The Splendid Hour: The Executioner Knights Book 7

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Peter came to a halt, his eyes bugging. “My God,” he breathed. “It’s not true!”

  The Marshal nodded. “I know,” he said. “But that is why she was brought here. I almost had the king convinced to release her when you showed up, so now we are about to dance a very delicate dance, Peter. You must do everything I tell you or it will go very badly for Mistress Liora and her father.”

  Peter was pale with shock and realization. Something his father said occurred to him then. “After the meeting you called at Lonsdale yesterday, de Quincy threatened my father with something quite similar,” he said. “He had seen me and Liora together, somehow, and told my father that unless he agreed to a betrothal between me and Agnes, then Walter was going to tell the warlords that I was a traitor because I was giving secrets to Liora to pass to her father and, eventually, to the king.”

  The Marshal grunted unhappily. “So it is Walter,” he said. “The man wants you for his daughter very badly, Peter, enough to ruin the lives of people he does not even know. That speaks of madness.”

  “It speaks of an evil, vindictive man,” Peter agreed. “What do we do?”

  The Marshal started walking again. “The king believes you are here to speak to him about Liora and her father,” he said. “He is looking for confirmation that she is, indeed, a spy, but you must not give it to him. Speak to him about anything else, but not Liora. He already knows that you know her, so you cannot deny it, but you must make it seem as if you met her on whim and nothing more. She has told us about meeting you in her kitchen yard when you were hiding from Agnes.”

  Peter nodded, his mind quickly processing what he was being told. “It is true,” he said. “I just happened to end up there and she let me stay until the threat passed, taunting me the entire time. Somehow… somehow, I fell in love with her. We want to marry, you know.”

  “I know, but you must not bring that up, no matter what,” The Marshal said. “Peter, I will tell you something that I told the others when we met at Lonsdale yesterday. With Sean de Lara out of commission, I have taken his place. Do you wonder why I have sided with the king? It is because he must be watched and, right now, I am the best person for that task. My heart, my loyalty, is to the rebellion, but that must not be made known. John must think it is with him.”

  Peter looked at the old knight. Inarguably, the greatest knight England had ever seen, a man who worked his way up from the fourth son of a minor nobleman to one of the most important men in England. He’d risked his life, all of his life, for the greater good of England. Above all of his fret and strain, Peter could see how much William Marshal was sacrificing. It made his problems seem pale by comparison, but they were his problems.

  He intended to get everyone out of this intact.

  “I understand, my lord,” he said. “What do you wish me to tell the king my purpose is?”

  The Marshal seemed to visibly relax now that Peter had agreed to be cooperative. “I have thought about that,” he said. “The best subject I can come up with at such short notice is this – your father is a fine purveyor of horses and he has more than he knows what to do with, but the king recently came into possession of one of the finest Belgian warmbloods I have ever seen. The stallion’s name is Porthos and the king has been speaking about selling him at a great price because his progeny would be worth a good deal of money, so you can tell the king you’ve come to speak about buying the horse for your father.”

  Peter looked at him with doubt. “And he would believe that?”

  “He would,” he said. “Business is business. He may be your father’s enemy, but for the right price, he would sell his own mother. Better still, you can tell him that you wish to purchase the animal for yourself because, as your father’s bastard, you need to build your own empire since you will inherit nothing from him. I am sorry if this seems weak, but it is the best I can come up with.”

  They passed through the inner gatehouse with the royal apartments looming ahead. Peter felt a distinct sense of doom run through his veins at the sight, but he squared his shoulders. Liora was somewhere in that structure and he intended to do everything he could to secure her release. But according to The Marshal, he’d fouled that up simply by coming to Westminster.

  Therefore, he was going to have to think fast and trust The Marshal.

  “Very well,” he said after a moment. “I will do all that I can.”

  “Good,” The Marshal said, relief in his tone. “I will release Mistress Liora and her father as I had planned, but only if the king believes you. It is up to you, Peter.”

  Peter knew that. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

  The cool, dim innards of the royal apartments swallowed them up and Peter ended up following The Marshal down a corridor, into an enormous hall, and then into another corridor. He’d been in the halls of Westminster before, but it had been years ago. He didn’t remember it smelling quite so musty or being quite so dark. The Marshal led him into a chamber that, at first glance, had several men in it.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, for there was very little natural light in the chamber, he saw the king sitting on a chair on the far side of the chamber. But what he saw sitting next to the king caused him to start.

  The Marshal grabbed his wrist, stilling him.

  Liora was sitting next to the king, tears streaming down her face and Peter seriously thought he was going to ruin the entire plan then and there. His instinct was to run to her, killing any man who stood in his way, the king included.

  But he knew he couldn’t.

  He was trapped.

