Christin didn’t. She was grateful that her father wasn’t hysterical about the situation, instead, moving his army to intercept John’s soldiers. She stood there as the knights prepared their horses – Caius, Sean, Kevin, Bric, Maxton, Kress, and Alexander. It was quite a collection of seasoned knights and although she was still somewhat apprehensive about the situation, she knew these men would do everything in their power to keep her safe.
As she watched them, it occurred to her just how fortunate she was. These were men who had been serving England longer than she’d been alive in some cases, and their skills were uncontested. They had accepted her into their network because of her name, but she’d proven beyond the de Lohr name that she was talented enough to be one of them.
And then, there was Alexander.
He was the greatest one of all as far as she was concerned. What she felt for him went beyond adoration. She’d known the man for less than a month and, already, she couldn’t live without him.
Perhaps she wasn’t meant to.
Perhaps their relationship was simply meant to be.
Christin was staring at him, daydreaming, as he finished with his horse. Glancing up, he saw that she was looking at him and he winked at her. Her heart fluttered as if it had wings. But they were prevented from conversation when the distant sounds of swords could be heard.
Sean dashed to the livery entry, peering down the road in the darkness.
“The battle has begun,” he said. “Quickly, mount your horses. We ride.”
The knights did, all of them swinging up into their saddles. Christin realized her horse wasn’t anywhere to be found and thought, with horror, that she had been expected to prepare it. Just as she began to recall that she had ridden the day before with Sean, he grabbed her by the arm.
“Come with me,” Sean said.
She did. He took her satchel, tying it off on his saddle, before lifting her up onto the horse. Alexander directed his horse next to Sean as the man mounted up, pulling Christin’s hands in front of him. When Sean saw Alexander’s questioning expression, he simply shook his head.
“She must ride with me, Sherry,” he said quietly. “That is what everyone expects. She is still my prisoner as far as anyone knows. It makes sense that FitzRoy, when we arrive, should see her with me.”
Alexander understood. He smiled at Christin, who smiled in return. He was near her and that was all she cared about. As the horses thundered out of the livery and traveled northwest beneath skies that were beginning to lighten, she fought off the apprehension of what the day would bring. She hadn’t allowed herself to entertain her fears, but as the group thundered down the road, she found that she couldn’t think of anything else.
She had a man to kill.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Fairstead looked like something out of a ghost story.
The manor home of Robert FitzRoy was large, rambling, and run-down. Stones had fallen from the eaves and vines grew up all around it. It had a sturdy wall, however, and a massive iron gate for protection.
There were dogs everywhere.
Big dogs, little dogs. Dogs that came too close to the horses and got kicked for their efforts, sending them away yelping. The ride to Bishop’s Lynn had taken all day, from dawn to dusk, and they were all exhausted from the hard ride, including the horses. The animals were sweating and foaming, and it was big and frightening Caius who dismounted his horse and demanded Robert FitzRoy from the two guards who manned the old, iron gate.
One of them went running inside the manse to summon FitzRoy, who emerged from the front door a little bit later with a jug in his hand. At least, they thought it was FitzRoy. The soldier who had summoned him pointed to the gates, indicating the men outside, and the man with the jug stumbled from the entry door, tripped down the stone steps into the small bailey, and weaved his way towards the gate.
Only a few torches were lit against the darkness, making it difficult to see. But once the man with the jug came close to the gates, his eyes widened and he pointed at the group.
“Royal standards, you fools!” he barked. “Open the gate! They are wearing royal standards!”
The gate was quickly opened, permitting the group entrance. Sean was in the lead, peering down at the man with the jug. He was tall and slender, with a mop of dark, dirty hair. He appeared unshaven and pale and had no resemblance to the king other than the physical trait his father had – one droopy eye.
That told Sean who the man was, but he asked anyway.
“Are you Robert FitzRoy?” he asked.
