A curious evening was about to get interesting.
“We must hurry,” Christin said to Susanna. “We are to cover the duke’s solar where the map decoys are.”
Susanna was right behind her. “Do you know this keep well?”
“Well enough,” Christin said. “On the day we arrived, I had one of the duke’s daughters show me around. I pretended to be impressed with the place so she showed me everything. I’m confident I know where we’re going.”
Susanna stayed close to her, considering she hadn’t been anywhere in the keep other than the great hall. The corridors were dark, with closed doors, and barely a hint of light except for occasional torches in their iron sconces. They rounded a corner and were faced with great double doors ahead, shadowed and dark in the dim light. The corridor here was lined with wooden panels, elaborately carved, and Christin took Susanna by the hand.
“Quickly,” she whispered. “Come this way.”
Susanna followed, though her free hand was on the hilt of the small sword she kept sheathed on her hip. A large cut in the fold of her skirts allowed her to get to the sword easily. Susanna was a tall woman, and strong, and had trained at the infamous Blackchurch knight’s school in Devon. Only the best of the best were accepted and only the very best in the world managed to finish the training.
Susanna had been one of those.
Therefore, she was the perfect weapon in a fight, meant to both protect and assist Christin as the woman took the lead. Christin pushed on one of the carved wooden panels and the thing gave way, revealing a hidden servant’s corridor. It was pitch black so she grabbed one of the torches lining the corridor before they entered, shutting the panel behind them.
“What is this place?” Susanna hissed.
Christin put her fingers to her lips to silence her. “A servant’s passage,” she said. “De Vaston’s daughter took great delight in showing it to me. She said that this is where she and her sisters spy on their father. Look.”
She was pointing to two panels that, when removed, provided a peep hole into the chamber beyond. Putting the torch well away from them so the flickering light wouldn’t be seen when they opened the panels, they carefully slid out two small pieces of wood, revealing tiny holes in the wall.
But they were enough to see by.
The great solar beyond was dim except for the fire in the hearth, giving off a nominal amount of light. Almost immediately, they could see that there was someone in the chamber, standing over the great table that had the decoy maps on it. Christin and Susanna watched, trying to see who it was, when the figure picked up a one of the maps and brought it over to the firelight to see better.
Christin let out a hiss. “That is Lord Prescombe’s companion.”
Susanna could see the woman, too. “Then it wasn’t him we had to worry over.”
Christin shook her head and replaced the panel very carefully. “Nay,” she said. “He is leading the men on a wild goose chase while his companion gathers the information. We must move swiftly.”
Susanna replaced her panel, too, and unsheathed her sword. “I will cover the main entry,” she said. “You enter through the servant’s entrance.”
Christin nodded quickly. “I will flush her to you.”
Susanna was on the move, swiftly and quietly exiting the servant’s hall, as Christin went to the small servant’s door that led into the solar. She was armed with a bejeweled dagger, one she always kept on her person. It was long and thin and quite dangerous, sheathed against her right thigh. Lifting her skirts, she unsheathed her weapon and silently opened the door.
Prescombe’s companion was still by the hearth, reading the map. She hadn’t noticed Christin as the woman entered from the shadows. Even as Christin drew closer, the woman still didn’t look up and when Christin was about ten feet from her, she came to a halt. To go any closer would be dangerous.
“You will not make it back to Philip with that information, you know,” she said quietly.
The woman gasped, startled, and the map fell into the hearth. As it began to catch fire, she stood up and faced Christin.
“I suppose that remains to be seen,” she said. “Who is going to stop me? You?”
Christin smiled thinly. She was smaller than the woman, but she was also as fast as a cat and armed with a dagger that could do a great deal of damage. She wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Aye,” she said simply. “Me and several of William Marshal’s agents. In fact, they should have Lord Prescombe in their custody now. He is not going to be able to tell Philip anything, either.”
The map in the hearth was beginning to flame, dark smoke billowing up. The woman stepped away from the hearth, keeping her attention on Christin.
“I know you,” she said. “You are the one who approached Lord Prescombe and then you sat at that table with The Marshal’s allies. Whose whore are you?”
That brought a genuine smile from Christin, a dazzling gesture. “Because you are a whore, you assume that I am, also,” she said. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am no one’s whore.”
The woman, up until that point, had held a calm and composed expression, but with Christin’s sharp tongue, it was beginning to tighten.
“I cannot let you leave this chamber alive,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I was about to say the same thing to you.”
The woman looked her up and down, sizing her up. Then, she gestured to the hearth. “Your map is burning,” she said. “There will be no invasion. Everything is going up in smoke and your plans are finished, at least for now. I accomplished something this night.”
“You would have had that been the correct map.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Do you mean to tell me…?” she said, torn between surprise and outrage. “I saw what was on that map. It was greatly detailed.”
“You saw a decoy.”
The woman’s mouth popped open as outrage won over. “That is a lie!”
Christin shook her head. “Do you truly believe the real map with the real plans would be laying out for anyone to see? You’re dumber than you look and a poor spy in any case. You deserve to be caught.”
