Christin thought back to that night. “She seemed to know what she was doing, my lord,” she said. “She was reading the map quite ably when I entered Savernake’s solar. When she realized I had found her out, she told me she could not let me leave the chamber alive. I knew she meant to kill me, which is why I was forced to kill her when she attacked me.”
“Go on.”
Christin shrugged. “She burned the decoy map intentionally,” she said. “She told me that there would be no invasion now. When I told her that she’d burned the wrong map, she became enraged. She said, exactly, that I have no idea what is going on and that even as we make plans, Philip is already ten steps ahead. She said that we have already lost, but do not know it yet, and that the danger for England is already here and under our noses.”
“And that is everything?”
“It is, my lord.”
William sighed heavily, sitting back in his chair and mulling over what his young agent had told him. She was quite composed and very much like her father in that respect. She had only seen eighteen years, but she had a maturity that went well beyond that. His gaze moved to the men standing back in the shadows of the chamber, listening.
“Sherry,” he said. “You heard none of this?”
Alexander stepped out of the darkness. “Nay, my lord. I came into the chamber after Susanna had cut the woman’s head off.”
Susanna wasn’t there to confirm his story because she and Achilles had already headed home, back to their very small children whom they did not like to leave without both mother and father for too long. Cullen had also departed for his garrison at Rockingham Castle and Dashiell had remained at Ramsbury. But Peter, Kevin, and Bric had come to London, along with Maxton and Kress. It was Maxton who spoke next.
“Prescombe has proved useless,” he said. “It is my assessment, and Sherry’s, that he was led around by the woman Christin killed because he truly seems to be a dullard. The woman appears to have been the driving force behind his actions.”
Maxton was the unofficial leader of the Executioner Knights, a man of little humor, of serious demeanor, and of deadly intentions. He wasn’t a man to cross, but he was fair and honest in all things. William’s focus shifted to him.
“Where is Prescombe now?” he asked.
“In your vault,” Maxton said. “I am surprised you cannot hear him screaming from here.”
William smiled, humorlessly. “I cannot, but I am grateful my wife is not in residence. She can hear a rat squeal a mile away, yet she cannot hear me when I tell her something important.”
Maxton lifted a dark eyebrow. “Prescombe is going to be trouble,” he said. “The man has money and a reasonably-sized army, and if we release him, he will run right to Philip and tell him what has happened.”
The Marshal’s expression was unapologetic. “That will not happen because he will never leave here alive,” he said. “But nothing will happen to him until we are finished with him. There may be more he is not telling us.”
“We have interrogated him for nearly two days,” Kress said, coming out of the shadows to stand next to Maxton. “He is either the most resistant spy alive or the dumbest. With everything we’ve done to him, he has not spilled anything of note.”
With everything we’ve done to him. That bespoke of nasty interrogation methods the Executioner Knights had learned in The Levant. William wasn’t squeamish by any means but he didn’t ask for details, especially with Christin in the chamber. He trusted Kress at his word.
“Then give him a few more days and every opportunity to tell us what he knows before you end his life,” he said. “But I am interested to know if, indeed, he is holding back. His companion spoke of danger already being in England. I want to know what that means. See if you can find out.”
Maxton and Kress nodded, glancing at Alexander before quitting the chamber, but Alexander stopped them.
“Wait,” he said. “It occurs to me that keeping Prescombe alive might work better to our advantage.”
“Why?” William asked.
“Because we can feed the man false information and he can report that back to Philip,” he said. “Certainly, he will report the death of his companion, but he doesn’t know the circumstances. In fact, he doesn’t know anything at all. Only what we tell him.”
William was listening with great interest. “Excellent point,” he said. “We can tell Prescombe anything. Mayhap we can even lead Philip’s armies into something to greatly diminish them.”
“An ambush?”
“Or worse.”
That suggestion had the approval of Maxton and Kress. “Then we must figure out what to tell him,” Maxton said. “We can make it so the man can escape back to Philip and tell him everything we want Philip to know.”
As Kress and Alexander nodded in agreement, William held up a hand. “Indeed, we can and we will. But at this moment, I am more concerned over the cryptic words of danger that the woman spy spoke of,” he said. “Forget about John’s plans of invasion in Normandy for a moment. I have said this before and I shall say it again – John may be a thorn in the side of every Englishman, but he is still our monarch. It behooves us to keep him alive because our alternative is a six-year-old heir. The only real danger in England is a direct threat to the monarchy. That is the only real way England herself would weaken. Would you agree?”
Everyone nodded to certain degrees and William continued.
“The woman said that danger was right under our noses,” he muttered thoughtfully. Then, he looked to Alexander. “What does that mean to you?”
Alexander shrugged. “Something obvious that we do not realize.”
William looked to Maxton expectantly. “The same,” Maxton said.
William moved to Kress. “And you?”
Kress cocked his head thoughtfully. “Mayhap something that we cannot see more than it is something obvious we do not suspect,” he said. “That would make more sense to me. Subversion under our noses that we simply cannot see.”
“Someone we would never suspect,” Christin said softly.
