The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “It looks like one of the parties we used to participate in, long ago.” It was a deep, loud voice. “Usually, it would be David passed out under the table as Chris and I arm wrestled to see who could throw whom to the ground first.”

  Christopher and David turned around, both of them grinning when they saw an enormous knight on a big, black warhorse coming up behind them. The man was wearing a tunic of William Marshal, as he was the garrison commander of the mighty Richmond Castle and probably the fiercest knight in the north of England.

  “Cai,” Christopher said with satisfaction. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you?”

  Sir Caius d’Avignon flipped up his visor, giving the brothers a full view of his smiling face. He was an enormous man, usually at least a head taller than everyone else around him, with hair and eyes as black as coal. His face was angular and strong, the brilliant smile displaying charmingly crooked teeth.

  “It is me in the flesh, gentle knights,” he said. “I should be asking you that question. Why in the hell would you attend a celebration in honor of John? He’s not exactly your favorite person.”

  “For the same reason you would.”

  “The Marshal ordered you to?”

  Christopher laughed softly. “He did not order us, but rather strongly encouraged,” he said. “Besides, it is a chance for me to see my eldest children. They both serve at Norwich.”

  Caius nodded as he reined his horse next to Christopher. “I have seen Peter from time to time,” he said. “An astonishingly good knight.”

  A prideful smile crossed Christopher’s lips. “He comes from excellent stock and has had excellent training,” he said. “His brothers are doing equally well. Curtis and Richard serve at Bowes Castle with Juston de Royans and they are both nearly as big as I am at sixteen and fourteen years, respectively. Myles is at Canterbury with David, still, and the younger children are at home with my wife and me. Rebecca has seen seven years, Douglas five years, Westley three years, and Olivia Charlotte is the baby.”

  “The baby has two names?”

  “I liked one, Dustin liked the other, so she is called by two names.”

  Caius snorted. “How exhausting.”

  Christopher shrugged. “You get used to it,” he said. “In any case, Dustin insists on keeping our children to her bosom. It is like extracting teeth with her to send a child to foster.”

  Caius chuckled. “That is quite a brood, my virile stud,” he said. “Are you finished yet?”

  Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “My wife says I am a dead man if she conceives a child again, so I would say that we are finished.”

  Both Caius and David laughed heartily at that statement, mostly because Christopher seemed rather fearful of the wrath of his wife in such a case.

  “I cannot believe a man of your stature would be fearful of a woman,” Caius said. “You are the husband. If you want more children, that is your right.”

  Christopher gave a loud, ironic snort. “When you marry, you shall understand,” he said. “You’re completely ignorant, d’Avignon. Give advice only for the things you’re good for – slaying enemies and savages.”

  Caius grinned wolfishly. “The only thing I have been slaying as of late lies between a woman’s legs.”

  That set Christopher and David off into laughter again. Caius was, if nothing else, quite entertaining. They had served with him in The Levant, part of the close circle of Richard’s trusted men, and Caius had been jovial and witty at times. He was also one of the most brilliant, deadly tacticians around, so much so that the Muslims called him Britania Faybr, or The Britannia Viper.

  He was big, fast, and deadly.

  He was, therefore, a man that Christopher and David respected and liked. Christopher clapped the man on the arm.

  “Come along, lad,” he said. “Let us go and slay a few cups of wine and some of de Winter’s fine food.”

  “No women?”

  “Not for me, but be my guest if there are any eligible women in attendance.”

  Caius thought that sounded like a good idea. The three of them continued on through the village of half-drunk people, heading towards the enormous, square bastion in the distance. More people were arriving as well, groups of invited nobles, and they could see several houses that they knew, allies of de Winter and of William Marshal. There were several roads into Norwich, as it was the largest city in Norfolk, and parties were coming in from all over.

