Not for the first time in his life, Richard de Clare wondered just how expensive his cousin's ambition was going to be. Strongbow had been a great man, but subjugating a massive portion of the British Isles without regal sanction had been a move for a man with more friends, or at least against a less popular king.

The summons had been brief, that is to say brusque, and the Clare knew well that this meeting could only be in response to the Welshman's tactic. He had expected it to be quick, but perhaps not quite so quick.

He knocked at the door, and in he was shown.

Richard was the first to catch de Clare's eye. I mean, who wouldn't notice the biggest man in England first? Especially when he was directing a long-suffering look at one?

Next to him, still yapping away with an indignant expression and a nervous energy that had him standing almost on tiptoe to reach his brother's ear, John tore his eyes away from the side of his brother's head to take in their guest, and cried out.

"YOU! Varlet! Scoundrel! Desist your politicking or suffer!"

de Clare assumed an expression of innocence, his eyebrows rising. "Poli--?"

"Oh, shut UP!" Richard cut off the Earl and rounded on his brother. "Are you seriously making threats? Think yourself big enough for that, do you, you spineless little worm?"

de Clare fell silent instantly. This might be easier than he thought.

"Brother, I--" John began.

"Stuff your 'brother.' You can claim kinship when you've done a lick of good in my service, and not before. You can't trade on kin when you stabbed father in the back after hiding under his shirt-tails all your life."

He turned on de Clare. "Look, Hertford, the pipsqueak is a pain in the ass, but I'm not stripping his title to Ireland, misguided shit-for-brained idea that it was, without the Saladin Fund getting padded. It's 4 Grand for John's bit of Ireland. You want English stuff, it'll be more. Figure it out."

"As you say, your Grace." de Clare bowed, tuning out John's sputtering cry of indignation and promise to sic his mother on Richard. Who responded with the heaviest of shrugs.

Then de Clare beat feet as smoothly and quickly as he could, slipping out the door and away from the palace before the tyrant could change his mind. 4 grand and Ireland could be had to trade with. Now, where to find all that cash?

/scene.

This thread is now open to characters wishing to speak with Richard de Clare as he crosses the palace grounds and re-enters the Tent City.