Her voice was soft, unexpected, and the men all looked at her. “Speak up, my lady,” William said. “You have the de Lohr mind. I will listen. You said someone we would never suspect?”
After a moment of hesitation, Christin nodded firmly. “If danger is under our noses, then it would make sense it would be someone we would never suspect,” she said. “Wouldn’t the greatest danger be from someone we trusted who was not who we thought he was?”
It was an astute observation from a young woman who had not spent years in the espionage game. William nodded faintly; he agreed with her for the most part. But he wasn’t a man to pin everything on one theory.
There was more to this situation than met the eye.
“That would make sense,” he said. “But it could be any number of things, so we must not focus on one thing only. I will stand by my opinion that, somehow, John is under threat and that threat is in this country. Something greater than all of the other threats we face. We will reach out to our network to see if anyone has seen or heard anything, but until we receive answers, it is important that John is watched. I believe he is attending a feast in his honor at Norwich Castle in a fortnight. Lady Christin, you would know this to be true.”
Christin nodded quickly. “Aye, my lord,” she said. “Lord de Winter is having a feast in celebration of the king’s birthday, which is next month. He has invited all of his allies to attend.”
“A threat under our noses,” Alexander murmured thoughtfully. When everyone looked at him, his gaze moved to Christin, sitting straight in the chair opposite The Marshal. “It could be one of the allies.”
Christin didn’t want to agree or disagree. These men were the greatest minds in the land, just like her father, and she wasn’t so arrogant as to believe she could match wits or opinions with them. So, she simply smiled, without humor, the flash of a smile that was noncommittal because, truly, she had no business giving A
lexander her opinion. But as she stared at the man and he stared back, she realized one thing –
His eyes were hypnotic.
She was looking into greatness. She knew that. Alexander de Sherrington was a name she’d heard for the past year, solidly, to the point where even Peter had built Alexander up into something legendary. She didn’t know what to expect when she finally met him, perhaps a marble god from the top of the Parthenon, but she’d never expected the man to be such a handsome beast. It had been difficult for her to take her eyes from him since the moment she met him.
Something about him was dark, delicious, and enticing.
But he was far beyond her reach. She knew that. Men like Alexander de Sherrington didn’t attach themselves to women in any way because their vocation was their wife and mistress. They were men of warfare and death, and what was she?
Absolutely nothing.
In fact, Christin knew that she’d probably said too much already in this meeting even though The Marshal had been kind about it. Still… throughout this entire gathering, she had the distinct feeling that she’d made a mistake when she killed the French agent. Perhaps a more experienced agent would not have, realizing the French agent would have been a valuable prisoner.
It was a mistake that was starting to haunt her.
As she sat there and pondered the greater implications of her actions, The Marshal suddenly barked.
“Bric,” he said sharply.
Bric stepped out of the shadows. “My lord?”
William turned to look at him. “You are heading back to Narborough, are you not?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Then you will ride with Peter and Lady Christin back to Norwich first,” he said. “I want you to inform Old Daveigh de Winter of what we have discovered so he knows what is happening. The king will be under the man’s roof and he should know if we suspect turmoil. Then you will continue on to Narborough and tell his nephew, Young Daveigh, what is happening. When John’s feast occurs, I expect you and your liege to be there.”
Bric nodded shortly. “Aye, my lord.”
With that directive given, William turned to speak to the last knight in the room. “De Lara?”
Kevin de Lara stepped forward, almost hidden back in the recesses where he’d been waiting. He wasn’t as tall as some of the men around him, making it easier to overlook him, but that was a mistake. He had the strength of Samson. There wasn’t a man in that room who would voluntarily tangle with him, trained assassins included. Kevin wasn’t an assassin or a dirty dealer like Alexander or Maxton; quite the contrary. He was a knight to the bone, pious and noble.
Kevin was the group’s white knight.
“My lord?” he answered.
William’s gaze lingered on the powerful knight. “You will be going with them, as well,” he said. “Along with Sherry and Peter and Bric, I will need your eyes and ears on what is going on at Norwich. This means you may be forced to interact with your brother. Can you do this?”
Kevin’s expression didn’t change, but those who knew what William meant were all thinking the same thing – beneath Kevin’s professional facade was the fact that his older brother, Sean de Lara, had defected into the service of King John had built himself a frightening and brutal reputation as a knight known as Lord of the Shadows.
At least, that was what everyone thought. But those in The Marshal’s inner circle, including Kevin, knew the truth.
Sean was The Marshal’s greatest weapon.
It was no secret that Kevin was greatly disappointed in the path his talented brother had taken, choosing to damage the family’s reputation by taking on such a brutal task. It was something Kevin disagreed with wholeheartedly but, professional as he was, he never spoke a word of it. He would die before revealing what he knew about his brother, so the secret was safe.
But the pain of the estrangement was real.
Therefore, no one really spoke of Sean de Lara to Kevin, so for William to bring it up openly was something that simply wasn’t done. Alexander, in particular, was close to Sean, though not unsympathetic with Kevin, and he watched the knight’s reaction as William brought up the forbidden subject.