  Christopher recognized all of them, in fact. Summerlin, de Leybourne, and Ashbourne were just a few groups of men he recognized. As the groups bottlenecked into the city gates, he found himself in conversation with Padraig Summerlin, the garrison commander of Castle Rising. He was a good man, married to one of Old Daveigh’s daughters. It was quite a festive atmosphere as men arrived for days of drink and food in celebrations of the king’s birthday the coming month. And just as they passed beneath the city gate, they began to hear a commotion behind them.

  William Marshal was bringing up their rear with about a hundred solders and Maxton and Kress riding with him, armed to the teeth. Although Christopher and David had brought about the same number of men-at-arms with them, they were treating the ride a little more casually. David still had his helm off, enjoying the sun, and Christopher’s shield wasn’t even on his saddle. There was a small group from Thetford between them and The Marshal’s party, one Lord Croxton, and Maxton and Kress scared the hell out of Lady Croxton as they pushed their group.

  Christopher could hear Lady Croxton weeping loudly.

  It was mostly Maxton, harassing people in order to make way for William Marshal, but Christopher didn’t comment on the fact. That was typical Maxton; no tact, all business. He and Maxton had known each other for over twenty years and they had never particularly gotten along, mostly because they were so much alike in personality – forceful, commanding, demanding. But Maxton had a darker edge about him, something Christopher didn’t have, nor did he like, and there had been times in the past when he and Maxton had butted heads.

  But these days, they couldn’t work up the energy to do so. They had accepted one another for who, and what, they were, and although they would never be the best of friends, they managed to get along for the most part. As Maxton pushed through the Croxton group to reach the de Lohrs and Caius, he ended up shoving the lone Croxton knight out of the way by kicking the man’s horse in the flanks. As the animal bolted off, he turned his attention to the men he knew.

  “Here we are, together again,” he said, mostly focused on Caius. “Cai, God help you, you’re uglier than I remember.”

  Caius snorted. “Thankfully, the women do not think that.”

  Maxton rolled his eyes, for it was true. They all knew that women flocked to Caius like a moth to the flame. His attention fell on David next.

  “My lord,” he greeted. “I see that you are still in the company of that one.”

  He nodded his head in Christopher’s direction and David smiled thinly. “You mean the Earl of Hereford and Worcester?” he said. “Show some respect, Loxbeare.”

  Maxton turned to Christopher and the two of them gazed at each other, appraisingly. That was usual with them. “My lord,” Maxton said. “All the way from the Marches, I see.”

  “And you,” Christopher said evenly. “How is Gloucester?”

  “Quiet. Just the way I like it. And Lioncross?”

  “Quiet. Just the way I like it.” Christopher looked at David and Caius, and now Kress as he joined them. “You would never guess that Maxton and I are allies along the Marches. He really loves me, but he will never admit it.”

  There was an ironic jest in that, and some humor. It wasn’t true, but it wasn’t entirely untrue, either. The relationship between the pair was complicated. As David and Caius shook their heads to the unspoken rivalry between Christopher and Maxton, Kress reined his horse next to the group.

  “Greetings, my lords,” he said, far more polite to Christopher and David than Maxton had been. “’Ti
s a fine day for much drinking and eating.”

  “You will keep the drinking to a minimum,” William said as he rode up. “I do not need a bunch of drunken lords about with John on the prowl. Has he arrived yet?”

  Everyone turned in the direction of the castle, the great square box on the hill that loomed over the town. There were banners flying, both de Winter and Plantagenet, snapping in the light breeze.

  “I would guess he is here,” Christopher said. “His feast begins today, after all.”

  William simply lifted his eyebrows, seemingly not too thrilled about the whole thing. He was here only because he had to be. The enormous de Lohr/Marshal group pushed through the village, as they were now on one of the wide avenues that headed for the castle. As they neared the first of several gatehouses that led to the keep, they could see a rider heading in their direction. A man in armor was thundering towards them. Christopher was the first to take notice.

  “Look there,” he said. “That looks like Peter.”

