Shield of Kronos

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Specifically, he was thinking of one lady in particular.

  Lyssa du Bose. Jago had never seen a finer beauty. With hair and eyes the color of bronze, she was a stunning example of womanhood. Oh, he knew his wife had kept her clothed in shapeless clothing so the girl would not attract his eye and he also knew that his wife kept the girl from his sight. Grace had no problem with her husband taking servants to his bed, but her ladies were another matter. It wasn’t that she felt protective over them. It was more that she felt threatened by them. Servants were no competition, but a noblewoman capturing her husband’s attention was a threat to her pride. Therefore, Grace kept Lady Lyssa away from her husband as much as she could.

  It had worked for the most part. He’d only seen enough of the girl to titillate his interest. But last night, Jago had finally seen the full blooming beauty of Lyssa du Bose. In a dress borrowed from one of the other women, she had been positively stunning, so much so that Hawisa, the prince’s wife, had noticed. She had asked to meet the girl. But Lyssa had suddenly taken ill, according to Lady Rose, and that was the last any of them saw of her. A pity, too. Jago had hoped to at least talk to her. To get to know her.

  To have her be the one he woke up to this morning.

  With thoughts of Lyssa du Bose on his mind, he smiled to himself as he lay in bed with a cold rag upon his head. Perhaps he was tired of trifling with mute servant girls. Perhaps it was time to finally have a mistress as befitting his station, the most beautiful woman in all of London, if not all of England. He already had the ugliest wife, high-born though she may be, so to have a beautiful mistress… he was worthy of such a thing.

  Perhaps it was time.

  But further thoughts of Lady Lyssa were cleaved when the door to his chamber opened and his wife appeared. Small, dark, and pale, Grace was dressed in black broadcloth, with her hair pulled back into a tight braid on the back of her head. It made her ears stick out and Jago cast her a glance before turning his attention to the open window and the sounds beyond. He was angry that she had interrupted his thoughts of Lady Lyssa.

  “What do you want?” he asked, sounding displeased.

  Grace had more cold compresses in a bowl in her hands. “I have brought you more cool cloths for your aching head, my husband,” she said. “How do you feel?”

  He eyed her as she took the compress from his head. “Terrible,” he said sarcastically. “Worse now that you are here. Set those compresses down and be gone with you.”

  Grace put the bowl with the compresses on the table next to the bed but she ignored his command to leave. She began wringing them out in the cool water. Her husband was in a foul mood, which wasn’t unusual with him. He was normally in a foul mood where she was concerned. She had spent their entire marriage dealing with his moods because she had no other choice; they were married and there was no way out for either of them. He’d married her for prestige and she’d married him because she’d been forced to.

  The hope for civility between them had died a long time ago.

  “I have been asked to thank you by those who attended the party last night,” she said politely, handing him a cold compress. “Everyone had a wonderful time and they are very grateful for your generosity.”

  Jago slapped the compress onto his forehead. “They ate and drank enough,” he said, disgusted. “I hope they do not think that I am going to feed them like that nightly.”

  “They do not.”

  “And the de Nerra girl drank more wine than I did.”

  “She does not feel very well this morning, I assure you.”

  “And the new girl – du Bose – is she really sick? Hawisa asked for her, you know. I had to make excuses about her being ill. It was most embarrassing.”

  Grace sat primly on the chair next to the bed, looking as if she were hesitant to speak. “She seems to be rather weak this morning,” she said. “But… but there is some gossip floating about this morning. One of the servants told me that she only returned to The Wix shortly before the rest of us returned from Westminster last night.”

  Jago peered at her with some confusion. “But she left early in the evening.”

  “I know, my husband.”

  He yanked the compress off of his head. “If she left early, where did she go if not straight back to The Wix?”

  Grace shook her head. “I do not know, my husband. But the servants said that she was ill when she returned last night and went straight to bed.”

  Jago was confused as well as outraged. He propped himself up on his elbows. “If you do not know where she was, then ask her, you stupid cow. Ask her where she went after she left Westminster!”

  Unwilling to be shouted at or insulted any more than necessary, Grace stood up immediately and headed for the door. “I will ask her, my husband.”’

  Jago wouldn’t let her go so easily. “Wait!” he boomed. “Send her to me. I will ask her. I will not have that girl embarrassing me in front of the prince and his wife. If she left last night because she was ill, then she had better truly be ill!”

  Grace paused with her hand on the door latch. She didn’t want to bring Lyssa du Bose to her husband, not when she’d been trying so hard to keep the girl from him. This wasn’t at all the direction she wanted the conversation to take and she knew, simply by looking at her husband, that his interested in Lady Lyssa was more than simply a quest for knowledge. She’d seen the way he’d look at Lyssa last night in her beautiful blue gown; nay, there was more to it than that. She was, if nothing else, astute, and her instincts told her not to obey his command. Though it was rare for her to take a stand against him, in this case, she summoned the courage.

  “You do not need to trouble yourself in your condition,” she said. “I will ask the girl if the rumors are true and I will inform you of her answer.”

