Another spoiled Plantagenet offspring.
When his father became king, Robert had been given land in Norfolk and a title, Lord Brimington. He even had a fine manor home in Bishop’s Lynn called Fairstead. The problem was that Robert was just as cruel, ruthless, and immoral as his father, or so Sean had heard. He didn’t know the man and didn’t want to, so for John to bring him up was curious. John usually didn’t give much thought to his first-born.
“I would have thought Robert to have married by now, your grace,” Sean said.
“Not yet. But I believe I have the perfect match.”
“Who?”
“Lady Christin de Lohr.”
Sean struggled not to react outwardly, realizing he should have seen that coming. John had brought up Christopher’s daughter and Robert in the same conversation, so it was only logical he’d meant to merge the two subjects.
But this merger was worse than anything Sean had imagined.
“I see,” he said, hoping his shock wasn’t evident. “And Monnington gave you this idea, your grace?”
John nodded. “He knows de Lohr’s family,” he said. “Monnington’s father was close to Christopher, so Evan knows the children. He mentioned Lady Christin and her younger sister, Lady Brielle. He says they are both beauties.”
Sean shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Given their mother’s comely looks, I would believe that, your grace,” he said. “But marrying Robert to de Lohr’s eldest daughter? Have you spoken to anyone else about this idea?”
“A few.”
“And what did they say, your grace?”
John shook his head. “It does not matter,” he said. “I want to know what you think.”
Sean eyed him. “The truth, your grace?”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Then I would not consider that plan if I were you, your grace,” Sean said. “Christopher de Lohr probably already has his daughter pledged. Or, at the very least, you will never gain his permission, so it would be futile.”
“Not if you whisk her from Norwich and take her to Bishop’s Lynn,” John said pointedly. “Robert can marry her before de Lohr can regain her and once consummated, not even the church will dissolve the marriage. With de Lohr’s daughter married to my son, we will be family.”
It was a horrific plan. Even Sean thought it was a horrific plan, and he’d heard many a horrific plan coming from John. But this one… it was absurd as well as outlandish. He struggled to remain neutral.
“May I further give my opinion, your grace?”
“Of course.”
Sean didn’t hold back. “Should you marry your son to de Lohr’s daughter without his permission, that will not create an alliance,” he said. “It will create civil war. De Lohr will march on you, and bring his allies with him, and he will wash over you like a wave upon the sand. You would destroy England with this plan, I fear.”
John eyed him. “Not if I threaten to harm his daughter should he act against me.”
“So you would use her as a hostage disguised as a bride, your grace?”
John had an intense look about him, as if everything in his entire future hinged on the vile scheme he was about to spew.
“If I bring de Lohr to his knees, then I remove not only him, but David de Lohr from any affront against me,” he said. “With the House of de Lohr subdued, do you realize what that means?”
“I realize what you think it means, your grace,” Sean said steadily. “But the reality could be very different. De Lohr is well-respected; even if he stands down because you threaten his daughter, his allies more than likely will not. That will put you in a precarious position.”
“Explain.”
“If you make a threat against Christin de Lohr and de Lohr’s allies move against you, then you will have to act on your threat,” he said. “If you do not, you will be viewed as weak. But if you do and you harm her, kill her even, then you remove the restraints on her father and he will destroy you. He may even ally with Philip. Imagine thousands of Frenchmen flooding England, allied with de Lohr and his supporters. You will not be able to stand against that.”
Sean painted a bleak picture that was very truthful. Nothing he said was fabricated or imagined; all of it was true. John was astute enough to know that. Still, he didn’t like to be denied his wants. That had historically been an issue with him. What John wanted, Sean would always, with rare exception, provide. The only way Sean would discuss an order with the king is if he believed it would hurt John beyond repair.
This was one of those times.
Unfortunately for Sean, John’s quest to restrain or otherwise control Christopher de Lohr was stronger than his fear of the consequences.
“De Lohr would not ally with Philip,” he finally said. “He would never support France on these shores, not even to destroy me. But I still want his daughter for my son because, as the son of the king, he commands the best bride in England. It will create an alliance that will benefit me. The man would not side against his kin and his daughter would be a duchess.”
Sean was genuinely trying not to argue with the man because it would only look suspicious, but he was greatly troubled by the king’s intentions. The last word in the man’s statement had him confused.
“I was not aware your son was a duke, your grace,” he said.
John shook his head. “He is not at the moment,” he said. “But when he marries Lady Christin, that will change. My wedding gift to them will be the Dukedom of Dersingham. Surely de Lohr cannot object to his daughter becoming a duchess.”
There was so much wrong with that statement that Sean truly didn’t know where to begin. All he knew was that they were headed for some terrible trouble and Christopher knew nothing about it.
Not yet, anyway.
Sean wasn’t certain if he was going to be at Norwich but he knew William Marshal was, and he further knew that William would not be happy to hear this in the least. Years ago, John had set his sights on Christopher’s wife, Dustin, and it seemed that eighteen years later, the man was going after the woman’s daughter. They were traveling down a road that would only take them to ruin because as fiercely as de Lohr had fought for his wife, he would fight even harder for his daughter.
