Nunnery Brides

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Maxton nodded as he eyed the young knight; he was handsome, square-jawed, and powerfully built. But the eyes… they were a shade of dark blue, but the intensity radiating from them was palpable. He nodded his head briefly.

  “De Lara,” he greeted. “You and I will converse privately at some point very soon.”

  Sean nodded firmly. “Aye, my lord. A pleasure.”

  Maxton didn’t linger on Sean because William was pulling him to the knight standing next in line.

  “And this is Kevin de Lara, Sean’s younger brother. He has the strength of a bull, so do not let his shorter stature fool you. He will take you off your feet before you know what has hit you.” He came to the last two men in the line of knights. “And these final two warriors are particularly important – the man with the blue eyes is the premier knight for the House of de Winter. He’s also Irish to the bone and he’ll rip your head off before you know what hit you, so beware. I’ve never met a meaner man next to you, Loxbeare.”

  Maxton lifted his eyebrows at the large knight with the piercing blue eyes, so blue that they were silver. “Is that so?” he said, a hint of doubt in his tone. “Forgive me, my lord, but if this is a gathering of marcher lords, then I am not sure why de Winter need be present. De Winter is not a marcher lordship, the last I heard.”

  William answered. “De Winter has a small outpost near Gloucester, so there is some vested interest in the Marches,” he said. “Bric MacRohan leads the de Winter war machine, and that is something we cannot do without.”

  Maxton nodded in understanding. “I see,” he said. Then, he addressed the silver-eyed knight. “Where are you from, Irish?”

  A blond eyebrow lifted. “The name is MacRohan,” he reminded him in an Irish accent so thick that it was barely understandable. “My family hails from Dungarvan Castle, but I was born in Ardmore.”

  “I see,” Maxton said. His gaze was intense on the man. “No offense intended, but you are not English. The situation we are to discuss requires men who are loyal to England to the core. I have never heard of such loyalty from an Irish knight.”

  That comment only seemed to bring color to MacRohan’s pale cheeks, and William took the hint. He quickly pulled Maxton away from the Irish knight with the flaring nostrils.

  “Don’t look at him any longer,” he muttered. “I’ve seen him throttle men for less than what you have just said. Every word out of your mouth from this point on will be a challenge to him.”

  “It is a legitimate concern.”

  “MacRohan is related to de Winter by marriage. His loyalty to England is beyond contestation. One more comment like that from you and we may have real trouble from him, so look away, lad, look away. Don’t look a mad dog in the eye.”

  Maxton wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but to tempt fate, he looked over his shoulder at Bric MacRohan to see that the man was, indeed, glaring at him as if waiting for him to say the wrong word.

  In truth, Maxton thought it was rather humorous, although he appreciated a man with such a commanding presence and a quick temper. Men with little control fascinated him, which was probably why he had made a companion of Achilles. He was the same way. As Maxton fought off a smile, thinking that he already liked MacRohan for some strange reason, the last knight in the chamber was introduced.

  “Finally, this is Dashiell du Reims,” William said. “He is a cousin to the de Lohr brothers, as his father is the Earl of East Anglia. Dash is his heir and holds the title of Viscount Winterton. Currently, he serves the Duke of Savernake and helps command the great Savernake armies.”

  Maxton greeted Dashiell with a nod of his head, noting the powerfully built man with the auburn hair. He didn’t look much like the de Lohrs, who were both blond-haired and blue-eyed, but he had the same build as David, and as a commander of the massive Savernake army, he was a man of considerable power.

  “Du Reims,” he said. “Your family legacy is a great one.”

  Dashiell had a rather gruff manner. “It is, my lord,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Maxton cocked an eyebrow. “But that greatness is tempered by your relationship to the de Lohr brothers. You could have picked better relatives.”

  A smile played on Dashiell’s mustache-covered lips. “Next time I will be more careful.”

  “See that you are.”

  The grin broke through. Dashiell was the last introduction in a meeting that had already been full of them, but Maxton’s mind was very sharp. He had the ability to completely recall every detail from nearly every moment in his life, and that included introductions. Once he met a man, he never forgot him, or anything about him, so as he absorbed the considerable power that was filling the chamber, William spoke to him.

  “These are the men who will be at your disposal as you make plans for what is to come,” he said. “I realize you said that you and your companions work best as a team, but know these men are ready and willing to assist you, whatever your need may be, and, in particular, you must establish a working relationship with Sean since he is going to be so close to John. You will need that communication.”

  Maxton nodded. “I imagine so,” he said, glancing over at Sean, who had turned to speak quietly with his brother. “Does the king know that Sean reports to you?”

  William shook his head. “Although I gifted Sean to the king as a token of trust, and Sean has sworn his fealty to John, the truth is that Sean is there to watch John’s every move. It may not be entirely possible because John surrounds himself with his hand-chosen advisors, but Sean will at least know of the man’s movements. He will report them to me as he can.”

  Maxton pondered that directive. “Then he is your spy.”

  “He is.”

  Maxton understood. “Does anyone else know?”

