That had to be it.
Maxton was instantly on his guard.
“I will confirm it,” he said after a moment. “But if you know that, then you also know that the very encounter was the reason we were prisoners of the Lords of Baux.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
Maxton wasn’t comfortable speaking about a situation that had impacted him and his friends intensely, but he had little choice. His suspicions were growing, and he was coming to wonder if there weren’t a hundred crown troops outside of the tavern, all of them awaiting a signal from The Marshal to come charging in and puncture him to death. If William knew he’d met with the pope, then he probably knew why. Even though the offer had been made in the strictest confidence, something like that wouldn’t remain a secret forever. Men talked.
With that thought lingering on his mind, Maxton proceeded carefully, trying not to look like a man who was pleading his case.
But he was.
“Much as you have heard of our reputation, so had the Holy Father,” he said, his voice so low that it was coming out as a growling whisper. “When we reached Rome on our journey back to England, an Italian knight we had become acquainted with during our time in The Levant spoke of a papal directive of a most secretive kind. It would seem that the knight had a cousin in the Lateran Palace, and the Holy Father had been looking for good English knights for a special mission. Our friend, the Italian knight, had mentioned what he knew of us to his cousin, who in turn told the Holy Father. We were evidently what the Holy Father was looking for, and we were brought to the Lateran Palace. When we were deemed trustworthy, we met with the Holy Father himself.”
William was listening intently. “Just like that? Was it so easy, then, to have an audience with Lothar?”
Maxton’s lips twitched with an ironic smile. “Nay, it was not so easy as all that,” he said. “We spent months in Rome, being seduced by those in the Lateran Palace and all they could provide us. Wine and women, and even money. We lived like kings. When it was determined we were loyal enough to the Holy Father, we were summoned to speak with him. But it took time.”
William sighed faintly, digesting the situation. “Why did you remain, then? Purely for the fact that you were being spoiled with food and comfort?”
Maxton lifted his big shoulders. “Nay,” he said, “although I will admit that after the hell of The Levant, it was a welcome change. We remained because we were intrigued by whispers of large sums of money and property that the Holy Father was willing to pay for a most important task. Call it a mercenary intention if you must, but we had a purpose in remaining. It wasn’t simply hedonism.”
William’s eyes glittered as he looked at him. “All men have a mercenary heart,” he said. “It is the one thing every man has in common, if nothing else. So… you remained where you were pampered and spoiled, waiting for an offer of a task with great rewards. When you finally met with Lothar, what did he ask of you?”
Maxton didn’t hesitate. “To kill the king.”
“John?”
“Aye.”
“And you refused?”
Maxton snorted. “That was why you found us in the possession of the Lords of Baux,” he said. “We refused to assassinate our own king and the Holy Father took exception to that. So that his offer to us would not become public knowledge, he threw us into the vault and then sold us off to the Lords of Baux, who had never made it clear what they intended to do with us. The garrison commander at Baux-de-Provence, who became friendly with us because he hated his lord with a passion, told us that we were to be ransomed back to our families, but that never materialized.”
William absorbed what he was being told. It was everything Gart had told him and more. “Did Lothar tell you why he wanted John removed?”
Maxton shook his head. “He did not,” he said flatly. “But he offered us enough riches to buy our own army if we took to the task. My lord, it is well known that John and the Holy Father are in contention with each other. That has never been a secret, so if I am made an offer to remove my king, I do not question it. But no reason given could be worthy enough for such a task. He may be a weak king, but he is the only one England has. He has his mother’s powerful backing, and I would rather see him on the throne than one of his brother’s children. A child upon England’s throne would be an invitation for disaster.”
They were astonishing and astute words. William stared at him a moment before finally shaking his head in a wry, and even foreboding, gesture.
“More than you know,” he muttered. “But that is exactly why Lothar wanted you to remove John. To put a child upon the throne.”
Maxton’s eyebrows lifted as Kress and Achilles sat closer, now completely wrapped up in the conversation. “A child?” Maxton repeated. “Who? Arthur? God, don’t tell me he wants that lad for the throne. He is controlled by Philip, the French king. Why would the Holy Father want a French-controlled king on the throne?”
William shook his head quickly. “He does not,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice, his yellowed eyes fixed on Maxton. “There is another.”
An expression of confusion washed over Maxton’s face. He glanced at Kress and Achilles, who appeared equally perplexed. Seeing their reactions, Maxton returned his focus to William.
“Of whom do you speak?” he asked. “Who else is there?”
Their confusion was evident, telling William that everything Maxton had told him was the truth. They truly didn’t know the motive behind the pope’s request. With that realization, William sighed heavily before proceeding.
“Richard wintered in Sicily ten years ago en route to The Levant,” he said grimly. “While there, he had a liaison with a nobleman’s daughter and a son was born. That child is now in the possession of Lothar and he plans to eliminate John and place Richard’s own son upon the throne. He is prepared to swear that the child’s mother was married to Richard, thereby rendering his marriage to Berengaria null. He will make the boy Richard’s legal heir and the hereditary king of England.”