The woman stiffened. “And your tongue is reckless, little girl,” she snarled. “You have no idea what is happening, do you? Even as you make plans against Philip, he is already ten steps ahead of you. You have already lost but you do not know it yet.”
Christin remained cool. “There is nothing Philip could do to defeat the English. That is clear by the caliber of the spies he sends.”
The woman clenched her teeth. “Stupid girl. You do not even know that the danger, for England, is already here. It is right under your nose. God will see you all punished.”
With that, she suddenly charged at Christin, who was far enough away that she had time to bring forth the razor-sharp dagger. Just as the woman was upon her, she shoved it deep into the woman’s chest, grabbing her by the hair and slipping a foot in front of her. With a cry, the woman tripped with a great deal of help from Christin, who yanked her right down to the ground.
The woman was mortally wounded, but she managed to grab hold of Christin by the hair. Enraged, and fearing for her life, Christin removed the dagger and stabbed the woman again, twice more, until she stopped fighting.
Blood sprayed onto her, marking her, but she wisely tossed the dagger away, far away, so the dying woman couldn’t take it from her and try to use it against her. Instead, she ended up in a dominant position over the woman, her hands around the spy’s neck, squeezing the life from her as the woman bled out all over the floor.
“Speak not of God and punishment,” she grunted, using all of her might to squeeze. “For in this room, God ends here.”
At that moment, the door to the solar burst open and Susanna charged in, fully prepared for a fight but quickly seeing that Christin had already subdued the spy. She saw that Christin was also covered in blood. Seeing this, and believing that Christin must have been
hurt, Susanna lifted her sword and cut the woman’s head off. Blood splattered everywhere.
The battle was instantly quelled.
“Christin?” Susanna said with great concern, pulling the woman off of the decapitated body. “Are you injured? Where did she hurt you?”
Christin shook her head. Her manner was as cool and hard as a rock, as if she’d not just been in a fight for life and death.
“I am not hurt,” she said. “This is her blood. She attacked me and I was forced to kill her.”
Susanna breathed a sigh of relief, looking over at the woman’s body on the ground. “Thank God you are not hurt,” she said. “But that woman…”
At that moment, Alexander rushed into the chamber, sword in hand. He, too, was ready for a battle. One look at the decapitated corpse on the floor and his shocked gaze moved to Christin and Susanna.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Christin’s gaze lingered on the bloody mess. “Prescombe leaving the hall was a ruse,” she said. “He did it to lure all of you out so his companion could look for information on John’s invasion.”
Alexander sheathed his sword, bending over the body and visually examining it for a moment before he began to pat down her skirts, looking for anything she might have on her possession.
“We figured that out,” he said. “Prescombe is in custody and The Marshal wants to interrogate him. He wanted to interrogate his companion, as well, but that is clearly not going to happen.”
Christin watched Alexander frisk the woman’s undergarments, looking for secret pockets or anything else that might be hidden. He was silent and efficient, doing what needed to be done.
Calm, cool, and collected.
Christin didn’t know Alexander de Sherrington personally. The first time they’d met had been tonight, with brief introductions. She knew him by reputation, of course. She’d heard her father talking about the man everyone called Sherry. Her father had said that he was an enigma, a man until himself, and one of the most elite warriors in all of England. According to Christopher, they didn’t come any greater or any smarter than Alexander de Sherrington.
In truth, she’d been intimidated by him the moment she met him.
He was very big, and very tall, and quite handsome. He had close-cropped black hair, and dark eyes, and a trim, dark beard that embraced his square jaw. When he smiled, which she’d seen tonight, he had big white teeth in great contrast to that dark beard. His smile was infectious and his laugh booming, but it was all a deception. According to her father, he was one of the more deadly men in The Marshal’s arsenal.
An assassin beyond compare.
Now, that handsome assassin was focused on the body in front of him and as he rolled the dead woman onto her stomach, Christin broke away from Susanna and went to find the dagger she’d tossed across the chamber. More men were entering the solar now; Bric, the big Irishman, and Cullen, a tall and handsome knight she had seen at Norwich Castle before. He was a friend of her brother, Peter’s. Both Bric and Cullen were standing over Alexander as he thoroughly searched the body. Bric looked over at the women.
“What happened?” he asked.
Susanna looked at Christin as she rejoined them, her dagger in her hand. “Susanna and I caught her in here, reading the map we’d left out as a decoy,” Christin said. Then, she pointed over to the charred map in the hearth. “She burned that map on purpose, thinking it was the plan’s for John’s invasion. When I caught her, she told me that she could not let me leave the room alive.”
“And she attacked you?” Bric asked.
Christin nodded. “I had no choice but to defend myself.”
At that point, Alexander stood up, pointing at the detached head. “Who did that? You?”
“I did,” Susanna said. “Christin came in through the servant’s alcove and surprised the woman. I was waiting at the entry doors for Christin to flush her out, but the woman attacked Christin instead. By the time I entered, they were on the floor struggling, or at least I thought they were. Christin had blood on her and I assumed she was injured, so I disabled her adversary.”
