John’s focus was on Christopher. “Is it so bad to be related to the crown, de Lohr?” he asked. “You served my brother flawlessly. You have always been faithful to England. Why not consider this a reward?”
Christopher’s jaw was ticking dangerously. “It is a curse,” he growled. “It is a burden and a shame. I do not want to be related to you or anything about you, so send a man to head off de Lara or this will not go well for you.”
“This will not go well for you,” John snarled, all of the casual nature abruptly out of his manner. “Do you think to threaten me, de Lohr? I could have you arrested for that.”
Christopher snorted. “I would like to see you try,” he said. “You and I have been doing battle for more than twenty years and I would think, by now, you would realize there is nothing you can do to me. I, however, can do a good deal to you.”
John was on his feet. “You will not do anything as long as my son is married to your precious daughter.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
John laughed, but there was no humor to it. “Let us be plain,” he said. “If you wish to see your daughter in continued good health, then you will behave yourself. Behave poorly and Christin shall pay the price. Is that clear enough?”
Surprisingly, Christopher didn’t explode with rage. He stood there, eyeing John, calculating his options. He’d been in a position like this with the man more than once and he knew what would work on him. He knew what kind of threat would make a difference.
And he didn’t doubt for one moment that John meant what he said.
Christin would pay the price if he stepped out of line.
But he wasn’t finished with this, not at all.
“It is as clear as rain,” Christopher said. “But allow me to be clear, also – although you and I have never been close allies, I have never rebelled against you. When you needed military might, the de Lohr army always answered the call. Is this not true?”
John nodded slowly. “It is.”
“At any given time, I can raise ten thousand men between Lioncross Abbey, Canterbury Castle, and my various garrisons,” Christopher said. “I can raise twice that by summoning my allies. Twenty thousand men are at my disposal.”
John lifted an eyebrow. “What is your meaning?”
Christopher’s jaw ticked as he spoke, indicative of the rage in his chest. It was enough to cause beads of sweat to pop out on his brow.
“I mean, quite plainly, that this action will change how I serve the crown,” he said. “It means that the crown is now my enemy. You are my enemy. It means that I shall ally myself with Philip of France and allow his troops into Lioncross and every other property I possess. It means that when I have gathered tens of thousands of men, I shall march on you and I shall destroy you. I would rather see Philip sitting on the throne of England than you. I would rather see England become part of France than have to swear fealty to a piece of human wreckage. When you took my daughter, you destroyed the last thread of loyalty I had to you. I will gladly see you and your family destroyed and I will not shed a tear. Is this in any way unclear?”
When he was finished, it was John who was sweating. Twitching, sweating anger because of all of the warlords in England, Christopher de Lohr was the one who could truly carry out the threat and he knew it.
“Do it and your daughter dies.”
Christopher smiled thinly. “If she dies, so do you and everyone you care for. I will wipe through the House of Plantagenet like the plague.”
He hissed the last words, emphasizing the fact that he meant what he said. Through it all, William watched the entire exchange, watching each threat become more severe than the last, like watching a chess match where the end game was only death.
Nothing else.
William was a diplomat but above all else, he was a fighting man. Some called him the greatest knight England had ever seen. Therefore, he understood the gravity of this situation better than most.
He took a deep breath.
“John,” he said quietly, and quite informally, “send a messenger to de Lara. Have him bring Christin back to Norwich, unharmed. If you do this, Christopher will forget about this… incident. He will forget his threats, which he is perfectly capable of carrying out, as you are well aware.”
John was glaring at Christopher, incapable of tearing his eyes away. When one is faced with an enemy, it does not do well to take one’s eyes from him.
John knew that.
“Nay,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will not. She marries my son.”
“Then I will kill your son,” Christopher said. “There are not enough guards in the civilized world to protect him. If I want him dead, he shall be dead. And then I shall go to work on you.”
William held up a hand. “Gentlemen, please,” he said, trying desperately to steer the conversation back to something productive. “Let us sit and discuss this calmly. But John, I would strongly suggest you send a messenger to de Lara now. The situation will not improve until you do. Do you not understand that?”
But John wouldn’t do it. “I told you I would not.”
“Then you are exchanging de Lohr’s fealty for his daughter’s marriage to your son,” William said. “Instead of creating an alliance, you are destroying one. Is the price worth it?”
John’s twitching was growing worse. He’d been known to fall into fits if enraged enough. He started to back away, keeping his eyes on Christopher, as Gerard suddenly stepped from the shadows.
Big, ugly, nasty Gerard was John’s attack dog. It was true that Christin had wounded him, but he’d had a physic dress the wound and little else. It had stopped bleeding, anyway, and that meant he resumed his duties even if he was feeling weak. He had a particular message for de Lohr, anyway, and would not be stopped.
“Your daughter stabbed me,” he said to Christopher. “She rammed a dagger into my gut. Did you raise such a ruthless bitch?”
Christopher looked Gerard over. “You do not look any worse for the wear,” he said. “And if you call my daughter a bitch again, you shall pay the price.”