Maxton stared at him. In fact, they were all staring at him, every man at the table other than Gart, who was still being alert for anyone else listening to the conversation. But the lull became extended enough that Gart finally looked to the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Maxton, Kress, and Achilles.
“This news you hear comes from me,” Gart said quietly, watching three sets of astonished eyes turn to him. “I received the information from a man very close to the Holy Father.”
Maxton wasn’t over his shock. “Who?”
“Abramo.”
That brought a reaction from Maxton. “I know this man,” he said. “He is the right hand to the Holy Father. In fact, I would say that he controls those in the church even more than the Holy Father does. He is a sinister man who wields great power.”
“And this information come from him,” Gart emphasized. “They wanted English knights to assassinate John because it was felt that Englishmen could get closer to the king than a foreign warrior. That is what they wanted of you, Max. They wanted you to remove John from the throne so they could put Richard’s bastard upon it.”
Maxton didn’t think he could be any more astonished than he already was, but he was wrong. It was a massive plot and the more he pondered it, the more astounded he became.
“And I refused,” he muttered. Then, his sharp gaze moved quickly between Gart and William. “But I would wager to say that was not the end of it. They would simply make the offer to someone else.”
William nodded, seeing that Maxton was coming to fully understand the situation now. “And they have,” he said, “but we do not know who it is. That is where you come in, why we have ransomed you. It will take men of your particular talents to prevent the assassins from reaching the king. In fact, I would suspect whoever has been charged with that task is already here, in England.”
Maxton frowned. “But surely the king has enough guards of the body,” he said. “You do not need us
to protect the king.”
“Nay, not protect,” William said. “But you think like assassins because you are assassins. It will take men like you to find whoever Lothar managed to send and prevent them from completing their mission. Every dirty act you’ve ever committed, and every brutal thought you’ve ever entertained, has created a skill set in you that no one else has. Do you understand me, Loxbeare? You must find these men before they can get to the king. That is why you have been ransomed – this is a job that only you can do.”
Now, Maxton did, indeed, understand everything and the entire situation made perfect sense. All of it. He looked at Kress and Achilles, seeing the same understanding in their eyes. Their purpose was made clear now and, not strangely, Maxton felt some relief. When he’d thought he’d been brought here to be interrogated about the pope’s offer, the meeting turned out to be something altogether different. In fact, now that the truth was known, he felt some enthusiasm for the task. This was different from what he was usually called upon to do and there was some relish in that challenge.
Assassins finding assassins…
“You are correct,” he said after a moment. “This is a job that only we can do. And you are also correct in that whoever the Holy Father managed to coerce into this task is probably already in England. I am surprised they have not yet made an attempt on the king, in fact. Have you made John’s commanders aware of this threat?”
William shook his head. “Nay,” he said, “but after this meeting, Windsor is my destination. John has just arrived from Winchester and he is expecting to see me. So before this night is out, John and his men shall know of this threat. And they shall also know that we have the best men for the job to prevent it.”
Maxton agreed with him with a slight nod of his head; he could feel his confidence surging, the taste of a deadly game upon his tongue. It was a familiar flavor. But he knew a great deal of this game and it was important he speak of it to William. The man had to understand, too, that this was no ordinary task.
The stakes were too high.
“I must stress that John must do nothing differently,” he said. “If he does anything out of the ordinary, or goes into hiding, whoever the Holy Father has sent will know that something is amiss – he will realize that John knows of the plot. Therefore, in order to catch these men, we need to draw them out, and we can only do that if John maintains his usual schedule.”
William was nodding before Maxton finished speaking. “I am aware,” he said. “I will ensure that the king does nothing differently, but you must come up with some manner of plan to catch these assassins, Loxbeare. You simply cannot prowl London hoping to run into them at some point.”
Maxton smiled thinly. “Unfortunately, that is part of the job,” he said. “We will, indeed, be combing London for information, but it will be for the purpose of formulating a plan. And we will need a base in London, somewhere to stay while we work.”
William waved a hand. “Not to worry,” he said. “You may stay at Farringdon House, near Aldersgate. It is a home that belonged to my mother, and my wife hates it because it is more fortress than home, so my men and my allies stay there when they are in London. It is place of knights and everyone knows it. You have use of it and whatever else you need.”
Maxton glanced at his clothing. “I fear we need decent weapons and clothing,” he said. “We cannot go on a hunt looking like paupers.”
William nodded sharply. “Gart shall get you everything you need,” he said. Then, he pointed a finger at Maxton. “But there is no time to waste. Get what you need and be quick about it. John is in London because he has called a meeting of his marcher lords, and I intend to be part of that meeting.”
“Marcher lords?” Maxton repeated. “Is there trouble in Wales, then? Is that what has been happening since we have been in The Levant?”