  It was. Everyone turned to see Peter galloping towards them on the heavy-boned warhorse his father had given him when he was knighted. Another expensive de Lohr animal that Peter was quite fond of. As the knight drew up alongside his father and uncle, the customary smile wasn’t there.

  In fact, he looked very serious.

  “I thought it was you,” he said to his father. “I had the men watch for your banner and they thought they saw it coming in through the city gate.”

  “They did,” Christopher said to his eldest. “What has you riding out here like a madman?”

  “John is here,” Peter said, looking at the six knights before him. All powerful men, all of them knowing the stakes with John present at any gathering. “He arrived yesterday. Papa, we had an… incident last night with Christin.”

  Christopher stiffened. “What incident?” he demanded. “Be plain.”

  “She is well,” Peter said quickly, seeing this father was immediately on the offensive. “She is not harmed, but there have been some developments. I rode out here to tell you because I am not entirely sure we will have any privacy once we enter the castle. John’s men are everywhere. He brought a small army with him.”

  Christopher looked at William, who was trying not to show any great concern. “What developments have there been, Peter?” William asked calmly.

  Peter wedged his big horse between his father and William. Even though they were in public, they were fairly isolated from prying ears with soldiers surrounding them and the noise of the city in general.

  That was exactly what Peter had counted on.

  “Papa, you must promise to remain calm,” Peter said. “I am telling you this in the presence of Lord William on purpose. I will reiterate that Christin is well, but John invited her to sup with him last night. From what I was told, she tried to flee after the invitation was delivered but Sean de Lara caught her and told her not to run. He told her that John has confided in him that he wants Christin as a bride for his son, Robert FitzRoy.”

  Christopher, normally a neutral man, couldn’t temper his reaction. His eyes bugged. “FitzRoy?” he hissed. “He has lost his damnable mind if he thinks I’ll ever consent to a marriage between Christin and his bastard!”

  Peter held up a hand. “I know,” he said. “We all know. But Sean had a plan and we put it into action last night at the feast when Christin dined with John. Sean’s plan was for Christin to behave horribly – he told her to drink, to belch, to behave like a base-born chit because John cannot stand women like that. He prefers his women well-bred and lovely and obedient, and Christin was anything but. Papa, you should have seen her – I have never seen anything like it in my life.”

  They were all hanging on Peter’s every word. Christopher was close to exploding. “What happened?” he demanded.

  Peter started to grin. “She pretended to be drunk,” he said. “She chatted so much that John couldn’t get a word in, she chewed like a common man, belched like a knight on a three-day drinking binge, ended up vomiting at one point, and then she got into a fight with a serving wench. It was brilliant, Papa, all of it. We’ve not yet seen John this morning and he has stayed far away from Cissy. If she wanted to discourage him, I think she did.”

  Christopher was still vastly upset but listening to his son tell the tale had him envisioning his beautiful, well-mannered daughter as she acted the part of a fool. He almost wished he’d been there to see it.

  “Christ,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. “She really did that?”

  “She did,” Peter said. “Sean thought it was better to discourage the king than to run from him. The more she would run, the more obsessed he would be. But if she proved herself undesirable…”

  “Then John would put her out of his mind,” Christopher finished for him, seeing the logic. Forcing himself to calm, he sighed heavily. “Cissy always was a bit of performer. Thank God she had the wherewithal to listen to Sean. Let us hope it throws John off her scent for good.”

  “I would not be too sure,” William said quietly. When everyone turned to look at him, he simply lifted his shoulders. “John does not discourage so easily, especially if he believes the prize outweighs the negative aspects. To marry his son to a de Lohr… that would be a triumph for him and a defeat for you, Chris. I would not trust that your daughter’s bad behavior has destroyed his aspirations.”

  Christopher pondered that for a moment. “I suppose not,” he said. “I have been doing battle against John for over twenty years. I know what the man is capable of, better than most. But Christin won the first battle. Let us see if we can win the war because there is no possibility John will ever have Cissy for his son. None at all.”