“I will, and can, do all that is required of me, my lord,” Kevin said easily.
Not that there had been any doubt, but William still wanted to hear it from Kevin. “Very well,” he said. “You will go with them to Norwich. Stay sharp. In fact, all of you stay sharp. If there is a threat under our noses, we must discover what it is.”
Those heading to Norwich nodded, but it was Alexander who spoke for the group. “Aye, my lord.”
“Leave us now,” William said, waving his hand at them. “I will be following shortly to Norwich, but do not wait for me. I will see you there. Sherry, this is your mission. You are in command.”
As Alexander nodded and headed out with the others, William turned his attention to Maxton and Kress.
“Now,” he said. “Pull up a chair and let us discuss what to do with Prescombe.”
With that, his attention was diverted and those heading to Norwich quit the chamber. Alexander, Peter, Kevin, Bric, and Christin headed down the mural stairs to the lower level of the great townhouse, which was a fortress unto itself. It was big and square, with the lower levels being the kitchens and a dormitory for visiting knights and soldiers, and the upper floors being where The Marshal and his family lived.
“I will take my sister to The Duck and Dribble over on Lombard Street,” Peter said. “I’ve already sent our baggage on ahead, so you can find us there in the morning.”
Alexander was right behind him. “Very well,” he said. “We’ll head down to The Pox on Ropery Street. That will give us a bit of entertainment before we have to head north into the wilds of Norfolk.”
Bric put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, yanking the man back as they headed for the fortified entry of the manse. “The Marshal does not like us to go to that place,” he said. “If he finds out, there will be hell to pay.”
Alexander cast Bric a long look. “He will not know we’ve been there if a certain Irishman keeps his yap shut,” he said. “I do not intend to engage in anything untoward. Mayhap a bit of gambling. I also have not eaten anything all day and they have the best food in town. If you want to go with Peter and the lady to the inn on Lombard, be my guest. But I am going to The Pox.”
They were out on the street now with a crisp autumn night overhead. The stars were brilliant, like a blanket of diamonds, and the streets were dark enough so that most people were already in for the night.
But Christin didn’t notice. She had been looking forward to a meal and a quiet evening, or perhaps something a little more thrilling considering she didn’t get to London often. Given that there was no excitement in Norwich, Alexander’s comment about The Pox had her attention.
“The Pox,” she said, picking up her skirts so they wouldn’t drag in the mud on the street. “It sounds like a lively place. I think I’ve heard Lord de Winter speak of it, but his wife becomes irritated when he does. It has a bad reputation, doesn’t it?”
Alexander grinned, his big teeth flashing in the dim light. “That depends on who you ask,” he said. “They have beautiful women, excellent food, and any game of chance a man could want for.”
Christin was watching the street, making sure she didn’t step in a smelly puddle. “What about women?”
“I said they had the most beautiful women.”
“That is not what I meant. Are there games of chance for women?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“Can a woman play with the men?”
“I have seen a few.”
“Then I want to play.”
Alexander’s smile vanished. “It is no place for you, Lady Christin.”
She looked at him as if his words meant nothing. “Even so, I would like to accompany you. It sounds like an exciting place.”
“The Pox?” Peter said, aghast. “You cannot go there. Papa would
eviscerate me if he knew I let you go into that place.”
“He will not know,” Christin said as she looked at her brother. “As long as a certain de Lohr sibling keeps his yap shut.”
Alexander’s words were reflected in her statement and, walking behind them, Bric and Kevin started to laugh. Peter turned, scowling at the pair.
“You think this funny, do you?” he demanded. “If she was your sister, would you find it so funny?”
“If she was my sister, I would throw her over my shoulder and cart her into The Duck and Dribble without delay,” Bric said. “But, then again, my sisters have not learned to kill on command or function in a man’s world. Lady Christin has.”
Peter sighed sharply, looking at his sister. “You may not go to The Pox,” he said. “It is not for you and if you go, I will tell Papa.”
“How are you going to tell him and explain why I was in London in the first place?” Christin asked smoothly. “He will want to know because I am supposed to be safe back at Norwich right now. What will you tell him?”
Peter was licked. He knew that before the conversation ever really got going because what Christin wanted, she got. That had started in childhood. She was a most determined, cunning, and smart young lady. With her father’s drive and her mother’s intelligence, it was a combination that had put her where she was now. Christin had everything she ever wanted, and if she wanted to go to The Pox, Peter knew that, short of binding her to the bed and locking the door for good measure, she would go.
Therefore, this entire conversation was a losing battle. He thought that if she took in her fill of The Pox and saw what a nasty, dirty, corrupt place it was, she would forget all about wanting to play games of chance there.
Perhaps the only thing to do was let her see it.
“Very well,” Peter said, frustrated. “If you want to go, then I will take you. But do not say I didn’t warn you. It is no place for a woman.”
Christin merely grinned at him before turning to Alexander. “Will you lead the way, my lord?”
Alexander looked at her like this was all a very bad idea. “Are you serious? We have explained to you that The Pox is not for a woman of your breeding.”
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 3