A Time of End

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Alexander.

  “Has William Marshal arrived?”

  The question came from John as he looked upon Alexander and the tunic he wore. Having just witnessed the horrific scene between the king and Christin, Alexander wasn’t feeling particularly amiable towards the man. He could barely force himself to be polite in his response.

  “Not that I am aware of, your grace,” he said. “I know that he is planning on coming but not when he is due to arrive.”

  John simply nodded his head, faintly, sizing up Alexander. He knew who the man was; he knew it very well. John and William Marshal had shared a relationship with its ups and downs, but John knew that William’s main directive in life was to protect the monarchy, so essentially, men like Alexander de Sherrington were allied with him. Technically. But the truth of it was that William Marshal and the men who served him were spies and assassins, and from what John had heard, Alexander was one of the worst.

  Or the best.

  Either way, John was wary of him.

  “Then leave and take the Irishman with you,” he said. “You are not required here.”

  Alexander and Bric departed the solar without another word, heading out of the keep. They needed to talk and couldn’t do that with any guaranteed privacy in the keep, so they headed out into the torch-lit night, heading straight for the chapel because it would be empty at this hour.

  The chapel of Norwich Castle was indeed dark and cold and empty. It had long lancet windows on either side, inlaid with precious colored glass depicting saints. The chapel wasn’t very big given the size of the castle, crowded on either side with de Winter family crypts. They were all buried here, all the way back to Denis de Winter, who had come to the shores of England with the Duke of Normandy.

  Alexander looked around the dark, shadowed chapel before finally calling out to see if there was anyone lingering nearby. He didn’t receive an answer, nor did he hear any sounds, so he turned to Bric, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.

  “How long has John been with Daveigh?” he asked.

  Bric shook his head. “From nearly the moment he arrived,” he said. “Peter and Kevin and I arrived about a half-hour before the king did and we were speaking to Daveigh when John simply walked in. There was no announcement; the man simply arrived.”

  Alexander ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Christ,” he hissed. “That entire situation was a nightmare. And now he wants to sup with Christin de Lohr? We cannot allow it.”

  “I am not sure how we can stop it,” Bric said. “The king’s word is law. He is not denied.”

  Alexander looked at him. “She is an agent in William Marshal’s service,” he said. “We have some obligation to protect her, even from the king. Most of all, we have to do something or Peter will get himself killed trying to save his sister.”

  Bric knew that. Regretfully, he nodded. “I am glad he did not hear the royal summons,” he said. “In fact, we should probably remove him from the keep. Someone is going to tell him or he is eventually going to see it for himself when John demands his sister keep him company at sup.”

  “Then get him out of there,” Alexander said. “Tell him what has happened but be gentle with him. We must try to keep Christin away from the king until The Marshal arrives. After that… he will have to deal with the situation.”

  Bric nodded. “This is not something I expected. Of all the women the king could focus on…”

  Alexander agreed with the irony of that statement but he was also trying not to look as if his concern for Christin was something more than simple duty. Worse than tipping Peter off would be to tip everyone else off. Alexander de Sherrington did not frolic with women, and especially not a fellow agent. He was torn between not caring what anyone thought and protecting his pride and reputation.

  He was afraid that some might view it as a weakness.

  “Go find Peter,” he told Bric. “I will go find Lady Christin. She ran out of the chamber so fast she must be halfway out of the city by now.”

  “There are apartment blocks to the east of the chapel,” Bric said. “She may have gone there.”

  It was as good a place to start as any. Alexander and Bric headed to the chapel entry, with Bric heading back to the enormous keep while Alexander turned towards the apartments, bathed in a soft moonglow. He was heading down the path, planning on checking the first building, when something at the end of the path caught his attention.

  A beautiful moonlit wraith had entered his field of vision.

  Christin.

  “Where are you going?” Alexander asked as he came upon her in the darkness, noting the satchel in her hand. “What is happing, Cissy?”

  Christin looked at him, struggling to keep the fear from her expression. “You were right,” she said quietly. “The king did notice me. Now he wants to dine with me. I am leaving before he sends his men for me.”

  In spite of her best efforts to the contrary, Alexander could see the terror in her expression. With a heavy sigh, he put his hands out, grasping her gently by the upper arms.

  “I will take you,” he said quietly. “That is why I came to find you. I will take you into the village and find a place for you to hide, at least until The Marshal arrives. I fear he will want you here, but with his presence, the king is less likely to do anything… foolish.”

  Christin was tense. “Are you saying that he will protect me?”

  “I am saying that he will do his very best.”

  “That is not good enough.”

  Alexander felt as if he had brought this on her. She had been fearless of the king’s presence until he reminded her of the king’s reputation. Now, she was reverting to panic; he could see it in her eyes. That confident young woman who killed on command was terrified when she knew she could not defend herself against a threat. Not that Alexander blamed her.

  He was fairly upset about it, as well.