William shook his head. “Nothing so dramatic,” he said. “John has a surprisingly good relationship with the Welsh, but there are the usual things to discuss. It is a country always on the brink of rebellion, so he has called for his marcher lords. Christopher and David de Lohr shall be there, as well as the Lords of the Trilaterals, the de Laras. They should all be converging on London as we speak.”
A flicker of recognition crossed Maxton’s features. “The de Lohr brothers will be here?”
“I take it you know them?”
Maxton thought on the two men he’d known for twenty years or more, men who were essential for the control of the country. He’d fought with them, and killed for them, and had been allied with them for a very long time. But their relationship hadn’t always been a good one. Maxton had a love/hate relationship with Christopher even in the best of times, and when the men had all served in The Levant together, Christopher and David had taken the path of glory at Richard’s side while Maxton and Kress and Achilles had found themselves embroiled in the dirty dealings of the Christian commanders.
Perhaps, there was a part of Maxton that had resented the de Lohr brothers and their righteous path to glory, and there had been contention between them because of it. But the truth was that Maxton’s contention with Christopher, in particular, had old roots, indeed. The noble and honorable Christopher compared to the sly and ruthless Maxton. Maxton had watched Christopher soak up the adulation at times while Maxton remained in the shadows, doing the dirty work.
He was still doing the dirty work.
“Aye, I know them,” he finally said. “Do Christopher and David know of this plot against John?”
William shook his head. “No one does,” he said. “But I intend to tell them. They are trustworthy. And we may need their assistance, so it is better if they know.”
Maxton couldn’t disagree with him, but he had a point to make. “Tell them if you must, but I will not tolerate any interference from them. Chris was Richard’s champion and he may feel as if his greatness is needed in this situation as well. You will tell him that it is not. For what I must do, I do not need a de Lohr.”
There was some animosity as he spoke, cluing William in on the fact that although Maxton knew Christopher, there was evidently no love lost there. But he wouldn’t ask about it; he didn’t care, anyway. He was more focused on Loxbeare and ensuring the man had his full confidence to do the job tasked to him.
“De Lohr will not interfere,” he assured him. “In any case, I shall return to Farringdon in a day or two, and I shall expect to hear of your plan for the king. Is this clear?”
Maxton took him at his word when it came to de Lohr, making it easier for him to return his focus to the task ahead of him. “It is, my lord.”
There was respect in his tone, not missed by William. “Excellent,” he said. “Now that you have your duty, you will excuse me to go about mine.”
Without another word, he excused himself and headed out of the tavern with his men in tow, leaving Maxton, Gart, Kress, and Achilles still seated at the table. It was true that a hint of shock still lingered among them, and perhaps the slightest bit of intimidation of the job ahead of them. It was an extremely important one, perhaps more important than anything they’d ever done. But they would not fail.
The could not.
“Well?” Maxton said, breaking the silence. “It seems we have a task to complete.”
Gart, who had remained largely silent and observant throughout the conversation with William, could hear the confidence in Maxton’s tone and it was both surprising and pleasing. The man he’d just spent the past few months with had lacked that tone in his voice; even Kress had commented about it. Max was quiet during our months in captivity, and when he did speak, he was oddly philosophical. If Gart hadn’t known any better, he would think that Maxton was beginning to question everything he’d ever known, his very existence, in fact. Gart had witnessed the change in the man, but in just a short conversation with William Marshal, Gart didn’t sense that change from Maxton any longer.
That confidence was much more like the man he knew.
Perhaps it was bec
ause the man had a purpose now, or perhaps it was because he was feeling useful again. Months in captivity could damage a man’s soul, but Maxton was strong. Perhaps, all of the quietness had been his way of dealing with the situation and nothing more. It didn’t seem to matter now, whatever the reason, because Gart could see glimmers of the Maxton he knew before him.
A man who would get the job done or die trying.
He hoped it didn’t come to that.
CHAPTER FOUR
London
Inside the city walls, near Bishopsgate
She was starving.
It was just before dawn on the dark, cold, and dangerous streets of London as she kept to the shadows, looking out for any threat, and then stumbling along the gutter in her quest for something to eat. It didn’t even matter what it was; she hadn’t eaten in two days and her insides were starting to gnaw themselves out. Her entire body was quaking, suffering from the lack of sustenance, but unfortunately it was an all-too-common state for her.
She starved on a regular basis.
The woman wasn’t particularly young; perhaps she’d seen twenty-two or even twenty-three years. She wasn’t a child. She was clad in simple woolen garments, undyed, and without shape. They were garments the poor would wear because they could afford nothing else but, in this case, the garments were worn by a pledge of St. Blitha.
The only clothes she had.
The gutters were pools of water mixed with urine and feces, and she slipped into the puddles more than once, soaking her simple leather shoes. They were worn and had holes in them that had been repeatedly sewn and mended because, much like her woolen clothing, they were all she had. They were usually clean but, at this moment, she didn’t care about clean. She only cared about food.
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