The man nodded unsteadily. “I am,” he said. Then, he clutched the jug against his chest fearfully. “Did my father send you here? What does he want? Why have you come?”
He sounded like a nervous idiot, clearly drunk. Sean eyed the man before dismounting his steed to speak with him face to face.
“My name is Sean de Lara,” he said. “I serve your father in the capacity of personal guard. The men with me are also royal guards. We have come with a message from your father.”
FitzRoy looked at the collection of very big knights, all of them, and one small lady sitting on de Lara’s horse. His fear turned to confusion and he continued to clutch the jug of wine to his breast as his attention returned to de Lara.
“A message?” he repeated. “What message?”
Sean indicated the lady sitting atop the horse. “It is your father’s wish that you marry this lady,” he said. “Her name is Christin de Lohr and her father is a powerful warlord. Your father wishes to be related to de Lohr by marriage, so you must do your duty.”
FitzRoy looked at Christin a moment before returning his focus to Sean. “I cannot marry her,” he said as if it were a ludicrous suggestion. “I already have a wife!”
That brought a reaction from the group of men, who glanced at each other in shock. This was an element they’d not anticipated.
FitzRoy is already married!
“Your father did not know you were married,” Sean said after a moment. “He was under the impression that you’d not taken a wife.”
FitzRoy hugged his jug with one arm, scratching his head with the other. “That is because he does not care for me,” he said. “He has ignored me most of my life. And now he sends me a bride? He did not even bother to ask me if I had already taken one. I have, you know, but she’s a worthless whore. She’s inside right now, drinking all of my wine.”
No one seemed to know quite what to do, but Alexander did. He wanted to take Christin and get the hell out of there. If FitzRoy was already married, there was no reason to remain. Sean must have had the same idea because he didn’t reply to FitzRoy. He simply turned back to his horse and was preparing to mount when FitzRoy stopped him.
“Wait,” he said, edging closer to Sean’s horse and looking up at Christin. “I want to see what my father sent me. Get down from there.”
Christin, who had so far remained silent and stoic, glanced at Sean, who nodded imperceptibly. Without a word, she climbed down and presented herself to FitzRoy, who was seriously looking her over. His gaze raked her from top to bottom, and everything in between.
It was enough to make Christin’s skin crawl.
“So, he wanted me to marry you, did he?” he said, his voice sounding very much like John’s – lascivious and chilling. “You’re quite pretty. Your name is Christin?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“How old are you?”
“I have seen eighteen summers, my lord.”
Suddenly, FitzRoy didn’t seem so drunk. He took another step towards her, looking Christin in the eye.
“My God, you are beautiful,” he said seductively. “If my father sent you to me, then I would not be rude enough to refuse. I do believe that I will keep you.”
Christin’s eyes narrowed. “I will not be your whore, my lord.”
FitzRoy lifted an eyebrow. “Resistance,” he said. “I like that. I like it when my women fight back. De Lara, return to my father and thank him for
this exquisite… gift. I will keep her.”
Sean eyed the man. “You are meant to marry her, not keep her as a concubine,” he said. “Your father wants the bond that only marriage can bring. If you cannot marry her, then I shall return her to your father. He will find someone else for her to marry.”
FitzRoy’s response was to reach out and grab Christin by her braid, yanking her with him as he took several steps back, away from the knights.
“My father has never done anything for me,” he said. “He has sent me this beautiful gift and I intend to keep her. Call it compensation for all of those years my father preferred to pretend I did not exist. Get out of here, all of you. The woman stays with me.”
The situation suddenly turned edgy as an unanticipated element took hold. He wasn’t really hurting her, but it was uncomfortable. Christin let herself be dragged along because she really couldn’t fight him the way he held her. But the advice from Alexander and Sean kept rolling through her head, advice on what she was to do when she found herself in this position.
She knew what she had to do.
Alexander had told her to view the man as her prey, not as her captor. Sean had told her to move swiftly with her actions and not wait. She was going to do both, for the moment he let go of her braid and went to grab her hand, she unleashed on him.