  “I want you to listen to me and listen closely,” he said. “You are a de Lohr, but more than that, you are an agent for William Marshal. I have seen you kill with more bravery than I have ever seen from a woman and you did it without fear. You are stronger than every woman I have ever known, Susanna de Dere included, because you have an innate sense of courage, justice, and determination. All of this without formal training. When I told you to stay away from the king, I meant it. But he has seen you now, so you must adjust your plans accordingly. If The Marshal will not protect you, then know that I will. I swear to you that I will not let John harm you.”

  Christin was watching him with a mixture of awe and confusion. He’d said so many nice things in that brief declaration that thoughts of the king were being pushed aside. All she could focus on was his chivalrous affirmation. It was part of the flattery he’d been liberal with since Ramsbury. But this time, there was something more behind it.

  She felt something more.

  “You think I am stronger than Susanna?” she said. “But she is Blackchurch-trained.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “As I said, if you’d been born male, you would have made a magnificent knight.”

  “If I was born male, we would not have this situation on our hands,” she said. “And I suspect you would not be so concerned for me.”

  “Of course I would. You are a comrade.”

  “I am also a woman, one you have called beautiful more than once.” She watched his dark eyes shift, as if her implications were rolling through his mind, and emboldened, she stepped towards him. “Mayhap I am speaking out of turn, but there is something I must say. Since leaving London, you have shown me attention that, if I were the suspicious or romantic type, I would have taken as your interest in me. Personally, I mean. Alexander, I have known of you for at least a year or two, ever since I started along this path with The Marshal. Both my father and my brother speak of you as if you are some kind of legend and that it what I know of you – that you are legendary. A man who is merely concerned for a comrade does not swear to protect her in the face of a
lustful king, especially when doing it would more than likely ruin him.”

  He was looking at her, guarded. He always had such a glimmer of warmth to his gaze that to see him looking at her as if he were wary or even defensive was quite different. In fact, he couldn’t seem to look her in the eyes so he turned away.

  “I have done many things in my life that are risky or questionable,” he said quietly. “This would be nothing new or different.”

  “Then you would do this for any woman?”

  “Nay.”

  “Why me?”

  He sighed heavily. “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “The truth, Sherry. Tell me the truth.”

  He was staring off towards the garden, mulling over her words. After a moment, he simply shook his head. “I have no right to,” he finally said. “Forgive me if I was too bold or too forward. You are a de Lohr and beyond my reach. It will not happen again.”

  “And you are a legend and beyond mine.”

  He looked at her, then. “Is that what you think? That I am elite?”

  She took another step towards him, now standing fairly close. She studied his face a moment. “Aye,” she said. “But you told me once that you were not afraid of my father and if you wanted something, you would get it.”

  “That is true.”

  “Did you mean me?”

  He held her gaze but it was difficult. The question hung between them and for a normally emotionless man, there were emotions rippling all across his face – longing, doubt, fear, interest – wordlessly, he was shouting them out to her, speaking of his dilemma. He was a man torn.

  But he was also a man cornered.

  The time had come for him to take a stand.

  “Although I am not worthy of you, aye, I meant you,” he murmured. “I am twice your age, Cissy. I have nothing to offer you but myself and that is not good enough for a woman like you. You deserve the most prestigious husband of the highest order, not an assassin with a past of unsavory things, a man who has wandered for the majority of his life. But you make me want to stop wandering and that is something I’ve never felt before.”

  Those were, perhaps, the most beautiful words a man had ever said to a woman. At least, Christin thought so. Her heart swelled so in her chest that she thought it was going to burst forth and as she looked at him, all she could feel was joy.

  Pure, unadulterated joy.

  She could hardly believe it.

  “You honor me,” she whispered. “You have no idea how much you honor me, Sherry. If you want to stop wandering… I will give you a reason to.”

  He looked at her, his eyes widening. “You will?”

  With a smile, she reached up, cupping his bearded face with the hand that wasn’t holding the satchel. It was the first moment of genuine affection between them, of her flesh against his, and it was not lost on either of them. At that moment, they ceased to become merely comrades.

  At that moment, the relationship between them deepened.

  “I do not care about your past,” she said. “You are a man to be admired in spite of what you think, and since we have come to know one another, I have seen a man of compassion and thoughtfulness and caring. That is the man I want to know more of. Buried beneath that assassin’s cloak, you have a tender heart, for I have seen a glimpse.”

  Her hand on his face was like heaven. Alexander gazed into her eyes, hardly believing what he was hearing. He’d been doubtful, and confused, but these past few precious moments had cleared all of that up. He knew what he wanted and he wanted Christin de Lohr.

  There was no doubt in his mind.

  “No one has seen that but you,” he said, an embarrassed grin on his face. “I would like to keep it that way, so do not tell anyone.”

  “Your secret is safe.”

  Alexander continued to stare at her, feeling emotions he’d never felt before. It was so unexpected, but so incredibly beautiful. Usually an eloquent man, he was having difficulty finding the words.

