It was madness.
They could not win, but Amaury was unable to surrender.
He left the dogs in the solar with Elizabeth and raced down the stairs. James was yet reading in his chamber and he urged that man to the solar.
“I cannot leave my manuscripts,” that man protested, rising to his feet.
“Three,” Amaury decreed. “Choose three and secure the door of the solar behind you.”
“Three? How can I choose only three?”
Amaury strode into the chamber, seized the one James had been reading and two others, then pushed him toward the stairs, shoving the manuscripts into his arms. “Three. Now make haste.”
“But…”
Amaury bent down and stared into the man’s eyes. “They come for you,” he whispered, then touched the signet ring on James’ finger. “And this. Do not make it a simple conquest.”
James’ al