Desperately, Sean tried to salvage the situation.
“Then mayhap you should propose the marriage to de Lohr, your grace,” he said. “Mayhap if you ask him to enter into negotiations for his daughter, or send a liaison to negotiate, it might be a much more civilized way to go about it rather than abducting a bride for your son. That will set the situation on end from the very beginning and given your history with the House of de Lohr, mayhap that is not the best way to go about it. De Lohr will kill you and more than likely kill me to get to you, so you will put us both in an impossible situation.”
John did nothing more than lay back on his bed again, arm over his forehead. “Possibly,” he said. “Faithful Sean; always trying to save me from myself. It must be a difficult task.”
Sean smiled weakly. “I serve at the pleasure, your grace. It is an honor.”
John snorted as if he did not believe him. “You are a gracious liar,” he said. “We will speak on this subject again when we arrive at Norwich and I get a look at Lady Christin. But for now, let us speak this evening.”
“What is your wish, your grace?”
John was looking at him again. “Lord Edward Needham lives not far from here, I believe,” he said. “His seat is Elsdon House. Do you remember him?”
“I do, your grace. An older man with bags under his eyes. He has a look of illness about him.”
“That may be true, but he has a new wife,” John said. “He brought her to the masque at Westminster this past summer. Do you recall?”
“I believe so, your grace.”
John wagged a finger. “He tried to be clever and keep her out of my sight, but I saw her,” he said. “She is quite a beauty. Rumor has it that he’s in love with the girl, although he is old
enough to be her father.”
“A woman with red hair? I do recall, your grace.”
John lay back again, closing his eyes as the carriage rocked and bumped. “Go to Elsdon and bring her to me,” he said. “If Needham stands in your way, do what you must to subdue the man. It will be a cold, wet night and I wish for a warm, soft body to fill my bed.”
It wasn’t an unusual command. Sean had carried out dozens of them over the years. He’d learned not to become outraged or upset by them, as barbaric as they were. He had to push his personal feelings aside.
“Aye, your grace.”
“Needham has a daughter, too. She’s young, but I hear she’s pretty enough. Bring her, too.”
“Anything else, your grace?”
“That will be enough.”
Sean quit the carriage without another word, mostly because he now had orders to head to Elsdon House and steal a man’s wife and daughter away for the king’s pleasure. It was part of the hell he’d condemned himself to when he’d accepted this mission from William Marshal those years ago, a mission that saw him embed close to the king to watch the man’s every move and report back to William Marshal. But it was with directives like these that made him question his loyalty to the Marshal, to England in general. He knew there would be a special place in hell for him and all of the things he’d done in the name of the king.
It was something he tried not to think about.
Lady Barbara Needham was young, pretty, and very much in love with her older husband, who begged Sean not to take her away when he showed up with about thirty of the king’s soldiers. The man wept and pleaded as Sean yanked his wife right out of their marital bed and handed her over to another of John’s bodyguards, a bear of a man named Gerard d’Athee. When Lord Needham lunged for Sean, trying to physically reclaim his weeping wife, Sean slugged Lord Needham so hard in the head that it knocked the man unconscious in an instant.
It was a good thing that Needham had been rendered immobile, deaf, blind and dumb to what was going on around him, because once d’Athee took Lady Needham down to his waiting horse, Sean went to find the man’s daughter, locating a thirteen-year-old girl who was cowering in her bedchamber at all of the screaming. Looking at that tiny, weeping girl, Sean knew she would not survive a night with the well-endowed and lusty king.
He simply couldn’t do it.
Telling her to be silent and locking the door behind him, he shut the panel and headed down to the servants’ quarters where he located a rather bold serving wench, who claimed she had seen eighteen years, and dragged her out into the night. Under penalty of death – her death – Sean told her that, for the night, she was to pretend that she was Needham’s daughter. When he caught up to the hysterical Lady Needham, he managed to get her alone for a few moments to tell her the same thing – unless she wanted to see her stepdaughter violated, she would confirm that the serving maid was Needham’s young daughter.
Poor Lady Needham was facing horrors beyond belief, but she understood.
She agreed.
Sean felt very sorry for her.
Before dawn the next day, Sean personally returned Lady Needham and the maid to Elsdon House. Fortunately for Lady Needham, the king seemed to be more interested in the maid, who had turned out to be virgin, so Lady Needham had been forced to mostly watch what had happened rather than actively participate. The maid hadn’t been particularly bothered by the event, thinking it a badge of honor to have been bedded by the king, but Lady Needham had been devastated by the entire event. When Sean brought the women home before sunrise, Lady Needham had actually thanked him for sparing her stepdaughter.
But that didn’t make Sean feel any less dirty or dishonorable.
On the ride back to the village, all he could think of was Christin de Lohr and what was going to happen once John reached Norwich. God help him, he was going to have to make sure Christin stayed out of sight. He had never come close to blowing his cover in the entire time he’d served John, but if Christin de Lohr’s life and future was on the line, Sean knew he’d have to make some hard decisions.
