William had been watching him avidly, his own expression stilled and unreadable, but now he turned toward the river again. A faint foreboding began to grow in Graham's mind until William glanced back at him.
"How many years has it been since you were knighted?" William asked softly.
Graham blinked, his mouth going dry. He thought he already knew where William was heading.
"Seven. Why?"
"That's what I thought: the same as Drake. It would certainly seem that he had a mandate, wouldn't it? A royal mandate and Garter Knights to back him up. May I see your lists?"
Graham handed them over without daring to ask why, watching as the prince scanned first the Elizabethan and then the modem one. After a moment, William pulled a pencil from an inside pocket and began writing.
"Your newer list is incomplete," the prince said, scrawling five more names at the bottom and underlining the last. "You've counted the regular Garter Knights, but you've forgotten those related to the King."
As Graham took back the amended list, he could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. William's list was by ducal title, but Graham knew them all: Connaught, the King's great-uncle; Windsor, the former King; and the three remaining royal brothers, Gloucester, Kent, and Qarence. Before he could even open his mouth to deny the implication of the underlined final name, the prince was reaching into an inner pocket once more to withdraw a flat leather-bound jeweler's box. He handed it to Graham with a pleased smile and took the lists, slipping them into his coat pocket.
"Tell me if you think that might be of any use in what you're trying to do," he said softly.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Graham eased open the spring Hd far enough to peek inside, closed it abruptly, then opened it again to stare in disbelief.
Inside lay William's Garter star, red cross of St. George surrounded by the blue-enamel garter: Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Chapter 12
THE Garter star seemed to pulsate against its bed of dark-blue velvet. The bright enamel and cut metal rays shimmered in the fitful sunlight.
"I suppose the Garter itself would have been a more appropriate symbol for what I'm trying to say," the prince remarked as Graham began shaking his head. "However, its box was a little long and narrow for concealing on one's person. I rather thought our discussion might come to this. Now don't keep shaking your head at me. Gray. It's all perfectly logical. Drake had his royally connected Garter Knights, and you must have yours. I'm only one, but I fancy I'm closer to the crown than Howard or Hatton were. I think I'd do well enough."
"William—"
"Please let me finish. Naturally, we can't send my star or garter 'round to summon these chaps you seem to think you need, but I don't see why I can't use whatever clout I have to get them all together for you. We don't have to tell them what it's all about ahead of time. Then you and Lady Selwyn come out and tell them the real reason for the meeting."
Graham continued to shake his head, too stunned to even close the box and give it back.
"Sir, I can't let you do it."
"Please don't 'sir' me at a time like this," William said softly. "And why can't you let me do it?"
Graham closed the box with a snap and thrust it back into the prince's hands. "You don't know what you're offering. You haven't thought out the full implications. You don't understand how it could be taken if you were seen at my side while I asked those people to do what I have to ask them. You're a royal duke, William. Your brother is the King of England, head of the Church of England, Defender of the Faith. If one, even one, of those people opened their mouths afterward, where would you be? Where would your brother be?"
"My brother need never know."
"But they'll know! Don't you understand? If you were to function as you've just outlined, you'd be seen doing it in his behalf. You'd imply his sanction even if it weren't true."
"Why couldn't it be true, then?" William asked. "Why not ask his sanction, at least unofficially? He's the anointed King. You said that the sacred king stands in the place of God in these matters. Maybe he should know about it. Or does he already?"
Graham shook his head sharply. "He doesn't know. No one in the immediate Royal Family knows anymore besides yourself. It's said that they never know unless the need is acute. Oh, there are relatives whose names you'd recognize if I were permitted to tell you, but no one in the close succession. And it must stay that way."
"But why?"
Graham leaned both elbows against the rail and massaged his temples with his thumbs. How to make him understand?
"Look, William. There isn't much holding this country together right now. We're a little better off in some ways than we were a month ago—at least we got most of the BEF out of France—but it's going to get worse before it gets better. You heard what Churchill said: The Battle of Britain is about to begin.' Well, it began some time ago."
"I'm aware of that."
"Well, are you aware what we have to fight that battle with? I don't think you are. Not enough planes, not enough pilots, not enough armed forces or materiel to equip them—we haven't recovered the Dunkirk losses yet, you know."
"Do you really think I don't know that?" came the angry retort. "What do you take me for?"
Graham looked away painfully. "I take you for a man who loves his country more than even he knows and wants desperately to help save her," he said quietly. "But I don't think this is the way. You don't yet perceive the delicate balance we're walking. Right now, there are only about two factors holding us together in addition to the monumental war effort of the British people and sheer, unadulterated luck: Mr. Churchill's unconquerable optimism and the incredible personal courage and example of the King. We must do nothing to jeopardize your brother's position."