  William nodded faintly. “He would use your daughter against you,” he said. “To ensure your neutrality in any movement against him, he would use her. Chris, you need to remove her from Norwich immediately. Take her back to Lioncross and keep her there. We cannot take the chance. Meanwhile, we are still dealing with a threat from within but it would seem that we have two fronts to this situation – John’s interest in Christin de Lohr and an unnamed threat against John.”

  It was a portentous observation because it was entirely true. As the reality of the situation began to settle, the men looked to one another, understanding the irony of the circumstances they found themselves in. While they were trying to protect a king, he was trying to subvert one of their own.

  The power struggle between John and William Marshal was real. Remove de Lohr and a good portion of The Marshal’s power would be neutralized.

  It was something that could not happen.

  “What would you have Kress and I do, my lord?” Maxton asked. “Since we were the ones who interrogated Lord Prescombe, I feel as if we should focus on the unnamed threat. Would you agree?”

  William nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Caius, you work with them. They will inform you of everything you need to know. Meanwhile, Christopher and David and Peter will work to remove Christin from Norwich.”

  “Sherry, Bric, and Kevin are at Norwich, too,” Peter reminded him. “They are ready to do your bidding.”

  William’s gaze trailed to the massive square keep before him. He found himself shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked at it. “Then find them,” he told Peter. “Gather them. I would meet with all of my men when I arrive so we may make the appropriate plans.”

  Peter nodded, spurring his horse forward and thundering back towards the castle. Christopher watched him go, unable to fight off the powerful sense of trepidation he was feeling. John had always had an attraction to the de Lohr women; first Dustin, now Dustin’s daughter.

  It made Christopher ill simply to think on it.

  Christin married to Robert FitzRoy…

  Over his dead body.

  “Cissy?” Wynter’s head peeked in her chamber door. “Someone is here to see you this morning.”

  Christin was sitting by the hearth, drying out the hair she’d just washed becaus
e it had food and vomit it in from the previous night. In fact, she’d just finished a bath where she’d scrubbed herself from head to toe, washing away the wine stains and the cow dung. Combing the ends of her dark, nearly-dry hair, she glanced up at Wynter.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “He says to tell you that Sherry has come to speak to you.”

  That had Christin on her feet. Suddenly, she was quite eager to see who had come calling for her but she wasn’t dressed for it. Quickly, she shirked her dressing robe, one made from heavy brocade, and dressed in a linen gown that was heavy in fabric, yet simple but lovely.

  Wynter rushed into the chamber to help her, taking the comb and plaiting her hair into a braid that draped gracefully over one shoulder as Christin tied up the front of her bodice. She looked quite lovely and angelic in the simple linen that emphasized her curvy figure. She was petite and big-chested like her mother, which gave her a pleasingly round silhouette. Pulling on her slippers, she dashed from the chamber and headed down the stairs.

  Alexander was standing in the doorway of the apartment building, smiling faintly at her as she came down the stairs far too quickly.

  “Careful, my lady,” he said, drinking in the sight of her. “It would not do to survive the king and then break your neck on the stairs.”

  Christin smiled at him, her face positively aglow. “I did survive the king,” she said quietly. “I hope my performance did not change your mind about me.”

  He grinned, full-on, and began to clap his hands slowly. The applause echoed off the stone. “Brilliant,” he said. “Positively one of the most brilliant things I have ever seen. If I was not already fond of you, last night’s entertainment alone would have had me begging for a lock of your hair.”

  She smiled bashfully. “You would not have to beg, I assure you.”

  Alexander was quite certain he’d not smiled so much in years. “Truly?” he said. “If I ask you for a lock now, will you give me one?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  He laughed softly. But all the while, his eyes were riveted to her as if he could look at nothing else. “Astonishing,” he murmured. “You, dear lady, are astonishing. Will you walk with me this morn?”