Gerard didn’t have the sense that most men had. He only knew violence and all of the things that went along with it. That was his world, his life, his vocation. In his mind, there was nothing else.
“Who is going to make me?” he said. “You? I am not afraid you, de Lohr. Everyone else is, but I am not. You cannot harm me.”
Christopher’s gaze lingered on the man for a moment before returning his attention to the king. “I will not speak with filth,” he said. “Call back your dog before he makes the situation worse.”
John was indecisive, which was usual when Sean wasn’t around. Sean would whisper in his ear, telling him what to do or what to think, and that was what he would do. Or other courtiers would do the same, as John was not without an abundance of people around him to make suggestions or give advice. But there was no Sean in the room at the moment, or other courtiers, so his hesitation emboldened Gerard.
“Out, de Lohr,” the man snarled, unsheathing his weapon. “Get out or I will make you regret your refusal.”
Christopher’s sword came out, but David was faster. Even in his youth, there was no one faster with a sword, and David charged Gerard with lightning speed. Gerard barely had time to lift his sword before David was on top of him, shoving him back with a staggering blow and causing him to lose his balance. The armed guards in the room began to move to help Gerard, but Peter and Christopher turned on them, holding them off as William drew his sword to protect the king.
Startled and afraid, John began screaming as William put himself in front of the king, backing the man up, away from the fighting.
“Cease!” John cried. “Gerard, do you hear me? Cease! David, stop your attack!”
But David wasn’t listening. He’d had enough of his brother being insulted by the king and then by Gerard, who was unworthy to even be in the same room as his brother as far as he was concerned. Gerard gave David a
good fight for a minute or so before the wound to his side began bleeding again, and paining him greatly, and he found himself on one knee as David beat him down, finally knocking the sword from his hand. As David grabbed his hair and went in for the kill, William barked.
“David!” he boomed. “You will not kill him, do you hear? Leave him be and back away.”
David was poised to ram his sword right down Gerard’s throat. It would have been so easy to do it. But he listened to William, knowing any refusal would not be well met, so he let Gerard go and backed away. As he moved off, he kicked Gerard’s sword all the way across the chamber, far away so Gerard couldn’t rise up and attack him again. He returned to Christopher and Peter, who had eight of the king’s guard cornered. As the de Lohr men decided what to do with a collection of soldiers, William turned to John.
“For God’s sake, John,” he hissed. “If you do not want to see England destroyed, then send word to Sean and have him return Christin to Norwich. You have no choice.”
John was torn between fear and defiance. “You are only now back in my good graces, William, or have you forgotten?”
William shook his head. Considering that John spoke the truth, and William had spent the past couple of years abroad because of his contentious relationship with John, he was well aware that his presence in England now was fragile. He was home and he wanted to remain.
“I have not.”
“Then you do not give the commands, William.”
“In this case, I do. Do as I say or I will let de Lohr destroy you.”
John was beginning to twitch again from anger. “Do your duty and control him,” he said. “If you do not and he rises against me, the loss of England will be your fault.”
William lifted his eyebrows. “Unfortunately, you probably believe that,” he said. “But the truth is that your cruelty and pettiness is what will destroy it. I have recently come from Ramsbury Castle where a French spy foretold of a threat against you. She called it a threat from within. I am starting to think that you are the only true threat to England, John. Mayhap it is you who will finally destroy this country.”
John pulled away from him, glancing at Gerard, who was just starting to get to his feet. The man was pale, his lower abdomen bloody. John looked around the chamber, at what was happening, and took a defiant stance.
“Get out and take the de Lohrs with you,” he said to William. “I am going back to London. I will not stay where I feel as if my life is threatened.”
William watched him as he backed away, heading for a doorway that led to the bedchamber.
“Your life is threatened by your own doing,” William said. “Save England, John. Recall de Lara. The fate of your country is in your hands.”
John didn’t reply. He retreated into the bedchamber with Gerard stumbling after him, and that was the end of it. With a heavy sigh, William turned to Christopher and David and Peter, who still had the royal guards cornered. Sword still in his hand, William came up behind them.
“Chris,” he said quietly. “Get out. Take your son and your brother with you. And get your men out of the keep. Old Daveigh does not deserve the turmoil we have brought him, so be quick about it. We are departing this place.”
Christopher didn’t even look at him, nor did he sheathe his sword. But he left, which was about all William could hope for at the moment as he watched David and, finally, Peter follow him. William remained, however, covering their retreat before quitting the chamber after them.
God help him, he had such a mess on his hands that he didn’t even know where to start. William knew he had to get Christopher and Peter and David out of Norwich and he had to make apologies to Old Daveigh. But he found himself praying that his agents following Sean and Christin would catch up and wrangle Christin away from Sean. And given there was some emotion involved now with Alexander and Christin, he seriously wondered if Sean was going to survive.
So many unknowns.
The danger, for England, is already here. It is right under your nose.
That’s what the spy had told Christin. William hadn’t been wrong when he told the king that he was his own worst enemy.
