"Sirs...sirs it was terrible! I was here at Westminster, looking from my window, and as I watched, the sun seemed to run away first south, and then east. And there it stayed, leaving us but a faint glimmer to live by. A mighty lily as far south as Durazzo wilted and died in that infernal twilight. ...

"I...I am not sure." He is panting, and his nightclothes and the bedsheets are soaked with his sweat. "I...I thank God that I am alive, but...what a strange and terrible dream! So real!"

A firm kick later and the crew outside is inside, revealing William Longchamp, rising suddenly to an upright position in bed, pale as a sheet and sweating a small river.

"Wha--?" he frets, hands reaching out to pat at the blankets. "Where?"

Longchamp looks up from where he has been taking minutes. So the plan is: hire Danish shipping to supplement that provided by our own people. These will travel from England unloaded with troops to join us in Provence. In the mean-time, form a treaty of cooperation with the Aragonese to round out the...

Longchamp speaks, seemingly to the open air, as though musing aloud. "Ordinarily, a man's oath would be proven by his deeds. It is difficult to perform an action in prison. But there is something that Lord de Glanville can do to put action behind his words." Looking at Ranulf, he says. "You say that...

Longchamp steps forward.

"Your crimes have been made known to the king, and he has seen fit to punish you, Ranulf de Glanville. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Longchamp frowns, but acquiesces. "Are you ready, your Majesty?"

It is Longchamp that gives you a more direct response.

"Just seeing to a bit of business in London."

William Longchamp has been Richard Lionheart's right-hand-man as Chancellor of the Duchy of Aquitaine since the Plantagenet was 16 years old. A learned clerk and skilled diplomat, he is perhaps most famous for crossing verbal swords with William Marshal at the court of Philip II of France during Ric...