  William shook his head. “Nay,” he mumbled. “Not even his brother. Kevin adores Sean and if he knew, he might try to help him, and we do not need young Kevin involved. He is an excellent knight, but I am afraid his willingness and emotion would give Sean away. And nothing must give the man away.”

  “Agreed,” Maxton said. “But Sean’s position with John will be invaluable.”

  William nodded, holding up a hand to Maxton to prevent him from further conversation at this point. William, in fact, had an agenda and he needed to complete it quickly. He had plans for the day that were already set and they did not include lingering overly at Farringdon House. Therefore, he motioned the men in the room closer so they could all hear the conversation.

  “Now that I have made the appropriate introductions, you are all allies on a first-name basis,” he said seriously, looking to every man around him. “Total trust and total loyalty are imperative from this point on, with all of you. I have explained the situation with Lothar and John; you know that Lothar offered Maxton and Kress and Achilles great rewards in exchange for the assassination of John, an offer they refused. We know that Lothar is in possession of Richard’s bastard son and that he is prepared to remove John and supplant him with the boy. And we know that Maxton, Kress, and Achilles are here to stop the assassins that Lothar has undoubtedly already sent. They could be in England as we speak. It is up to the Executioner Knights to find them and eliminate them. That is the gist of the situation, gentlemen, but make no mistake; we need John. As difficult as he is, he guarantees an England free of papal rule. To place the illegitimate son of Richard upon the throne would assure the destruction of everything we hold dear.”

  A heady mood settled about the room, the situation as serious as these seasoned men had ever seen it. Now, this horrible plot was out in the open, something that William had only whispered about to each of them until now. Speaking of it in something other than hissed tones somehow made it more real, and far more powerful than they could imagine. Every man there realized that they were the last line of defense between the England they knew and an England ruled by the Lateran Palace.

  It was a devastating thought.

  “What do you have planned?” Christopher
broke the silence as he spoke to Maxton. “And what do you need from us?”

  Maxton looked at the serious faces around him. He could see that they were all sincere in assisting him but, as he’d told William, he didn’t need the interference. It would have been easier to tell them all to go away, but he couldn’t. They had a genuine desire to help against this heinous threat because it was something that affected every one of them. Not wanting to insult anyone, he tried to be tactful in his response.

  “I will need intelligence,” he said. “You good lords have a wide scope in England; I need information on anyone unusual. Men you do not recognize, men who seem out of place. It is my guess that the Holy Father sought out other seasoned knights when my comrades and I refused his offer, and it is further my suspicion that those knights are English. The Holy Father was concerned that foreign knights would not be able to get close enough to John to carry out their mission, so we would be looking for English knights, newly return from the continent and beyond. If you hear of such men, I must know.”

  Heads were nodding as Maxton turned his attention towards Kress and Achilles and continued. “In between pitchers of ale last night, my comrades and I spoke of the correct approach to this,” he said. “We have decided that the best approach, at this point, would be to remain in London near the docks. Anyone entering the country would most likely come from there, so we will be infiltrating the taverns and gangs that are near the docks. We will make friends with the trollops and the street urchins. Often, they see and hear things that would prove valuable to our cause, so that is where we are headed. If anyone slips past our net, then that is where you good men come in. Remain vigilant. Look for anything strange.”

  “What about sending word to our allies in France and beyond?” David wanted to know. “Mayhap they will have heard something – anything – to aid our cause.”

  But Maxton shook his head. “The more men know of this, the more chance there is of word reaching the very men we seek,” he said. “We do not know who they are, or where they are, but if they know we are aware of their existence, it will make our task far more difficult.”

  That drew a few nods from men who agreed, mostly Sean de Lara. Given that he had been tasked with spying on the king himself, he well understood that the less men who knew of the issue, the better. Considering the nature of the situation, Maxton’s plan seemed to be a strong one, and a logical one. In truth, there was nothing more they could do. As the men began to turn to each other, speaking softly, Maxton made his way to Cullen.

  “And you,” he said, putting a strong hand on the young knight’s arm. “Your role in this will be most important. The king’s favorite castle of Winchester is not far from your father’s fortress. You would do well to frequent the village of Winchester on the hunt for men who do not belong there.”

  Cullen nodded grimly. “And my father?” he asked. “He is the High Sheriff, Max. I know you wish to keep this situation quiet, but he is trustworthy. He should know what is happening.”

  Maxton glanced at William, who had heard the request and nodded his head in response. “Then tell him,” Maxton said with William’s approval. “Tell your older brothers, too. Gabriel and Gavin de Nerra are excellent knights and very trustworthy. They will be able to assist you and your father in making sure Winchester is covered. Since it is no secret that John is in residence there often, it could be that the assassins will try to strike there.”

  Cullen had his orders, eager to get on with them. This was the most important thing he’d ever been involved in and he understood that. Seeing the knight’s confidence, Maxton knew that Winchester would be in good hands. But that also brought about the subject of the king’s movements in general. The man liked to move around. He turned to Sean, standing with his brother.

