The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7

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The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7 Page 17

by Kathryn Le Veque


  “If he marries Agnes.”

  “I would have no reason to defend him if he was not.”

  Christopher had never heard, or seen, such a blatant bit of blackmail. The only thing that kept him from snapping Walter’s neck was the fact that he didn’t know where Peter was at the moment. He hadn’t show up in the hall, and neither had Alexander, so he had no idea where those two were. Since Peter had brought up the jeweler’s daughter the day before, he had a sick feeling in his stomach that there might be some truth to what Walter was saying. Not that Peter was a traitor, because Peter was one of the most trustworthy men he knew, but kissing the woman… well, he couldn’t be sure that it hadn’t happened. And Walter was correct when he said that allied warlords might view that as an act of betrayal given the kiss would be with the daughter of the king’s jeweler.

  He had to find his son.

  “I will think on it,” he said as evenly as he could. “But if any of what you have said finds its way to other ears, I will come for you and I will destroy you. Your body will end up in a river somewhere and your daughter will be left destitute. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Walter’s eyes widened. “Why would I speak of it? That is why I told you in private.”

  Christopher was a good deal taller and bigger than Walter. He leaned over, posturing over the man threateningly. “That had better be the truth,” he growled. “Keep your lips shut or I will cut your tongue out.”

  With that, he continued past Walter, heading for his brother, who saw him coming. He’d also seen the exchange between Walter and Christopher. By the time his brother reached him, his jaw was ticking furiously and David looked at him with concern.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What happened with de Quincy?”

  Christopher was so angry that he could barely speak. “I must find my son,” he rumbled. “When I do, I am going to send him off to the Marches today. Damn that boy.”

  David’s eyes widened. “Who?” he said. “Peter? What in the hell happened?”

  By this time, Marcus had joined them. He, too, had seen the exchange between Christopher and Walter, and Christopher’s evident upset.

  “What happened, Chris?” he asked. “What did Walter say?”

  Marcus knew about Peter’s interest in a certain Jewess, but David did not. Christopher tried to remain calm and succinct as he explained the situation to the two men he trusted more than any others.

  “Marcus knows this, so the explanation is for your benefit, David,” he said through clenched teeth. “Yesterday, Peter informed me that he had found a woman he was attracted to. He was quite enamored with her, or at least he seemed to be. However, the woman is a Jewess, the daughter of the king’s jeweler.”

  David’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “A Jew?” he hissed. “And Peter was serious?”

  Christopher sighed heavily. “He seemed to be,” he muttered. “And you know how de Quincy has been trying to secure a betrothal between Peter and his unpleasant daughter. Right now, Walter just told me that he has it on good authority that this Jewess has seduced Peter and is probing him for rebel secrets, which she is then passing to her father and, subsequently, the king. He stopped short of calling Peter a traitor if – and only if – he marries Agnes because, surely, de Quincy would not betray his son-in-law.”

  It was a shocking statement. Marcus’ head snapped to Walter, who was over at the table pouring himself some wine. David’s eyes were so wide with outrage that they threatened to pop from his head.

  “He threatened you?” David muttered, incredulous.

  “That is my assumption,” Christopher said. “If I do not agree to a betrothal, then he’ll tell the warlords that Peter is betraying them to the king through the jeweler’s daughter.”

  As David rolled his eyes, infuriated, Marcus’ gaze was on Walter as the man calmly drank his wine and spoke to d’Umfraville.

  “What do you want me to do with him, Chris?” he rumbled. “Tell me and I shall do it.”

  Christopher wouldn’t look at Walter, but he knew the man was still in the hall. He could smell his stench. “I have overlooked him until now,” he said. “He is an ally on the Marches but nothing more. It was important to keep him as an ally, but he has pushed me too far. He’s threatening my son. Mayhap someone should warn him that something like that will not be well met in the end.”

  With that, he broke away from his brother and Marcus, heading over to speak with The Marshal. But both Marcus and David had heard Christopher’s reply. There was a message there. It was something they understood clearly, as did the other Executioner Knights who happened to be in the hall once Marcus explained the situation to them.

  No one made a threat against an Executioner Knight and got away with it.

  Walter made it back to London later that day, but not before he was ambushed while riding alone at the end of a group of warlords and soldiers who were heading back to their respective homes. Walter was pulled off his horse by men who moved swiftly and smoothly, taken into the trees, tied up, and beaten within an inch of his life. Then he was removed from the trees and thrown over the saddle of his own horse, which then wandered back to Lonsdale. When Christopher was told about Walter’s beaten body, he instructed his soldiers to take the man back to London and let Saer de Quincy deal with his cousin.

  Christopher wouldn’t lift a finger to help him.

  He hadn’t been part of the ambush that broke ribs and knocked out six of Walter’s teeth, but he knew Maxton, Caius, and Marcus’ work when he saw it. And he wasn’t sorry, either. However, the entire incident with Walter had his anger primed and ready for when Peter and Alexander arrived home towards sunset.

  He was waiting for them.

  One look at his father and Peter knew he was in for it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “That’s where you were?” Christopher said, aghast. “The Great Synagogue?”