Alexander took a few steps towards Christin, looking at the blood on her hands and the splatter on her bodice. Those dark eyes were piercing. “You’re going to have to change your clothing,” he said. “You cannot return to the hall like that.”
Christin glanced down at herself. “I know,” she said, looking up to Alexander, who was quite a bit taller than she was. “Before she attacked me, she said something strange. She told me that I did not know that the danger, for England, was already here. She said it was right under my nose.”
Alexander’s dark-eyed gaze lingered on her. “She could have just said that to throw you off,” he said. “But it’s equally possible she meant it.”
“You may want to ask her companion about it.”
Alexander nodded. “I will, indeed,” he said, looking at the body on the floor. “It is a pity she had to attack you. She might have told us what she meant had she not been so foolish as to advance against a woman unafraid to use a dagger.”
He was voicing a regret and nothing more, but Susanna stepped up to defend her.
“Christin fought bravely,” she said. “She kept her head in a difficult situation. She did what she had to do.”
Alexander looked at Susanna, whom he knew well. He’d been on many an adventure with the lady warrior. “I know,” he said. “She confronted the spy we were all looking for and is to be commended for her actions. I did not mean to intimate otherwise. But she must return to the hall as if nothing has happened and she cannot go covered in blood. I doubt her father would appreciate that.”
“Sherry.” Peter was suddenly in the doorway, looking at the carnage with some shock. “The Marshal is looking for you. Is that the other spy?”
He was pointing to the body and Alexander nodded. “Aye,” he said, glancing at Christin. “She made the deadly mistake of attacking a de Lohr.”
There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said it and even Susanna flashed a grin, looking to her young friend. Christin may have looked like an angel, but she was a de Lohr to the bone. But Peter took one look at his sister, covered with gore, and nearly came apart.
“Cissy,” he gasped, coming into the chamber. “What in the hell happened? Are you injured?”
Christin could see that Peter needed reassurance and she went to him, taking him by the arm. “Not to worry, dear brother,” she said soothingly. “’Tis just a little bit of blood. It will wash right off.”
But Peter wasn’t convinced. “Are you hurt?”
“I am not hurt. It is her blood, not mine.”
Peter sighed heavily. “Christ, you gave me a scare,” he said. “We must get you cleaned up before Papa sees you. He is already wondering what has become of you.”
Christin let go of him and quickly gathered her skirts. “Then I had better clean up in a hurry,” she said. “It would not do for Papa to see me covered in blood. I might have some explaining to do, which I do not wish to do at this time.”
She bolted from the chamber with Peter right behind her. Once she was gone, Alexander shook his head as he returned his focus to the body. “I suppose I should not have expected less from a de Lohr,” he said. “I had heard tale Lady Christin was fearless. I suppose the proof is at my feet.”
He was referring to the body. Susanna nodded. “Christin may be young, but she is mature beyond her years,” she said. “She has the makings of a great agent.”
“But only if her father doesn’t find out.”
“Precisely.”
“I feel as if we are all keeping a very big secret from de Lohr. He will not be happy if, and when, he finds out.”
“I am sure he will not be. Would you?”
“Hell, no.”
The subject of Christin de Lohr dropped as Alexander, Bric, and Cullen removed the body and its head, leaving Susanna to find something to clean up the blood with. When she finished, it would look like
nothing was ever amiss in Savernake’s great solar.
All evidence wiped clean.
William Marshal’s agents would make sure of it.
No trace.
CHAPTER ONE
Farringdon House
Two days later
“And that was what she said to you?” William Marshal asked. “There was no mistake?”
Christin was sitting in William Marshal’s lavish solar, the one that covered nearly half of the second floor of The Marshal’s opulent London townhome. The walls were painted wooden panels, with scenes from Greek mythology, perhaps more lavish than a man like The Marshal would like, but his wife had insisted. It was the fashion of the season last year when Savoy artisans had been brought in from France. Therefore, he sat beneath the watchful gaze of Zeus and Hera and Ares, all of them lending judgment to the man’s activities as he controlled the power of England.
Christin had been in the chamber before, several times. She had come with her father once or twice when she had been younger, and then with Peter when the man brought her to The Marshal because Christin had expressed interest in serving England’s greatest knight.
Because she was a de Lohr, The Marshal had permitted her to help Peter when he went about his duties for The Marshal, but Christin took to covert activities very quickly. Faster than Peter had, in fact. Within a year of her first meeting with The Marshal, she was undertaking her own missions on his behalf.
Therefore, sitting in William’s solar was nothing new. But in this case, she was explaining what happened that night in the Duke of Savernake’s solar. Surrounded by most of the men who had been there that night, she tried not to feel intimidated by the situation, as if she’d done something wrong by defending herself.
“There was no mistaking what she said, my lord,” she said steadily. “The woman told me that the danger was already in England, right under our noses.”
William’s gaze lingered on her, pondering that statement. “But she did not say what?”
“Nay, my lord.”
“Go over the conversation with me once more.”
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 2