other five kings won't object.'

But Sean was shaking his head. 'That'll take a strong military force,' he said. 'I don't have the men for it, unless I leave Clonmel unprotected. And I'm not prepared to do that.'

Halt nodded approvingly. The young man's answer told him that he'd been right in selecting him as the new King.

'Which is why I'm willing to write to King Duncan in Araluen and request that he send an armed force of, say, one hundred and fifty men to serve under you: knights, men at arms and a company of archers. If you agree.'

Sean considered the offer. 'And when we've got rid of the Outsiders, this force would return to Araluen?' No ruler would be eager to see a powerful foreign force on his own land without such an assurance.

'You have my word on it,' Halt said.

Agreed,' Sean said and they shook hands. He glanced at the group of nobles and they hastened to mumble their agreement. 'I'll be needing levies of troops from all of your estates as well,' he said, and again heads nodded round the half circle.

We can iron out the details later,' Halt said. 'Right now, Horace is waiting for me and, unless I miss my guess, he'll be hungry. Gentlemen, I'll leave you to discuss matters such as the coronation.' He smiled at Sean, one of his rare genuine smiles. 'With your permission, your majesty?'