Not for the first time did he doubt its outcome and his own destiny.Alone with a bowl of stew, he sat on a knoll that gave him a view of much of the camp. From knights and squires and yeomen and archers to cooks and peasants and those who simply followed for merriment, there were hundreds who depended on the choices he made.Who was he to pretend it was within his capabilities to wisely govern them all? And in the end, was it a good enough reason, simply because his long-dead parents had once ruled Magnus? What would all of his efforts bring him except power that some mysterious conspiracy seemed to continuously try to take?He felt a scratching in the cage hidden beneath his cloak. The tame mouse smelled food and had learned to expect to be fed.Thomas let the mouse crawl onto his hand. He’d been reluctant to have the mouse blinded to keep it from escaping, for he hated any act of cruelty. But better to risk the life of a mouse than that of an official food taster. The mouse, at least, was content.