  Standing in his father’s sparse solar with Alexander standing somewhere back behind him, Peter was facing his very angry father.

  But he stood his ground.

  “Aye,” he said. “I went to speak to the rabbi so I could understand the challenges in a marriage between a Christian and a Jew.”

  Christopher was so mad that he was close to breaking his teeth. His jaw was grinding as he struggled not to explode at his son. Knowing that Alexander had been with him only made him madder. His focus moved from Peter to Alexander, back by the solar door.

  “I would have thought you would show more sense where this is concerned,” he said, his tone strained. “You are a good deal older than Peter is, Sherry. You have seen the world. How could you, in good conscience, go with him on this… this folly and not stop him? At the very least, not stop to tell me what was happening?”

  Alexander knew he deserved the lashing. He was prepared to take it. “I am not his father nor his keeper,” he said evenly. “I saw him slip from Lonsdale before sunrise and my instincts told me to go with him to keep him out of trouble. That is the only reason I went – to make sure he did not come to harm. He is capable of making his own decisions and it is not my place nor my privilege to tell him what to do. But I would be remiss if I let him go at it alone.”

  That pushed Christopher over the edge, mostly because he knew Alexander was right. Furious, he grabbed the nearest chair and smashed it against the stone windowsill before tossing the whole broken mess from the window and out to the river’s edge below. He did it to release energy, but it didn’t work.

  He was as mad as ever.

  “Of all the damned, stupid actions,” he snarled, bracing his fists on the windowsill, his gaze on the river beyond. “Damned, stupid actions that will come back to haunt you, Peter. I told you not to pursue this.”

  Peter was a little concerned having just watched his father demolish a chair. “Papa, I…”

  “Shut your lips!” Christopher whirled on him, jabbing a finger at him. “Shut your foolish lips and listen to me. For once, just listen to me. Your
little foray into London may very well cost you your freedom because Walter de Quincy’s spies saw you. You know the man has people following you everywhere you go. One of those spies saw you in London, with this… this woman… and now Walter is threatening to tell the rebel allies that you are giving information to the daughter of the king’s jeweler so that her father may pass our secrets on to John. Are you satisfied now?”

  He was yelling by the time he was finished. Peter stood there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “I did no such thing!” he fired back. “We never discussed you or the rebellion or anything at all. I would never do such a thing!”

  Christopher knew that. Deep down, he knew that. His son was trustworthy, but he was so angry that he was bordering on irrational. He struggled to calm himself before he broke another chair, or worse. He took several deep, long breaths before attempting to reply.

  “The Marshal called a gathering this morning,” he said. “A gathering you both should have been part of, but because of Peter’s recklessness, your absence was noticeable. The Marshal has received word from Kevin and Achilles that John’s mercenaries are already in England. They have lain siege to Rochester Castle. Dover Castle is also being harassed by French troops which landed and are trying to wrest it from the royalists who hold it. All of The Northerners are removing their armies from London today and departing for home. They have no chance of catching the mercenary army before it reaches Yorkshire and Northumberland, but they are going to try. Sherry, you are to muster all our troops and prepare them to depart by the end of the week. Send a thousand men to Canterbury. David is going to need them.”

  Alexander nodded sharply. “It shall be done.”

  “You may leave.”

  Alexander quit the room without another word, leaving Christopher and Peter alone. Calmer now, Christopher focused on his son.

  His golden boy, his eldest, a man he was so proud of that it was all he could do not to shout it from the rooftops. But at the moment, he felt sorely disappointed in the judgment of the man. He’d made a mistake that was going to cost him.

  “And you,” he said, more quietly. “You will be departing for Ludlow in the morning. I need you on the Marches, taking control of my new properties. Your task will be to secure all four properties and staff them with de Lohr troops pilfered from Lioncross. Do you understand?”

  Peter swallowed hard and nodded but had the sense not to argue. He didn’t want to leave London, not now, but any resistance to his father’s wishes would not be well met. Therefore, he didn’t try. He simply agreed.

  But his father wasn’t done with him yet.

  “If you think I am sending you out of London to punish you, you would only be half-correct,” Christopher said. “There is a large part of me sending you away for your own good. But there is another part of me who wants you away from the warlords and away from Walter. He intends to leverage your interaction with the jeweler’s daughter to get what he wants – if you marry Agnes, he will keep the secret. If you do not, he will tell the warlords what he was told and declare you a traitor to our cause.”

  Peter rolled his eyes, so incredibly outraged at what he was hearing. “What?” he hissed. “But I did nothing wrong, Papa. De Quincy is simply angry because I want nothing to do with his rude, petty daughter.”

  Christopher knew that, but he couldn’t get past his son’s bad judgment. “Did you kiss the Jewess?”

  Peter looked at him, shocked. “Kiss her? Of course I did not kiss her.”

  “Did you kiss her hand?”

  Peter opened his mouth to deny it, but quickly remembered that he had. “Her finger,” he said as the thought occurred to him. “She stuck her finger in my face and I kissed it. It was playful, innocent. I certainly did not ravage the girl for all to see. Ask Sherry.”

  Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “I will deal with him later,” he said. “Right now, I am concerned for you. Your reckless behavior has put me in a very bad position, Peter.”

  For the first time since entering the solar, Peter could see the strain on his father’s face. The man had gone from angry to stressed in a matter of seconds. He could see what his impulsive behavior had done to the man and he was torn between sorrow and defiance. He wasn’t sorry he’d gone to London, but he was sorry it caused his father grief. Marcus’ words came back to him at that moment. Do not mention this to your father, Peter. He has enough on his mind.

  At that moment, he could see just how much his father had on his mind.

  He began to feel like a very bad son, indeed.

  “I’m sorry, Papa,” he said, daring to move towards him now that he was calmer. “I never meant to cause you grief. You know I would never knowingly do that. There was no way I could know that The Marshal would call a gathering today.”

  Christopher looked at his boy. “That is not the point, is it?” he said. “You deliberately went off without telling me where you were going.”

  Peter had. After a moment, he nodded. “Aye,” he said truthfully. “I did not want you to stop me. And Sherry… do not be angry with him. He tried to convince me not to go, but I would not listen to him. He went with me to make sure I was safe and for no other reason.”

  Tempers had calmed and Christopher could see his vulnerable boy before him. Slowly, he shook his head.

  “This is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” he said. “I simply do not understand how this situation could have gotten out of control so quickly. Is this infatuation worth it?”

  Peter’s dark eyes glimmered. “More than ever,” he said. “You know I do not say this lightly, Papa. I’ve never spoken this way about a woman ever before, but there is something about Liora that makes me feel as if I’ve just awoken from a deep sleep to see the world for the first time. I’m not sure what more I can say about her, but she’s the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. This isn’t a whim that is going to go away, Papa. It’s real.”

  Christopher sighed heavily. Clearly, that wasn’t what he had wanted to hear, but his son was a grown man. He could make his own decisions, questionable as they were. “Then tell me what the rabbi said.”

  With the flurry of anger abating, there was a strained calm between them now. Peter planted himself in the only other chair in the chamber, suddenly feeling weary and defeated.

  Very, very weary.

  “He was young and surprisingly helpful,” he said. “Rabbi Judah is his name. He was quite friendly and answered my questions without judgment, which I found astonishing. But what he told me was much as I expected – he said that marriage between Jews and Christians do not exist, at least any that are recognized by both religions. If Liora were to convert to Christianity, then our marriage would be recognized by our church. If I convert to Judaism, then our marriage would be recognized by her church. But both churches will not recognize the same marriage.”

  Christopher watched his son struggle with something beyond his control. Part of him felt sorry for Peter, but another part of him felt his son was behaving immaturely. He went to stand in front of Peter, enormous arms folded across his chest.

  “Let us look at this logically,” he said. “In the matter of who shall convert to which religion, think about who has the most to lose. Having not met Mistress Liora, I do not know anything about her, but I will assume that she does not hold a great social and financial standing in her community.”

  Peter shook his head. “She is the daughter of Haim ben Thad,” he said. “He holds great social and financial status in his community, but she does not. However, her actions will directly reflect upon him.”

  “Will he lose business?”

  “Possibly. If she converts to Christianity, at the very least he may be shunned.”

  “But his gentile business will not be affected. If anything, it may increase because of his daughter’s connections to you.”

  “That is possible.”

  Christopher nodded faintly. “Now, let’s speak of you,” he said. “Should you convert to her religion, you
will lose your knighthood. You will lose your command of Ludlow Castle. I alluded to this when we spoke before – employing a dishonored knight will be difficult, if not impossible. I can keep you at Ludlow, but as a dishonored knight, men would have a difficult time following you, which means you would be removed from the chain of command. Do you understand that?”

  Peter took a deep breath before nodding. “I do.”

  Christopher continued. “You would lose your title of Lord Pembridge and the income from those properties,” he said. “Mayhap you could still serve with The Marshal as an Executioner Knight, but you would never be a leader, Peter. Only a follower. With your source of income removed because of losing your title and command, you would be solely dependent upon me for any income. I would not let you starve, of course, but your opportunities would be incredibly limited. The best you could hope for is being a mercenary like these bastards who are now overrunning England. You would lose everything you’ve known and everything you’ve worked for would be drastically reduced. Are you willing to go this far for a woman you have only just met?”

  Peter simply sat there, staring off into the chamber as he pondered his father’s words of wisdom. Nothing he said was untrue. Was he willing to lose everything for a woman he’d just met? For a woman who lit him up like a flint and stone ignited the driest kindling? Slouching forward, he put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

  “This is so unfair,” he muttered.

  Christopher sighed faintly, hoping he’d just helped Peter see the light. “I know,” he said. “Life is never easy. But the choices we make can define us forever.”

  Peter sat there with his hands over his face. “I already came into this life with one strike against me,” he said. “I was born the bastard of a great English warlord. Everyone knows I am not Dustin’s child. Everyone knows you were not married to my mother. They may accept me, and embrace me, but in the backs of their minds they think ‘he’s not really a de Lohr, not truly’.”

 

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