Alain beamed at him in answer, then turned to ride alone toward the crowd.

They murmured in awe as he rode up to them—and in among them. They parted, scarcely able to believe they were so close to their Prince—or that he dared come into their midst when they held weapons. Then a voice shrieked, "Haul him down!"

Three men turned on the rabble-rouser and clouted him cold.

"I am your Prince!" Alain called out. "Why have you come? Tell me your grievances, that I may address them!"

"Don't trust him!" a voice shrilled. "He's a lord! They only want to use …"

A meaty thud cut him short.

"We will hear you!" a dozen voices shouted.

"Nay, it is I who shall hear you!" Alain called in reply. "Speak! Do your lords' soldiers beat you? Do your lords starve you or force you to work so long on their lands that you cannot tend your own? Tell me!"

The crowd milled about for a few moments, muttering to one another; then a man called out, "Why must we live in mud huts while your kind live in castles?"

"There will always be rich and poor, alas," Alain answered. "Were I to forsake my castle and give you all I own, it would be gone in a fortnight, and some other man would fight his way to owning that castle and making you work for him."

"Not if we killed all the lords!" another man shouted.

"Some of your own would gather more and more bullies about them," Alain answered, "and seek to make you all their slaves. Their grandchildren might begin to think they have some obligation to you, but how many of you would have died in misery by then?"

"How many of us shall die in misery now?" demanded another.

"Well asked," Alain replied, turning toward the voice. 'Tell me who lives in misery, and I shall give him food and clothing of my own. If you know any old folk who dwell in poverty and are like to die in misery, give me their names and places, and I will send helpers to them."

The crowd muttered in surprise. Then someone shouted, "We should not have to come to the King for that! There should be assurance!"

"Your lords should provide," Alain returned, "but if they do not, you can seek redress from me."

The crowd erupted in amazed conversation.

"I pledge it!" Alain cried. "I shall swear it if you wish!" Then, in a lower voice, "At least with me and mine, you already know us, and know what to expect."

CORDELIA STOOD WITH Gregory and Allouette on the battlements, fingers clutching the stone, ready and braced for an enemy telepath to lash out at the royal family—and on edge, waiting to twist weapons out of hands by telekinesis if anyone tried to strike at Alain. "How can he have had the stupidity to ride among them, one man in the midst of so many enemies!" Cordelia cried.

"It is wisdom, and a calculated risk," Gregory told her. "More to the point, though, with your husband, it is compassion for the poor and a sense of what is right."

"Must he be so devoted?" Cordelia instantly answered her own question. "Yes, he must. I would not love him so if he were not."

Allouette touched her hand. "Sister, he is even more devoted to you."

Cordelia stood in silence a moment, then gave her a smug smile. "Yes. He is, is he not?"

"Who comes?" With a frown, Gregory pointed toward a small party who came riding out from the eastern slope.

The women turned to look. Cordelia frowned. "A lord and his retainers, from the look of them, with an escort of royal men-at-arms from the eastern wing. Sir Nabon must think them important indeed to send them to Their Majesties in the mist of a battle! But why is that one man bound?"

"I think, in these circumstances, a touch of mind-reading would not be unethical." Gregory frowned a moment, then stared. '"Tis your Uncle Anselm and your never-seen cousin!"

ANSELM RODE ON one side of Sir Orgon, Geordie on the other—but the young man's gaze was fixed on the crowd. "What passes here? A parley?"

"A parley between your arrogant cousin and a mob of thousands!" Anselm said. "Does he think to fight them all single-handed?" But he put on a respectful, though scowling, face as they rode up to the King and Queen. "Majesties."

"Well met, brother." Tuan couldn't help staring. "What brings you to me on the brink of battle?"

'To your wife, not to you!" Anselm snapped. "We bring you a traitor who urged me to rebellion again. These last few days his exhortations have grown quite urgent, and I could not think why—but now I see." He turned on Sir Orgon. "You knew about this, didn't you? A peasant uprising, and you knew when it would happen, which is why you said there was little time left!"

"If that is so, leave him to me," Catharine said in an executioner's voice.

Sir Orgon looked at her and shuddered.

"Does your son not have manners enough to greet his aunt, let alone his Queen?" Catharine demanded.

Anselm bristled—but before he could answer, Geordie cried, "I see them! Dickon and Ned, two of mine own peasants!" And with no more ado, he was galloping down toward the meadow.

Down, and in among the peasants, who parted in sheer astonishment, then closed around the rider with dark and angry shouts—but Geordie swung down from his horse and ran to his men. "Dickon! Ned! What do you here? Do you mean to lose your lives?"

"Good day, squire." Dickon had the grace to look shame-faced. "When the guardsmen took you away, we were angered indeed by the duke's high-handedness. We heard men were marching to tear down this arrogant Queen and her supercilious sons, and we came seeking revenge for you."

"Well, you no longer have need! The Lord Warlock pled my case, and that 'supercilious son' sent me back to care for you all as well as I may!" He spun to Alain. "Your Highness! No matter who else must be punished, I beg you spare these! They sought only justice for their squire, nothing more!"

"You are loyal to this lordling?" one of the other peasants asked, incredulous.

Dickon's face darkened; he took a firmer grip on his staff as he stepped up beside Geordie. "We will defend this man to our deaths."

"Aye!" Ned stepped up on Geordie's other side. "Our squire and his lady have done all they can to see that we and our families are well fed and well housed! If we lack anything, 'tis only because he has no more money! Indeed, the duke's men arrested him for seeking food enough to take us through the winter, though he had to shoot the Queen's own deer to do it!"

"This is the best reason I ever heard for poaching," Alain said.

"But how is this?" asked another peasant. "You do not mean to say the lords can be our friends!"

"I am no lord," Geordie said hotly, "for my father is attainted! I am only a squire!"

"But he is a lord by rights!" Ned proclaimed. "A lord, and our friend!"

"As I will be, too." Alain gazed at his cousin for a second, then smiled. "We are of one blood, after all, though we have never seen one another. Well met, Cousin Geordie."

Geordie gazed back at him, then decided to smile, too. "And you, Cousin Alain."

"How very touching," another peasant sneered, "reunion at long last—but they are lords nonetheless, and our enemies by nature!"

All about Alain, confused talk sizzled—until a voice shrieked, "We have come for blood! We cannot leave with nothing to show for our pains!"

"You shall have my blood if you wish it," Alain said gravely. "Choose your champion, and I shall fight him with his own weapons!"

HIGH ATOP THE north tower, Alea hovered beside Magnus, worried about the tension evident in every line of his body. "You mustn't, Magnus! Mustn't interfere! There's no cause yet!"

"My prince and childhood friend is surrounded by thousands of enemies," Magnus grated, "and you tell me there's no cause?"