  Oh, God…

  “Welcome, young de Lohr,” the king said, a smile playing on his lips. “I was just telling your seductress how much I know about the de Lohr family and how you are the result of your father’s lack of restraint. Lady Amanda, was it? I remember your mother, actually. I think she had more than one lover, which means your father could be anyone, but you look so much like Christopher that there is no denying the bloodlines.”

  Peter turned to stone, from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. He tensed up as he had never tensed in his life and there was a retort on his lips that would have started a brawl, so he bit it off. He shoved it down, swallowed it, praying he could keep it down because all he wanted to do at the moment was fly at the man and cut his head off.

  That was where he would start.

  He wouldn’t end until the man was in pieces.

  Bastard!

  “Your grace,” he greeted with far more serenity than he felt. “I realize my appearance is a surprise, but I have come on a business matter.”

  He completely blew off John’s insults, which only made the king laugh. A soft, snickering laugh.

  “My, you are pleasant today,” he said. “Have you nothing to say about your lover sitting next to me?”

  Peter’s gaze moved to Liora, who was pale and terrified. It took every ounce of strength not to react to that, but he knew he couldn’t, for all their sakes.

  “Although she is attractive enough, regretfully, the lady is not my lover,” he said, almost callously. “Liora ben Thad, isn’t it? Her father is a jeweler.”

  “You have been seen with this woman, de Lohr,” John said, becoming less amused. “Do not pretend as if you hardly know her. I have it on good authority that she is your lover.”

  Peter shook his head. “My father would not be pleased were I to take a Jewess for a lover so, alas, whoever told you such a thing has lied to your royal ears,” he said. “No de Lohr takes a Jew for a lover. In fact, I came to speak with you on a business matter regarding my father. Well, actually, it is more about me, but I assume that I must speak to you directly.”

  Getting no reaction out of Peter whatsoever did not please John in the least. He frowned. “What business?” he snapped. “I have no business with you.”

  “Not at the moment, your grace,” Peter said. “But I understand you have a Belgian stallion you are thinking on selling
and given that you own him, I am sure he has the finest bloodlines. Normally, I would not bother you with such a thing, but my father has made it clear that I shall receive little to no inheritance from his estates, so I must build my own empire. Horse breeding is quite lucrative.”

  John’s face contorted with confusion. “You’ve come to discuss a horse?” he said. “Who told you about this animal?”

  Peter shrugged, thinking quickly and desperately. He didn’t have a planned answer for that question, but he knew he couldn’t tell him the truth. “I have spent a good deal of time in London this summer,” he said. “I… I heard some of your soldiers speaking of it. They populate the taverns in London, you know, particularly The Pox. I heard someone mention that you had a fine breeding stallion.”

  It was plausible enough. Barely. He was rather proud of himself for thinking so quickly. But John’s features were still twisted in confusion as he looked to The Marshal. “Is it possible you were correct?” he said. “De Quincy is behind all of this?”

  The Marshal nodded faintly. “I asked young de Lohr the same questions you have and these are the same answers I received.”

  That didn’t please John at all. This whole situation had turned markedly against him. But he was a sly, cunning man. He knew how to get answers. Something about Peter de Lohr’s appearance was just too coincidental for his taste, considering he was holding a woman who was accused of being his lover and spying for the rebellion – and, suddenly, Peter made an appearance.

  Nay, it was too coincidental.

  Either The Marshal was in on it or he was being bamboozled by a clever de Lohr son.

  He intended to find out.

  “Very well, young Peter. Let us speak on the horse. But since you have denied this woman as your lover, you will not mind if I take her for mine. She has a magnificent figure that will suit my appetites quite nicely.” He turned to his personal guard, men behind him. Men of greed and lust, horrific men who had an even worse reputation than the king. “Take her to my chamber and… prepare her. I will not stop you from tasting her, but leave enough of her so that I might have my fill, also.”

  It was a horrific thing to say. Given John’s reputation, there was no doubt that he meant what he said. He didn’t bluff. Peter’s resolve had been rock-solid until that moment and he heard himself shouting before he could stop himself.

  “Nay!”

  That brought everything in the chamber to a halt.

  The only sound was that of Liora, weeping, as John’s men yanked her out of the chair next to the king. They were pawing at her and she screamed, biting the hand of a man who had her by the arm. When he yelped and let go, she managed to wrench herself away from those pawing hands and raced to Peter, who wrapped her up in one big arm while yanking a nasty-looking dagger out from his waist.

  The message was clear.

  For a moment, no one spoke a word. The Marshal had moved away from Peter, realizing the entire charade was finished. He had to think fast to salvage the situation or all would be lost. Peter would be dead, the woman he loved would be a king’s mistress, and the situation would horribly deteriorate when Christopher found out.

  He’d told Peter that the man’s appearance had mucked up the situation.