  Jago didn’t like the fact that he was evidently being refused access to Lyssa. He hadn’t been able to speak to her last night but, now, he would not be denied. She’d been on his mind this morning and he saw this as a perfect opportunity to finally make contact with her.

  But Grace was one step ahead of him.

  “I told you to bring her to me,” he growled. “You will do as I say.”

  Grace heard the threatening tone in his voice. Although Jago had never struck her, he had been known to throw things. He’d even grabbed her on occasion and left bruises on her arms. But he’d stopped short of actually striking her because he knew the king, not to mention her family, would be greatly displeased. Therefore, she wasn’t particularly fearful of him, but she did want to leave his presence. Badly. Still, in this matter she had to take a stand. She could not, would not, let her ladies fall fodder to her husband’s appetites.

  One lady in particular.

  “My ladies are my responsibility, my husband,” she said. “I am sure my father and the king would agree with me so, in this case, I will deal with Lady Lyssa. It is my right. I do not interfere in your business and you will not interfere in mine. I will, however, tell you what she says. Now, you will excuse me.”

  Grace darted from the chamber before he could make any further demands. Jago couldn’t help but notice she mentioned her father and the king in the same sentence, as men who would support her rights to attend to her women as she saw fit. Jago knew it was the truth and he was frustrated that an opportunity to speak with the lovely Lady Lyssa had slipped through his fingers thanks to his wife.

  Damnation. Now his head was throbbing even more than it had been and, annoyed and in pain, he fell back down to the bed and slapped the cold compress over his eyes. Even if he had been denied the opportunity to speak with Lady Lyssa, his time would come. The Wix was a vast place but it wasn’t so vast that, at some point, he wouldn’t come into contact with her. When he did, he planned to come to know what he could of the woman before ordering her into his bed. It didn’t matter to him that she was virgin; she wouldn’t be the first virgin he deflowered. But even thinking about that luscious body in his arms cause his manho
od to grow hard, an organ with a mind of its own, seeking out the next moist heat to plunge itself in to.

  Jago had an idea as to who his manhood’s next victim would be.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Westminster Palace

  Chamber of the Guard

  “… and after the party last night, God only knows how many noblemen with headaches we are going to have perusing the grounds,” Garret was saying. “Just remember that most, if not all of them, are John’s allies and have no business here at Westminster. We must remove them from the grounds as soon as possible.”

  He was speaking to a room full of knights and senior soldiers. It was early in the morning and the men from the night watch were just going to bed as men from the day watch were heading out to their posts. Garret was in command of fifty highly-trained knights but it was de Nerra, du Bois, Forbes, and Penden who formed his inner circle, men who weren’t relegated to a day watch or a night watch. They attended both watches, sleeping a mere few hours at a time, because that was the example that Garret had set for them.

  Zayin, too, was part of this group although it was in an unofficial capacity. Although the men in Garret’s command accepted Zayin as one of their own, the truth was that he was not an English knight. Some lesser-minded men saw him as the enemy, still, and it was a prejudice that Zayin had been forced to deal with. He was a dark-skinned Arab in a land of white-skinned English, and the English weren’t very accepting of those who were different from them.

  Still, Zayin took it all in stride and five years after leaving his homeland, he’d settled in with the English knights and went about his duties the same as they did, all of it directed at serving Garret, the man who had saved his life. That debt he owed the man had yet to be paid off. The longer Zayin remained in England, the more he wondered if it would be because he liked it here and he liked his friends.

  It had been a good life for him, in spite of everything.

  “How are we to remove John’s drunken guests, Garret?” Gart asked. Leaning against the wall next to Zayin, he projected in imposing figure with his shaved skull, high cheekbones, and muscular body. “John’s mercenaries have not left the grounds, either. I put additional guards on the royal residence last night to protect it against any of those mercenaries who might entertain any bright ideas of breaching it.”

  Garret was clearly displeased with the morning-after John’s lavish party. “Estimations were that John only had about two hundred men with him last night,” he said. “They were mostly concentrated at the gate and in the hall. Any that were found wandering were quickly chased back into the hall. I can summon a thousand soldiers to run those bastards right out of Westminster if need be, so I suggest we form groups and go after these mercenaries, wherever they may be hiding, to clear them out. Bodily thrown them from Westminster if you have to. In fact, Gart will be in charge of organizing the groups. Once the mercenaries are out, go about your business with the nobility but be polite. No use in starting a war simply because we do not want them here.”

  The knights nodded, looking at each other, agreeing with what they were being told. “Where is the prince?” Rhys asked. “I have not seen him since last night.”

  Garret glanced at the big knight with the brilliant blue eyes. “I am told he is in the royal residence, so he is still on the grounds. I will deal with him when the time comes, so you men go about your business. Rid this place of John’s supporters and we shall all sleep better tonight.”

