At the sight of what were obviously men of standing, one of the Frenchmen came to the door and put his hands around two bars. He had black hair, dark eyes, and olive skin, making him look more Greek than French. However, he spoke in French to Geoffrey and his words were urgent. “We have done nothing! Have mercy!”
With a smothered laugh, I realized the man thought Geoffrey was the highest ranking nobleman here. I couldn’t blame him for thinking it. My shirt was sweat-stained from the ride from Canterbury to Dover, and while my borrowed tunic was in respectable shape, I still wore the breeches—much the worse for wear—that I’d put on at Canterbury Castle in the middle of the night. My boots were well and truly scuffed (Jeeves was going to have a heart attack when he saw them), and because it wasn’t raining, I’d shucked off the cloak I’d worn from the Archbishop’s palace.
I looked nothing like a king should, particularly as a Frenchman understood it. King Edward had been a warrior and the very definition of a man of action, and my style was similar to his. I tried to minimize the little traditions and rituals that had become ingrained in my court. King Philip’s court, on the other hand, was known for its ornate ceremonies and formalities, and Philip sweated only in private.
What I wasn’t wearing was my armor—and my Kevlar vest, damn it!—with the usual long surcoat emblazoned with my crest over the top. My wardrobe was buried under several tons of rubble back at Canterbury. I’d see what kind of condition the armor was in if and when the site was cleared and it was recovered. I had faith in Sir Thomas that he would get to work right away, but he had only hands, rather than heavy machinery, to help him.
Geoffrey must have realized the Frenchman’s mistake too, and in the same split second, decided to play his part. “Clear the room.”
Carew bent his head, his eyes flicking quickly to me. I tapped one finger down by my thigh to indicate that he should play along too. The two soldiers, who’d been guarding the spies and might not actually know who I was, bowed themselves out the door. Geoffrey and I hadn’t discussed how we would play this, but I was very much content for him to take the lead. If his plan was to make the Frenchmen think I was nothing but a servant, he’d hit upon an idea that might get them to talk.
I found a chair next to the table, sat in it, and kept my eyes on the stone floor. I tried to make myself small and inconsequential, which is hard to do when one is six foot two. Fortunately, Geoffrey kept the Frenchmen’s attention on him by saying, also in French, “I am Geoffrey de Geneville, Baron of Trim. Tell me your names.”
I looked up in time to see the faces of both Frenchmen fill with eager hope, indicating they recognized the name. If they were connected to the French court, they should have known who Geoffrey’s brother was.
The first Frenchman, who continued to lead, said, “We are brothers, Jacques and Piers de Reims. We are here on commission from our father, seeking English wool for weaving into fine garments.”
Geoffrey studied them for a moment, one eyebrow raised, probably noting, as I had, that they looked nothing alike. Piers, Jacques’ supposed brother, had sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Piers was shorter than Jacques, too, by several inches.
“You were stopped on board a boat that did not depart from the harbor,” Geoffrey said. “You had no certificate to show you’d paid the mooring fee or had your ship inspected.”
“An oversight. Please let us pay the fine, and we’ll never break the rules again.” Jacques affected a sheepish look, which I found ironic given his purported business. Besides, no reputable trader would risk losing his cargo for lack of a few pence to pay the port master.
“Your ship contained no samples. You had no papers on your person indicating your business,” Geoffrey said.
“We found no wool that pleased us, and we lost our papers overboard during our arrest,” Jacques said.
He had an answer for everything, but Geoffrey was having none of it. He made a chopping motion with his hand. “You and I both know that you are not merchants. I can help you, but you have to be honest with me about your true business in England.”
I returned my eyes to the ground and stilled my leg, which had been bouncing up and down under the table—a habit I often couldn’t help when I was sitting. Above all, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Jacques hadn’t asked who I was, and by now I hoped that he’d forgotten I was even in the room. He would never talk if he knew I was the king, other than perhaps to beg for his life.
Jacques glanced at Piers, who, after initial interest, had spent the conversation sitting on the floor. Now Piers got to his feet and came forward to stand beside Jacques. It occurred to me that his disinterest had been feigned, and that it was really he who was the leader, rather than his brother.
Piers said, “I have been to your brother’s court. He speaks well of you. You have been a friend to France.”
“I have. My brother and I are very close. I was at King Philip’s court last year, and we discussed matters of—” Geoffrey’s paused, and I gave him credit for not glancing towards me, “—mutual concern.”
“Then you know what a difficult few years this has been since the loss of—” Piers stopped, and this time he did look at me.
I’d been watching him out of the corner of my eye as he spoke, pretending to study my fingernails. I didn’t move, hoping Piers was assuming now that I was one of Geoffrey’s English lackeys and didn’t speak French well. Or at the very least was uninterested in their conversation.
When I didn’t look up or give any indication that I was listening, he added, “—the loss of King Edward. He and Philip’s father might have had their differences, but he was the rightful heir to Aquitaine. Now—”
“Now it is a mare’s nest of claimants, none of whom have clear title, especially King David,” Geoffrey finished for him.
“And yet, he is obviously the most powerful adversary Philip faces,” Jacques said.