A balled fist went flying at him, catching him in the nose and sending his wine jug flying. As he screamed and put his hands on his face, blood streaming from between his fingers, Christin hit him in the face again, so hard that he fell onto the stone steps of his manse, striking his head.
The blow was enough to daze him, but he was still conscious and Christin was in panic mode. She was terrified of what would happen if she didn’t kill the man immediately, terrified that he would get up and try to hurt her. Terrified he would drag her into the house and the battle would continue inside, behind locked doors where no one could help her.
Where Alexander couldn’t get to her.
FitzRoy lay on the steps, his head on the first stone step while his body was sprawled out in the dirt. Leaping on his chest, Christin put all of her strength into his neck, using her knee and ramming it into his throat as hard as she could. He tried to scream, but she had crushed his windpipe. When she went in for another blow, however, he lashed out with his long legs, kicking her over so that she toppled into the corner of the stone manse. Striking her left side hard, she fell to her knees.
But FitzRoy was strong. With his windpipe crushed, he was slowly suffocating, but he could still move. He could still kill. He spied Christin crumpled a few feet away and he rolled to his side, reaching towards her with claw-like hands. He was going to grab her and ram her face right into the ground.
But he never had the chance.
Alexander charged.
No one tried to stop him, not even Sean. Alexander moved with the speed of a cat, rushing FitzRoy, who was struggling to rise. Swinging his broadsword in a skilled, tight fashion, Alexander brought the blade to bear right on FitzRoy’s neck. In one clean slice, the body fell away as the head remained on the stairs.
With startling speed, the situation was over.
Furious, Alexander kicked the body aside as he went for Christin, who was picking herself up from the ground. He caught her by the arm, helping her to her feet.
“Are you injured?” he asked.
Christin shook her head, though she was holding her left elbow. “I… I do not think so,” she said. “Sherry, you killed him!”
Alexander had to force himself to take a deep breath and calm down. Christin was not terribly injured and FitzRoy was dead.
That was all he cared about.
“I had to,” he said quietly. “I know we told you that this was your duty, but you belong to me and when the duty became yours, it became mine. I could not stand by and not help you. I hope you understand that.”
She looked at him, a weary smile on her face. “Of course I do,” she murmured. “I am glad you did.”
Alexander didn’t have anything more to say, so he pulled Christin against him, comforting her. Or perhaps he was really comforting himself, knowing she was safe and alive and this whole stupid mess was over. As he turned to glance at FitzRoy, a bloody mess on his entry stairs, Sean walked up. He looked at FitzRoy for a brief moment before turning around and motioning to the men behind him.
“Get the body,” he said. “De Lohr will want him.”
Maxton and Kress came up to collect FitzRoy, one taking the body and one taking the head by the hair, carrying both back to the horses. As Caius helped Maxton heave up the body onto Sean’s horse, Kress went to hunt for something to wrap the head in. The two gate guards, who had watched the entire incident unfold, tried to intervene but Kevin and Bric raised their swords to them and chased the men into the darkness.
There was no doubt that the witnesses to the event would be eliminated.
It was a precise, swift operation, not unlike the dozens of operations the knights had completed in the past. No emotion, no fear, no disgust – simply business. They’d had a plan and they’d stuck to it. They would remove the body and remove the witnesses.
No trace.
The Executioner Knights lived up to their name this night.
As FitzRoy was being secured on the back of the Sean’s horse, Sean turned to Alexander and Christin. They were huddled together, with Alexander’s face on the top of Christin’s head. Sean could see in that moment how much this situation had meant to them both. In truth, they’d both been so professional about it that he’d hardly realized it until now.
Now, he could see the fear and relief.
“You did well, Christin,” Sean said. “It is rare to see a woman with such bravery and I am proud to serve with you.”