  It was the end of his usual morning briefing and the senior soldiers began to filter out of the chamber, which was located in the great gatehouse, called South Gate, near the great hall and had a splendid view of the palace yard and the main gate. It was the place where the Royal Guard gathered, as they were now, and it was for Garret’s personal use as well, as the Captain of the Royal Guard.

  As the men began to filter out, followed by most of the knights, Garret’s inner circle remained behind because they knew there would be more instructions and conversation that didn’t involve the lesser ranks. Gart moved to pour himself some warmed, watered wine as Rhys and Knox hunted down the food that was on the table behind Garret. He’d had it brought to break his fast, but the bread and butter and boiled beef fell victim to those with appetites greater than his. Garret did manage to get a piece of warm bread before it disappeared.

  “What happened with Colchester’s party last night, Garret?” Gavin asked. “I went looking for you later in the evening but my sister said you had left with one of the duchess’ ladies.”

  It was a fairly innocent question, asked purely out of curiosity, but Garret hadn’t been expecting it. He wasn’t aware his men had known where he’d gone last night even though he’d been gone a few hours. In fact, he felt rather embarrassed by the question because he didn’t want to tell his men why he’d taken a woman away from Westminster and into London to seek entertainment. That would have sounded extremely foolish. Therefore, he struggled to come up with a modified version of the truth.

  “Did your sister tell you who the lady was?” he asked Gavin.

  The man shook his head. “I did not get that far,” he said. “She told me where you’d gone and then she suddenly demanded that I dance with her. I do not like dancing with my sister.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it makes me look pathetic. As if no other woman will dance with me!”

  Over at the table, Knox Penden snorted. “It is the truth, Gavin,” he said, his mouth full of bread. “With that face, you scare all of the women away.”

  Gavin lashed a hand in Knox’s direction and ended up thumping Rhys instead, which was never a good thing. Young though he might be, Rhys du Bois was a master of the double-swords, which he kept strapped to specially-made sheathes on his back. He wasn’t wearing his swords at the moment, but he had fists the size of a five-pound ham hock and he could strike a man unconscious with one blow.

  When Gavin realized he’d hit Rhys, he held up his hands to the man in supplication, hoping the young knight wasn’t angered with him. As Rhys decided whether or not to retaliate, Knox simply continued laughing at him.

  “I would not laugh if I were you, Penden,” Gavin said. “I shall strike you when you least expect it.”

  Knox wasn’t concerned. A truly likable man and a loyal friend, he simply shrugged and went back to the food. Garret watched the situation, hoping that Gavin’s question had been forgotten because of it but, unfortunately for him, Gavin’s curiosity wasn’t so easily cast aside.

  “Where did you take the lady last night?” he persisted. “And why you? If she was a Colchester woman, why not one of their men?”

  Garret washed down his bread with watered wine. “Because I happened to be there,” he said simply. “I was speaking with my brother when it came to my attention that Hawisa had asked to meet one of Colchester’s women. Of course, the woman was in a panic and since Rickard could not take her to safety, I volunteered. That is all there is to it.”

  Zayin, who was seated over by the hearth, kept his mouth shut. He was watching Garret casually answer the question and make it seem as if there was nothing to fuss over. Perhaps that was true, but there was more to it than what he was telling his colleagues. Still, that was no concern of Zayin’s, but it only confirmed to him that something about that lovely woman with the catch in her speech had Garret’s attention. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t have struggled to appear so casual about the situation.

  The wise, black-eyed knight was finally showing that he was human, after all.

  As Zayin pondered Garret’s surprising interest in a woman, Gavin seemed satisfied with Garret’s answer and let the subject go. Then conversation then turned to the party in general, comments on the entertainment and the food. Everyone seemed quite impressed with it, even if it had been given by the prince. Finally, with the food in the chamber eaten and the wine gone, the knights were about to leave to continue on with their duties when a familiar figure entered the solar.

  Hubert
Walter was the man who controlled England at this time. With the king in France, and John and his supporters restless, the mantle of defense fell upon Walter. In fact, it was Walter who commanded the Royal Guard as the Chief Justiciar, a position he had assumed when the former head of King Richard’s regency council had surrendered the position. A man with a noble family history, he was also the Bishop of Salisbury, deeply loyal to Richard and to England, and the moment he entered the damp coolness of the solar, all chatter stopped. Garret was the first one to greet him.

  “My lord,” he said. “A good morning to you.”

  Walter headed in the direction of the table with the food on it, putting a hand on Gavin’s shoulder as he passed by the man. Gaunt and middle-aged, he was a powerful man and wielded more power than any of his predecessors. He was also somewhat likable, and an excellent communicator, which endeared him to the rank and file. Garret and his knights were no exception; they respected Walter a great deal, far more than any other man who’d held the position.

  “I see it is business as usual this morning,” Walter said as Rhys handed the man the last half-cup of warmed wine. “After last night’s orgy, I was taking wagers on who, exactly, would be moving without pain this morning. You men look well enough.”

  Garret gave him a half-smile. “We were on duty, my lord,” he said, “and you know I do not allow my men to drink to excess on duty.”