The danger, for England, was John.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Cock and Bull Inn
Dereham
Christin had been conscious since nearly the moment they’d left the town of Norfolk.
She’d started to fight as she became aware, thinking it was Gerard who held her, but Sean had whispered in her ear and she’d calmed down immediately. He’d begged her to be still and cooperate and he promised to get her out of this alive, but that was all he would say. Christin knew exactly what was going on and she could see that she was surrounded by at least twenty or more of the king’s soldiers, so fighting and trying to flee would not have been in her best interest.
Therefore, she would have to trust Sean.
The party had ridden very hard and fast until sunset when the horses needed to be rested, so they’d stopped at the village of Dereham where Sean had paid for a room at The Cock and Bull, a large and crowded establishment in the center of town. Sean had pulled her off of his horse, heaving her over his shoulder as he headed inside and took her straight to a chamber at the top of the stairs.
All of the manhandling was all for show because the king’s men were spreading out in the common room below and Sean didn’t want them to think he was showing Christin any mercy. The fearsome Lord of the Shadows wasn’t capable of mercy or kindness, and Sean had to project that image. For all the king’s men knew, the woman meant for Robert FitzRoy was being closely, if not cruelly, guarded by de Lara.
That’s exactly what Sean wanted them to think. As soon as they entered the chamber and he shut the door, Christin turned to him with big eyes.
“What now?” she hissed. “Sean, what is going on?”
Sean held up a hand to silence her. “We need to make a show for the guard,” he said quietly. “Remember the night of the feast and the rather awesome act you put on?”
She sighed sharply. “Clearly, it did not work if I am still being taken to FitzRoy.”
Sean nodded. “It worked,” he said. “But John decided your breeding and name was worth your horrific manners. Now, I want you to scream and cry when I tell you to. Understand?”
She nodded, lifting her shoulders in a gesture suggesting she really didn’t know what he meant, but she soon would. Suddenly, he tossed a chair into the door, rattling it, and smacked his hands together several times, loudly. It sounded like slaps against flesh.
“Scream,” he murmured.
Christin did. Loudly. She cried and screamed, pleading for mercy as Sean grinned at her antics. She picked up the chamber pot, empty, and tossed it to the floor for good measure, crying loudly.
It was the performance of a lifetime.
All the while, Sean stood back by the door and laughed silently until he finally held up his hand for her to cease. She did in an instant and they both stood there a moment, listening to see if any of John’s soldiers had come up to the chamber to listen to the ruckus. With no sounds on the landing outside of the door, Sean moved to the other side of the chamber, pulling Christin with him.
“If I know Sherry, and I believe I do, he is not far behind us,” he whispered. “Cai saw everything that happened and undoubtedly told him, so I will find Sherry and anyone else who happened to come with him.”
Christin frowned. “If you are going to find him, why can you not take me to him? We can slip out without being seen, can’t we?”
Sean shook his head. “Above all else, my position with the king must remain solid,” he said. “There must be no hint in the minds of anyone that I am anything other than the king’s most loyal subject, so I cannot take you to Sherry and I cannot allow you to escape. In fact, we are going to go to Bishop’s Lynn for a reason.”
“What could that possibly be?”
“Because you are going to meet Robert Fitzroy.”
She stiffen
ed. “I will not meet him and I will not marry him. Have you lost your mind?”
Sean shook his head. “I have been thinking about the situation in detail and of the only possible solution to it.”
Christin threw up her hands. “The solution is to return me to Norwich,” she said, trying to keep her voice a whisper so no one would overhear. “I must return!”
“So the king can abduct you again?” he said. “So you can return to Lioncross and spend the next several years fearful of being abducted by the king, or of your sister possibly being abducted? Think, Christin. Running does not solve the problem.”
She was trying not to become upset or panicked. “We did try to solve the problem,” she murmured. “I made a fool of myself at the feast last night because you said I should and it did not work. It did not deter him.”
Sean was quiet for a moment. “How long have you been an agent for The Marshal?”
“For nearly two years.”
“And in that time, you have accomplished some fairly unsavory tasks.”
“Aye,” she said honestly. “It was my duty.”
“I know,” he said. “Scream again, by the way.”
“What?”
“Scream again so they still think I’m brutalizing you.”
Christin did, howling and begging for mercy, enough to make Sean chuckle again, until she quieted down. He nodded in approval.
“Now,” he said. “On to my point. Have you ever been tasked with killing a man?”
She nodded, somewhat solemnly. “I was, once.”
“Did you accomplish it?”
“Aye. Why do you ask?”
Sean’s dark blue eyes glimmered. “Because the problem in this entire situation is Robert FitzRoy,” he said. “Think about it – he’s the crux of this issue. If you eliminate him, John will no longer need a wife for his son.”
Her eyes widened. “Eliminate him?” she said. “You mean kill him?”
He nodded slowly, seeing that she understood what he was getting at. “Treat him like any other mission,” he said. “Get close to the man and make sure he does not live to see the morning. Break his neck, suffocate him with a pillow, or push him down the stairs. If you do not, you will never be free of him or his father.”
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