"But how would—"
"No, this time you let me finish. Don't you see? Everything else is upside-down except the Crown. The King and Queen are the single most potent symbol of stability and faith that can get this country through the war. The people need that stability. They're afraid, and for good reasons—and they could be made even more afraid if you or any other member of the Royal Family became involved in something controversial, especially something as far outside the familiar bounds of their faith as magic."
"But I thought you said a lot of people still keep the old ways alongside the new, and they still believe."
"A lot of them do," Graham agreed, glancing furtively over his shoulder to make certain they were not being overheard. "But many of them don't. Some that do are not consciously aware that they still do. The great majority would be positively scandalized if they thought witchcraft were rampant in the royal house. Remember, that's tantamount to satanism and devil worship in the popular view—and enough laws are still on the books to make things very messy for a prince who got his hands dirty. Don't think you'd be immune because of your rank. Remember the uproar less than four years ago simply because a king wanted to marry a divorced woman. What do you think the press would do with a prince who got involved in witchcraft?"
The prince slipped the box back in his pocket and bowed his head, but the action was not one of surrender, only regrouping. Graham watched him closely, still a little stunned at the combined audacity and brilliance of the offer, but he could read no hint of the next argument in eyes or set of hands or jaw.
After a few moments, William glanced at him again and Graham braced himself.
"Will you at least concede that my analysis of the Drake situation was a sound one?" William asked.
Graham nodded warily.
"And will you also agree that the modem analogy is sound, at least in theory? That you need a KG to vouch for you, if you're to invoke the same kind of authority that Drake did?"
"Perhaps. But you can't be that KG. We'll find another way."
"What other way? Listen, let me approach it from another angle. How many people are we talking about?"
"Perhaps twenty or so. No more than thirty. That isn't the po
int."
"I never said it was. Let me finish," William said, almost a little irritated. "I set up a—a social event—a reception, or something like that. No one declines a royal duke's invitation. That gets them all in the same place at the same time. After that, it's up to you."
"That sounds intriguing except for one small detail," Graham countered. "Other than a few rare exceptions, you do not know any of these people, and it's unlikely that you would have become aware of them through normal channels. What makes you think even a royal duke could single them out without arousing some kind of suspicion?"
"Suspicion of what?" William returned. "It's you and Lady Selwyn who've been approaching them so far. No one could have any notion of my connection with you in that context. I could say that I wish to recognize some of the small, generally unnoticed contributions that people are making to the war effort. Everyone is doing something, after all. You could vet them in advance and come up with a legitimate justification for each of them. For that matter, I could do several of these gatherings as blinds, before the real one, just to further confuse the issue—intimate little gatherings of patriotic people under royal patronage. Now what is dangerous or suspicious about that?"
"Nothing so far. Go on."
"Very well. Once they're there, I tell them that I've been asked to gather them on a matter of national security—and if a threatened invasion isn't that, I certainly don't know what is. I then state that I have been told that this is a matter of extreme delicacy, that even I do not know what is going to be said. That I have been advised not even to be present because of the sensitivity of my position near the Throne. I then turn them over to you and Lady Selwyn and leave the room. By the way, I wear my full Garter accoutrements to greet them, so that that part of the significance can't possibly be lost on them. Now why won't that work?"
Graham shook his head. "Because I won't let you do it, for starters. The beginning part is fine—brilliant, in fact. But you'd still be involved up to your royal eyebrows, and you're still the King's brother even if you try to function in a private capacity. Everything I said before still holds. To reiterate just one of the more obvious dangers, suppose someone talked afterwards?"
The prince drew a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, temporarily stymied, then stared out across the river for rather a long time. By the look on his face, Graham knew he still had not given up.
"You said twenty to thirty people could be involved," William said, glancing at him again. "How many groups do they represent?"
Graham did a quick mental count. "Perhaps fifteen or so. I'm allowing two representatives per group, but they wouldn't necessarily all send two."
"Hmmm. I should think it might be cut to one per group. These groups—they're all—esoteric fraternities of some sort, like this chap you talked with this morning?"
"More or less, I suppose, but—"
"Like Freemasons? I mean, do they swear oaths of secrecy?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"Suppose you were to bind them all by a common oath, then?—not to speak of what they saw and heard once they left the room."
"They wouldn't—"
"'Will you let me finish? It isn't as if we'd be asking them to violate previous oaths. They'd be free to tell their own people what they need to know to get the job done. But you and I, for example, are in sensitive positions. They'd understand that our identities must remain confidential. I'll bet that Howard and Hatton even wore masks."
Graham's head shot around to stare at the prince. How had he known that? Graham was sure he had not mentioned it.
"As for the others," William went bhthely on, "well, it isn't as if we're asking them to do anything they wouldn't do, anyway, are we, for God's sake? All we're asking is that they do whatever they do all at the same time. What's so awful about that?"
"Put that way, you make it sound so simple," Graham murmured, wishing that it were.
"Implying that it isn't?"