Ruin eight years of hard work or put his friend and ally’s daughter in grave danger.
Would he choose the greater good of England or the greater good of one family?
And that was the dilemma facing Sean de Lara as the king’s escort rolled towards Norwich.
CHAPTER SIX
“The king is approaching.” Peter caught up to Alexander as the man stood at one of the food tables. “Where is my sister?”
Alexander had a cup of boiled apple juice in one hand and a few slices of bread in the other. All around them, the wedding feast was going on but Peter’s words had him on alert. He immediately turned to the road that crossed through the town, the same road they had come in on. Other than people dancing on it, or otherwise going about their business, nothing seemed amiss.
“Are you certain?” he asked, straining to catch a glimpse. “Who told you that?”
“There are people arriving in town from the countryside for this feast and they said that John is approaching,” Peter replied. “I heard some of them talking.”
Alexander didn’t want the king or his retinue to see him or the others. In fact, it was best that they weren’t seen at all until the time was right. He set the food in his hands down.
“Go find Kevin and Bric,” he said. “Get your horses and get to Norwich. I will find Christin.”
But Peter shook his head. “I will find my sister,” he said. “It is more important that you get to Norwich ahead of the king and let Old Daveigh know of the man’s impending arrival.”
Alexander wanted to argue with him; he really did. He wanted to be the one to retrieve Christin, but he was afraid that if he argued the point with Peter, that the man might think it strange. Suspicious, even. Alexander wasn’t even sure what he was feeling for Christin, but he didn’t want to tip her brother off before he was ready to face it himself. All he knew was that he wanted to be near her.
He couldn’t seem to let it go.
“You heard me,” he said, pointing to the crowd of revelers. “Get going. I’ll find your sister and bring her along.”
“But –!”
Alexander had already turned away at that point. He wasn’t going to argue with Peter, who simply took off running in the opposite direction when Alexander shut him down. The man had his orders and was moving to carry them out.
Alexander had the stone bench in his sight and instantly saw that it was vacant. Suspecting that Christin wouldn’t have gone far in her state, he jogged over to the bench, all the while looking around to see if he could locate her. The festivities were still going on around them as rumors of the king’s approach spread, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Puzzled but not panicked, his gaze moved to the small church.
The doors were open.
That gave him an idea.
Alexander made his way over to the church with the small and crowded churchyard built against it. It was a beautiful church, in truth, with a tall steeple that looked like it had once been a castle tower, built from dark granite. He passed into the cool, quiet sanctuary, looking into the dark recesses for Christin, and noticing that there were backless stone benches against the walls, tucked into the darkness. He hadn’t taken ten steps when he immediately spied Christin laying on one of the stone benches.
Quietly, he made his way over to her.
She was dead asleep, her mouth open as she snored softly. Alexander stood there a moment, smiling faintly, thinking that he wasn’t going to wake her. Since he’d become acquainted with her, she’d had quite a time of it – the French spy, the near-dressing down by William Marshal because of it, the fight at The Pox, and then riding to Norwich in horrible weather and hardly sleeping for it. No wonder that strong ale had hit her so hard.
She deserved a bit of a rest.
Therefore, he let her sleep. Quietly, he sat down by her head, leaning back against the stone wall of the church and feeling his
own fatigue. He was weary also. To the soft sounds of her steady breathing, he closed his eyes.
Sleep came almost instantly.
The next Alexander realized, someone was speaking. His eyes rolled open and he could see that it was quite dark in the church now. It didn’t occur to him that he, too, had fallen asleep until he lifted his head only to see that Christin’s head was now in his lap, using his thigh as a pillow, and his left arm was draped over her body protectively. He froze, confused and groggy, as he watched her sleeping peacefully, curled up against him.
“My lord?”
There was that voice again. Alexander looked up to see a tall, thin man in priestly robes bent over, peering at him curiously.
“My lord?” the man said again. “You cannot sleep here. Vespers has begun. If it is a hostel you seek, there is one on the edge of town.”
Alexander rubbed his eyes, yawning. “Vespers,” he muttered, thinking on how long he could have possibly been asleep. They came into the village around midday, so they’d been asleep at least five hours, possibly more. Looking down at Christin, still sleeping soundly, he shook her gently. “My lady? Christin?”
She barely stirred and he could see that she had drooled all over his breeches. The sight actually made him grin. He shook her again.
“Christin, wake up,” he said quietly. “We must move on to Norwich.”
Christin took a long, deep breath and opened her eyes. Alexander could see the long lashes fluttering. She stared out into the sanctuary for a few moments before putting a hand up, feeling where her head was resting. He could see that she was trying to figure it all out and it was rather amusing. Then, she wiped her mouth, lifted her head, and looked at the big wet patch on the leather breeches.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned to see who she had been passed out on. When their eyes met and she saw who it was, she closed her eyes briefly as if to ward off the sight.
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 8