Jacques and Piers let Geoffrey think about that for a minute. So far, they hadn’t entirely given the game away, though they were close. Geoffrey was proving to be a masterful questioner, and I was glad he was on my side today. I was pretty sure I knew what matters of mutual concern he’d discussed with King Philip last year, even after he’d bowed to me and sworn fealty. He’d been speaking the truth about that. In a way, I would have been disappointed to learn that Geoffrey wasn’t playing both sides against the middle.
“King Philip must be very disturbed indeed by King David’s claim to Aquitaine if he sent you,” Geoffrey said. “It was bold of him to enlist the papal envoy to assist him.”
“You know about that?” Jacques said before Piers’ hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
Geoffrey picked at his lower lip with the nail of his pinky finger. “I have my spies too. What isn’t as clear to me is the pope’s hand in all this.”
Jacques and Piers exchanged a glance, but neither replied.
“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me,” Geoffrey said. “If I’m to stick my neck out for you and lie to the king, I need to know everything you know. I hate surprises—and I would hate to discover after the fact that you were keeping something from me that would have made the difference between success and failure.”
Piers hesitated for another few seconds, but then finally he said, “We don’t know.”
“If our companion hadn’t been captured by King David’s men, we would have been able to tell you more,” Jacques said.
I managed to control my startled reaction. Geoffrey, for his part, canted his head and said, “He was imprisoned by King David?”
Piers snorted in disgust. “It had been determined that it was too dangerous to speak with the papal legate directly, so Acquasparta arranged to arrest Guillaume as a heretic. They would have had plenty of time to talk, and nobody would have thought anything of the attention the legate paid him. But the plan went awry, and Guillaume ended up in King David’s custody instead.”
My God. The heretic was a plant. I could
still see the fear in the man’s face and the blood on his head. At the time both had appeared completely genuine. Certainly the crowd had been. What a debacle.
“You abandoned him?” Geoffrey said, allowing disdain at this dishonorable behavior to enter his voice.
“The mission is the most important thing,” Piers said. “We were due in France and time was of the essence.”
Jacques looked eagerly into Geoffrey’s face. “Can you free us?”
“I need to know first about your contact within King David’s court,” Geoffrey said. “A man named Lee, I believe?”
Piers made a guttural sound at the back of his throat. “If you already know it all, why are you asking me? Nothing I say should come as a surprise to you. Is the news from Canterbury true? The king is dead?”
“The castle is destroyed,” Geoffrey said, as if he hadn’t heard about it only a half-hour before. “I can’t say about the king.”
“Ah,” Piers said.
“How did you know what happened in Canterbury if you left yesterday? No word of anything that happened there last night had come to me before I spoke to the castellan here,” Geoffrey said. “Did you hear about it from Lee?”
“No.” Jacques ran a hand through his black hair. “But he swore it would be done, and we overheard talk among our jailers in the last hour that the castle had, indeed, fallen.”
Piers nodded, more to himself than to Geoffrey. “King David must still be alive. That is why Sir Stephen gave no sign of discomfit, and the flag still flies above the gatehouse.”
“Perhaps,” Geoffrey said.
Jacques pushed away from the bars, clearly frustrated. “Lee failed.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Geoffrey said. “He did bring down Canterbury Castle.”
Piers tapped a finger to his lips. “But the king wasn’t in it. King Philip should hear of this as soon as possible. Lee reached too far beyond his abilities.”
“He has betrayed us!” Jacques’ color was high and his mouth in a grimace. Somehow a switch had been flipped inside him, and he was in a rage. He clutched the bars of his cell, twisting his hands as if he could wrench them apart. “You must get us out now! Whether or not the king is dead, Canterbury Castle is no more. Sir Stephen might believe we had a hand in it and keep us here.”
“You did have a hand in it,” Geoffrey said.
Piers waved a hand dismissively, unaffected by Jacques’ rage. “Lee came to us. We listened. That is all.”
“You gave him money,” Geoffrey said, not as a question.
“Of course,” Piers said, “and encouragement. But we had no part in what he chose to do with it. We didn’t help.”
Geoffrey smirked. “Everyone needs to be able to stand before their lord and deny all responsibility, do they not?”
Piers canted his head. “Our instructions were quite specific.”
“And what were they?”
Now that Geoffrey was their friend, Jacques was a font of information. “To find the traitor in King David’s court we’d heard about and aid him if we could.”
“I see,” Geoffrey said. “Is it in Philip’s mind that if King David were to die, the throne would be vacant but for a three-year-old boy? England needs a strong king, and Philip has as much claim to the English throne as King David does to Aquitaine.”
“Exactly,” Jacques said.
I thought about taking offense but decided not to. It wasn’t as if Philip was wrong; he had more right to the throne of England than I had to Aquitaine.
“We did little, in truth,” Piers said, with a glance at his more voluble companion.
“If King David were dead, what would be King Philip’s next move? Invasion?” Geoffrey said.
“Yes,” Jacques said.