Christin smiled weakly, looking over to the body that was being secured. “A pity he could not have simply left me alone,” she said. “When he said he was married, I had hoped my troubles were over.”
Sean lifted his eyebrows. “That,” he said, “was a distinct surprise.”
“What will you tell the king?”
“I will tell him that I delivered you as I was ordered,” he said. “Beyond that, I know nothing. And neither do you. Let your father handle this from now on.”
Christin nodded as Sean’s gaze moved between her and Alexander before turning and heading back to his horse. Christin watched him go for a moment before turning to Alexander.
“I will make sure my father knows that you saved me,” she said softly. “That was a very brave thing you did.”
Alexander gave her a squeeze. “As I said, I could not stand by and watch,” he said. “But I thought you might be angry at me for intervening. I did not mean to steal your glory.”
She snorted. “Glory?” She shook her head. “I think I have had enough glory to last me for a while. I think I would prefer to be Lady de Sherrington and let that be glory enough.”
He grinned. “Do you mean it?” he asked. “You are going to give up serving The Marshal without resistance?”
“You told me you did not want your wife going on missions.”
“And you said we could serve together like Achilles and Susanna.”
She laughed softly. “Mayhap we will, someday,” she said. “But for now… now, I simply want to go home. With you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Home where? I do not have a home and the only home you have is Norwich Castle.”
“Lioncross Abbey,” she said softly. “I want to go home to Lioncross and I want you to come with me. Please, Sherry. Take me home.”
His smile faded. “As you wish,” he said, stroking her hair. “Let’s deliver FitzRoy to your father and ask his permission if I may take you home. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough.”
“And then I will ask for permission to marry you.”
She chuckled. “Hand over FitzRoy when you do,” she said. “That way, he cannot deny you. The body of his enemy in exchange for his blessing.�
�
It was the way such bargains were struck in the world of the Executioner Knights. Grinning at one another, the pair headed back to the horses but as they were sharing a special moment, Kevin was having a moment of his own.
Over in the darkness, he was brooding. He’d just chased down one of the stupid gate guards and put his sword through the man’s belly to silence him, but as he headed back to the group as they prepared to ride off, he was becoming more and more disturbed.
It had to do with his discussion with Alexander the night before and how the man had lectured him on how he treated his brother. Truth be told, Kevin didn’t serve with his brother that much and this ride to FitzRoy had been a rare occurrence. He usually avoided Sean at all costs, but that hadn’t been possible over the past couple of days. He’d watched how the other knights seemed to have such great esteem for Sean, something that Kevin used to ignore.
But now, he wasn’t ignoring it.
Watching Sean and Alexander interact with Christin and FitzRoy had him thinking heavily on his brother and the man’s sacrifice. He served the king, yet he clearly enabled Christin and Alexander to kill the man’s bastard son. Kevin had always known Sean walked a fine line between keeping the illusion of Lord of the Shadows and working with The Marshal and his spy ring to keep the country safe. That had never been in dispute. But what he saw tonight… tonight, he realized just how much Sean was risking.
It was complicated, confusing, and dangerous, but through it all, Sean did his duty.
And Kevin had hated him for it.
Perhaps that’s why he was so disturbed at the moment. He was starting to see what everyone else saw. Alexander’s words had impacted him more than he cared to admit, that stubborn younger brother who was so terribly hurt by his older brother’s actions. Perhaps that really was the problem all along; Kevin knew how great Sean was. He’d idolized him his entire life, so when Sean became the Lord of the Shadows, Kevin had been hurt and confused by it.
His brother deserved so much better.
But Sean clearly felt what he was doing was better.
Kevin had been stewing on it since yesterday and as the men began to mount their horses, he made his way over to Sean, who was tightening up one of the ropes on FitzRoy’s headless body. Perhaps Kevin just didn’t want to stew anymore, or perhaps he simply needed to get things out in the open, but he came up on the other side of Sean’s horse, looking at the top of his brother’s head as he bent over the body.
The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 26