  “My life has always been one of duty,” he finally said. “I was the eldest son, raised to take my father’s place when the time came and raised to set an example for my brothers. They were twins – Adam and Andrew. Everything about my upbringing was so cold, so duty-driven. I fostered at six years of age and my master was a hard man. There was no warmth, no praise, only the message that there was always more to achieve. When I went with King Richard to The Levant, my brothers went with me. Like starry-eyed squires, they only thought of the greatness they would be achieving. They only wanted the glory. We departed with Richard in April, arrived in The Levant in September, and by June the following year, my brothers were both dead. Killed in the same battle. I have not been home since. I could not face my father.”

  Christin could hear the sorrow in his voice as he spoke of his brothers more in detail. The man had a tortured past that she could not have imagined.

  “That was many years ago,” she said. “Does your father know you survived?”

  Alexander nodded. “He knows,” he said. “I sent him word in the same missive I told him of Adam and Andrew’s deaths. That’s when… that’s when I ended up serving Richard directly. If there was a dirty mission to be carried out, an assassination to accomplish, I was his man. Me and Maxton and Kress and Achilles, among others. Maxton and Kress and Achilles traveled in a trio, but me… I preferred to work alone. It is better that way.”

  Christin wasn’t appalled by the talk. She’d heard it from her father, too, as he had been in The Levant. Unsavory things happened during war and she understood that. But in Alexander’s case, she could see the agony behind his actions.

  He had a deeper reason.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked softly. “None of it matters to me.”

  “So you know the kind of man I am.”

  “I know the kind of man you are. My father and my brother would not respect you so if you were not a man of character.”

  He looked at her as if she’d just said something outlandish. Then, he shook his head. “Sometimes, I wonder if that is true,” he said. “I am a man with a stained past.”

  “Are you trying to scare me away? It will not work, you know. I am not easily frightened.”

  One moment, Alexander was looking into her lovely face. In the next, she was in his arms. He didn’t know how it happened, only that it had. She was warm and soft in his embrace, something he hadn’t experienced in years, and certainly not like this. Never with someone he was coming to care about. It had been an impulsive move on his part, but not a surprising one. He looked at her, into those big, gray eyes, and knew there was nothing on this earth that could ever force him to let her go.

  Ever.

  “Cissy,” he said softly, “look at me. Really look at me. You must decide if I am what you truly want, for I will not accept a whim. Mayhap you are infatuated with the rumors you have heard and not the man I truly am. Only you can decide. But if you decide I am the man you want, nothing will stand in my way to make you mine. Not even your father. Will you go against him if he does not approve?”

  She was torn between the thrill of being held by him and the truth of his words. “Of course he will approve,” she said. “He has no reason not to.”

  “You did not answer my question.”

  Her free hand was on his shoulder, moving to his neck. Her fingers brushed against his warm flesh. “Aye,” she murmured. “You are the man I want. I do not make decisions based on whims. I cannot explain it, Sherry… from the moment we met, I felt something for you. Awe, respect, interest… all of those things. And you are devilishly handsome. When you look at me, I feel bolts of lightning course through my veins. But I never imagined you would feel the same way about me.”

  With a grin, his lips slanted over hers, kissing her as strongly and deeply as he had ever kissed a woman in his life. As he’d told her, his life had been one of cold duty, so to feel something warm and emotional had him reeling. His hands were in her hair, holding her
mouth to his as he feasted on her. He was kissing her so passionately that he heard her gasp, as if he’d been smothering her, so he quickly pulled away, concerned he’d overwhelmed her with what he was feeling.

  He was feeling everything.

  “You have me,” he whispered, his hands still in her glorious hair. “All of me. But at the moment, we must move you someplace safe until the king leaves Norwich. If he moves against you now… I cannot guarantee that I would not take my own advice.”

  She was licking her lips, dazed by the force of his kiss. “What do you mean?”

  “I would kill him.”

  Christin believed him and it terrified her, perhaps more than the king actually making a move on her. She couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to him because of her. Hand on his face, she kissed his bearded cheek.

  “I know,” she said softly. “I have heard there is a nice inn near the cathedral. I shall go there until this is over with.”

  He took her satchel from her and grasped her hand. “Come along, then,” he said. “We must hurry.”

  He was starting to head out through the main gate and she dug her heels in. “Nay,” she said. “Not that way. There is a gate that leads to the farmlands below. It will be easier to leave through the gate down there and we will not be seen by so many of John’s soldiers.”

  Alexander shifted direction. He began to walk, still holding Christin’s hand, passing into the small garden behind the keep. No sooner had he stepped foot into the garden than a massive shadow appeared in his way.

  Sean de Lara emerged from the shadows.

  Alexander came to a halt and dropped Christin’s hand, facing off against a man that served William Marshal in the capacity of the king’s bodyguard. But it was more than that; if the king ordered Sean to bring him a woman, Sean would do it without question. If the king ordered him to kill a rival, Sean would snap the man’s neck and toss him in the nearest river. Much as Alexander had a terrible reputation for brutality, Sean’s could match it and then some. Alexander’s reputation wasn’t out in the open as much as Sean’s was. Everyone in England feared the man known as Lord of the Shadows.