  “Unfortunately, this will be a burden for you to bear, Sean,” he said. “If the assassins slip past us in London, then you will be the last line of defense. The king does not know of this threat for good reason; he will panic and go into hiding, and it will lessen the chance that we will be able to catch these men. If they think the king is oblivious, and that no one knows there is a threat against him, they will move more freely and we will have a better chance of finding them. Therefore, do not share this information with any of the king’s guard. These are men we do not know or trust, and we cannot take the chance that someone will inform the king of the threat. Do I make myself clear?”

  Sean nodded. “You do, my lord,” he said, “but if the assassins make it past you, then they shall not make it past me. This, I swear.”

  Maxton didn’t know the knight, but he believed him. There was something in his tone that suggested nothing other than complete certainty.

  “Good,” he said. “But you must let me know any time the king moves from location to location. Even if he simply wants to go on a walkabout in the city, I must know. You must send word to Farringdon House, as we will check in daily for such missives. If John moves, we will shadow him. Mayhap his movements will draw the moths to the flame.”

  “Or the assassins to a king.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sean understood the seriousness of it. “I will do my very best to send you such information.”

  With that, plans were finally cast. At least they had a directive now, a scheme that would hopefully prevent the country from being thrown into turmoil. But there wasn’t one man there who didn’t believe they were in for a battle – a battle of locating just a few men who had been directed to kill a king in a city, and a country, of thousands and thousands of people. The proverbial needle in a haystack. But it was a battle with no real lines drawn, no definitive enemy, simply phantoms.

  They were looking for phantoms.

  “You have your directives, good men,” William finally said, breaking the silence that had settled. “I will see you later today when we meet with John and his issues with Wales, and even then, we will be on the lookout for those sent by Lothar. Your vigilance and Maxton’s sense of danger are the only things standing between England and ruin. Remember that.”

  No one had to be reminded. The seriousness of the situation had been hammered into them.

  It was do or die.

  Christopher and David were the first to leave the chamber, bidding Maxton and Kress and Achilles a polite farewell as they departed. Having been involved in the politics of England for many years, a mission of great importance was nothing new to them, and they took it very seriously. Dashiell and Bric were next, with Bric casting Maxton a final glare as they followed the de Lohr brothers from the paneled room.

  Maxton saw the expression the Irish knight had thrown him but he ignored it, instead, focusing on Cullen as the man bid him a warm farewell. Cullen also shook the hands of Kress and Achilles as he went because he was the amiable sort. He liked to hug and shake hands, at least of men he was fond of. Kevin de Lara followed after him, a silent knight who was deeply introspective and made no real move to be polite in his departure, but his brother, Sean, lingered behind. He hadn’t followed Kevin, not yet; he had something more to say.

  “I will head to Westminster now to join the king and his entourage,” Sean said quietly, his gaze moving between Maxton and William. “I can tell you that John has been toying with the idea of hunting tomorrow in the forests outside of Windsor Castle, which will make it difficult to protect the man. I cannot prevent a well-placed arrow from the trees.”

  William grunted unhappily. “Nay,” he said. “But you can watch the trees. Send men into them to keep them clear. That would be a normal procedure for the protection of the king, in any case, so there should not be anything unusual about that directive.”

  Sean didn’t say what he was thinking – it wasn’t as simple as that. John didn’t like men in his forests, even if it was to protect him. He felt that it scared away the game. But he didn’t argue the point with William; there was little reason to because William would tell him to do it anyway. And he would.

  He would do as he was to
ld.

  Resigned, he simply nodded his head. “If John does decide to hunt tomorrow, I will send you word later tonight.”

  “See that you do,” William replied. “And, Sean… know that we are depending on you a great deal for any information you can provide. Know that I have complete and utter faith in you.”

  Sean’s gaze lingered on William a moment, perhaps surprised by a statement that sounded suspiciously like praise, before departing the chamber, his boot falls fading as he took the stairs down to the ground floor. When the sounds of his footsteps were gone and the world around them was silent, Maxton turned to William.

  “He has a very difficult job ahead of him,” he said. “How good is he, my lord?”

  William lifted an eyebrow. “As good as I have ever seen,” he assured Loxbeare. “Have no fear, Maxton – I know how to judge a man. Sean de Lara is destined for greatness, mark my words. As are you. Now, I also intend to head to the Palace at Westminster, as that is where we shall be meeting with the king. Keep me informed.”

  He put a hand on Maxton’s shoulder as he walked away, followed by Gart, who had remained silent during the entire meeting. He had been lurking on the outskirts, watching everything, absorbing. It was an important moment for him because he was the one who had recommended Maxton and Kress and Achilles for this task. So more than anything, his reputation was on the line as well.

  He could see that he hadn’t been wrong.

  “I will be shadowing The Marshal, but send word if you need me,” Gart said as he moved past Maxton and headed for the door. But he paused just shy of it, turning to look at the three men still remaining in the chamber. “This is your moment, gentle knights. If ever the fate of a country rested with only three men, this is the time. You were sprung from the bowels of Les Baux-de-Provence for a reason, and that reason is upon you now. Bonne chance, my friends. You will need it.”