"Unfortunately, no." Graham sighed. "Listen, you've made a most generous offer, and I shouldn't want you to think I'm not grateful. But I simply can't let you get involved any further. You already know more than you should. When I think of the danger I've exposed you to—"
"Now wait just a moment! You didn't exactly force me into anything," William snapped. "As I recall, I've resorted to some rather compelling coercion along the way."
"Yes, and I should have been more firm about saying no despite that. 1 won't be a party to that happening again. Whatever arguments you care to offer, it's too dangerous. You can't do it."
"Can you, without me?"
Graham had no ready answer for that, though he continued to protest. They argued more in the car when it began to rain. The argument continued all the way back to St. James' Park, ceasing only for their passage through the carpeted corridors. When they gained the relative privacy of Graham's office, William would have started in again, but Graham flatly forbade it. In desperation, Graham rang Alix and asked if he might bring the prince to her. Perhaps it was his turn to pull rank and resort to compelling coercion.
A few hours later, the three of them were sitting around the library table at Oakwood, making a civilized pretense of afternoon tea while Graham outlined the prince's offer fairly but in tones that left no doubt of his disapproval. William stubbornly insisted that they could not succeed without him. Alix appeared to be maintaining a neutral stance, though her glance at Graham when they first arrived spoke volumes about what she thought of his bringing the prince to her home on such short notice.
"You do realize, I hope, that you've put us in a very awkward position, sir," she said, lacing her fingers together on the polished oak. "You've presented us with the first possibly workable plan I've heard to accomplish what we need to accomplish. Unfortunately, because of who you are, it would be almost impossible to use what you've presented."
William had been toying with a silver teaspoon while Graham concluded his synopsis and Alix spoke, but now he set it aside and folded his hands to match hers. By the look on his face, Graham suspected he was still a bit in awe of Alix— which was exactly what Graham had hoped for. If William thought Graham could be inflexible or stubborn, he had yet to see how resolute a woman like Alix could be, functioning in her official capacity as she was now.
"I decline to accept what you've just said, for two reasons," William finally said, obviously choosing his words carefully. "First of all, you've admitted that it's a possibly workable plan and that you haven't any other. Second, you've said that it would be almost impossible to use me. You're far too careful a woman to use that word unless it's precisely what you meant— which at very least means that you haven't made up your mind yet. What else can I say to convince you?"
Graham glanced at Alix in question. Was that what William had read from her words? Oddly enough, she did not seem to be denying what had just been said. She eyed the prince coolly, taking his measure just as surely as if she had laid the scarlet cords against his body in sacred ritual. To Graham's surprise, William did not back down from her gaze. After a moment, Alix lowered her eyes under demure lashes.
"The plan is basically sound," she conceded. "What concerns me most at this point is how to protect your public image—and, by association, that of the King. Gray is perfectly correct to fear for your reputation."
"I agree. That is the weakest link," William replied.
"Good. We have at least one point of accord, then," she said. "Another possibility has also just occurred to me. You mentioned the taking of a common oath of secrecy. They would never accept that suggestion if it came from Gray or even from me, but they might accept it from someone else among them. I have in mind Dame Enuna, Gray. She's respected by everyone, even if some of them fear her."
"Who's Dame Emma?" William asked.
Graham poured himself another cup of tea. "I mentioned her before, though not by name. She's the lady in Hampshire who's promised her help. She commands six other groups besides her own, and more will come
if she asks."
"I do recall, now that you mention it," William murmured. "Will she do it, though?"
"Ask the oath?" Alix nodded. "I think so. Her tradition and ours have close ties. As I said, she has already agreed to help as best she can, even if the others won't."
'Then you can let me help, too," William said, a faint grin lifting his mouth. "There's no reason you can't."
Alix pushed her teacup slightly to one side and returned his gaze evenly.
'There is at least one that I can think of immediately, which has not been mentioned so far," she said. "If we were to agree to this—and I stress the word if—if we were to agree to this, you would have to accept certain ground rules from the very beginning."
"Name them."
"Number one—and I will be blunt. Though it is the man in black who provides the public face, it is the priestess who ultimately conmiands. I am she. If you truly wish to be a part of our endeavor, it must be on my terms. I am not arbitrary, but the final responsibility is mine, and so, therefore, must be the final decisions. Are you willing to abide by that?"
His lips parted as if to raise a question, but then he ducked his head in a nod.
"I accept it."
"But?"
"It was not a reservation, my lady," he replied, meeting her eyes less confidently. "Some of your—terminology is unfamiliar. The crux of the matter is that you are in charge. Gray told me that before Buckland. I would not contest it."
She inclined her head regally, more like a queen receivmg a subject than a countess acknowledging a prince's acquiescence. Graham watched William take it without a flicker of resentment. Perhaps Alix was right. Perhaps the prince did belong among them. Graham's heart had told him that almost from the beginning, though his head had a dozen valid reasons why it should not be.
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