Piers gripped his companion’s arm and glowered at him. Jacques seemed to think that getting on Geoffrey’s good side meant telling him everything in the most confident way possible, whereas Piers wanted to be more circumspect. A smile twitched around Geoffrey’s mouth, but he didn’t look at me. My eyes bored into his back, and perhaps he could feel them because he rolled his shoulders while the two Frenchmen warred at each other without speaking.
Finally, Piers turned back to Geoffrey. He fisted his hand and beat it into the bar of his cell. “King Philip has two thousand men who will sail on his word.”
“When?” Geoffrey said.
“We released the pigeon before we sailed.” Piers’ upper lip lifted to form a disgruntled sneer. “He’s coming now, and nobody can stop him.”
“But David isn’t dead.”
“We told him that we didn’t know the outcome for certain. There are factions in Philip’s court who support an invasion without regard to the success of Lee’s plan. They are loath to rely upon the actions of one Englishman, and believe Philip is strong enough to overcome any opposition.”
That, to me, sounded like people were telling Philip what he wanted to hear rather than the truth. But of course, I was biased.
“Where will he land?”
Piers shrugged. “We don’t know.”
“What about Ireland?” Geoffrey said. “What’s King Philip’s interest there?”
Piers’ brow furrowed. “I don’t know. It was Guillaume who spoke with Lee in that regard.”
“Guillaume was your leader?” Geoffrey said.
Piers nodded.
The trickle of unease I’d been feeling at the back of my neck turned into a torrent as I recalled that the heretic had departed the castle after the evening meal yesterday. If Lee hadn’t left Canterbury until the next morning, the two could have met up again. They could be working together still.
And even if they weren’t, Guillaume hadn’t come to Dover and connected with his fellow spies, which meant that he, too, was roaming freely around my country. Geoffrey didn’t know that, however—and nor did Jacques or Pier—or the conversation might have been headed in a different direction.
Geoffrey said, “I want to speak to Lee. Where is he?”
“I do not know that either,” Piers said. “We offered him a place on our ship, but he declined. He said he would make his own way to the French court once his business in England was complete.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Surely Lee couldn’t believe any place in England would be safe for him after what he did,” Geoffrey said.
“He told us he’d made his own plans,” Piers said. “Besides, with the king dead, who was there to realize what he’d done?”
Piers had a point there. Lee would have murdered me, my immediate family, and half my advisers in one blow. It was only because of Bevyn’s arrival that we had known that Lee was dangerous. I felt a curl of satisfaction in my belly. We’d been lucky, but we’d been good too, and sometimes the good made their own luck.
“So you have no idea where he might be now?” Geoffrey said.
“No,” Piers said.
The interview was over. I refrained from standing up and calling attention to myself, even though I really wanted to. Carew, if he knew about it, would have been beside me in a flash, whispering wise and calming words in my ear. I let my own sense guide me, however, and didn’t move or say anything. If Geoffrey concluded this conversation successfully, without me giving the game away, he could continue to be a spy for me to the French. I wasn’t going to blow his cover.
Instead, he blew his own by turning to look at me. “Is there anything else you would like to ask them?”
I’d been watching my feet, and it took a moment for me to realize Geoffrey was talking to me. I looked up, saw his questioning glance, and stood to approach the cell. Geoffrey must have decided there was no danger to himself in revealing who I was and the false pretenses under which he’d questioned the Frenchmen because their lives were forfeit. I supposed he was right. I owed him now, and strangely, I didn’t mind the debt. He’d done me a considerable favor today.
“How did you know there was a traitor in the king’s household in the
first place?” I said.
“Who are you?” Piers said.
“Answer his question, and he will tell you,” Geoffrey said in a sharp voice.
Piers gave him a wary look but then answered amicably enough, “We’ve been hearing rumors about it for months.”
“But how did you know his identity?” I said.
“From one of the ladies-in-waiting to the queen,” Piers said, and named a woman I might not know to look at, though I’d heard her name. “She befriended the man and passed word to us that he held no love for King David—and that he might be interested in speaking to others who shared his disdain.”
I let out a slow breath. I would deal with the woman in due course, but for now … “We’re still talking about Lee, correct?”
Piers brows came together in puzzlement. “Was there someone else?”
That, in itself, was a huge relief. I didn’t know if I could handle any more traitors today. “What about his companions, Mike and Noah?”
“They spoke little, and no French at all,” Jacques said. “We can tell you nothing about them. They were Lee’s companions, whom he’d brought for protection, as if we could be overpowered by any brute.” He snorted his derision.
“Were you aware that all three men were from Avalon?” I said.
Jacques scoffed. “A fairy story. There’s no such place.”
“Isn’t there?” I said.
Piers folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not saying any more until you tell me who you are.”
“He’s your only hope for getting out of here in one piece,” Geoffrey said.
“Though I regret to say that the odds of that have become vanishingly small,” I said. “Continue to cooperate, and we’ll see.” I turned towards the door, gesturing that Geoffrey should come with me.
“Tell me your name!” Piers said from behind me.
My hand on the frame of the door, I stopped to look back. I wasn’t choosing to tell him because of his insistence, but because of the sheer joy of it, “David Llywelyn Arthur Pendragon, King of England. You may have heard of me.”
Warden of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book 8) Page 17