  Now, it was positively a swamp.

  “Wait!” he shouted, holding up his hands as John’s guard began to unsheathe their weapons. “No swords, do you hear me? Put them away or we’ll have Hereford burning this place down around our ears. Do it!”

  He boomed it so loudly that the guards began to comply. No one disobeyed an order from William Marshal, not even John’s guards. The king hadn’t moved except to look at Peter with a smarmy expression on his face suggesting he finally had the answer he wanted.

  This was what he’d been hoping for.

  “So,” he said casually. “Mayhap you were incorrect in your reply to me, young Peter. Would you care to rephrase your stance on this young woman? I must have misunderstood you. I cannot imagine that you would lie to my face.”

  Peter was caught. He knew he was caught. Liora was in his arms, weeping softly, her soft and warm body clinging to him. She felt so good in his arms that it was a temptation to give in to the joy of it. To hold her – really hold her – was one of the most satisfying things he’d ever experienced. All he knew was that he was ready to fight to the death for her, even against the king’s highly trained guard.

  He was prepared to die.

  “You asked me if she was my lover, your grace, and she is not,” he said. “Not technically, at least not yet. She is the woman I intend to marry. When we marry, she most certainly will be my lover. She will be my everything.”

  John’s eyebrows lifted. “A de Lohr marry a Jew?” he scoffed. “What does your father say to this?”

  Peter wouldn’t take his eyes off the king or the men behind him, but he had to resist the urge to look at Liora. He wanted to look at her to reaffirm his commitment, his dedication, his attraction. All of those things. He wanted to see the look in her eyes when he told the king that, aye, a de Lohr would marry a Jew. They’d spoken of it. He’d declared his intentions to his father. But now, he was declaring it to the king in a very dicey situation. If he was indeed serious about it, now was the moment of truth.

  He wanted her to see his truth.

  “He says that he cannot live my life for me, your grace,” he said. “But he supports whatever decision I make.”

  John’s gaze lingered on him. “Then the jeweler’s daughter means a great deal to you.”

  “She does, your grace. I love her.”

  John snorted. “With her attractiveness, she could lure many a man to love her,” he said rudely. But he gestured to the dagger Peter still had lifted. He hadn’t sheathed it when The Marshal had ordered him to. “You realize that you will not leave here alive should you try to escape.”

  “Mayhap,” Peter said. “But I will not let you have her.”

  John stroked his chin, glancing at the men behind him, seeing guards that would kill and die for him. Men who were close to him, who always did his bidding. They were his mindless animals and there was something to be said for mindless animals, but something was missing among them.

  The Lord of the Shadows that he had lost.

  He missed Sean even though the man had betrayed him. Nine years of a strong relationship with a beast of a man who had done anything asked of him, and now, he was gone. Sean had brains and skill along with the talent that the rest of his simpleminded guards had. John surrounded himself with brute strength and that was why those men were present, but with Sean, he’d surrounded himself with a man who became a trusted advisor as well. De Lara had been from an excellent family, but he was no de Lohr.

  John wondered just how much it would weaken Christopher de Lohr should he remove Peter from his father’s stable.

  He fixed on Peter.

  “I can see that you mean it,” he said after a moment. “We do not need to have bloodshed if we can make a bargain. Lower the dagger and let us speak like reasonable men.”

  Peter hesitated a moment longer before putting the dagger back where it belonged. He didn’t dare glance at The Marshal, fearful that John might pick up on the fact that The Marshal was on Peter’s side. He’d already implicated himself in a deception, but he wanted to keep William perfectly safe and secure. However, he wanted to take it a step further.

  He had to make it clear.

  He looked at William fully in the face.

  “My lord, my apologies for lying to you about the horse,” he said. “Had you known I’d come here to free Liora, you would have never let me see the king.”

  The Marshal knew exactly what Peter was doing. Bless him, he thought. “You are forgiven,” he said, but he didn’t sound as if he meant it. “But now you must listen to what the king has to offer. If you do not, you will not leave here alive.”

  Peter nodded, returning his attention to the king as his grip on Liora tightened. She was no longer weeping,
but he could feel her trembling in his arms.

  “I am listening, your grace,” he said.

  John sat forward in his chair. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “I shall not become angry with you, but I want the truth.”

  “I will not lie to you, your grace.”

  “Did you really use the woman to gain information from her father? From me?”

  Peter shook his head. “I swear upon my mother’s grave that I never did, at any time,” he said. “You said yourself that the jeweler’s daughter is beautiful. Would I really want to speak of politics when looking at her? Not hardly. We only spoke of each other, of our families, and of our religions. That is God’s truth.”

  John nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Nay, I cannot imagine you would want to speak of men’s games when you are beholding her vision,” he said. “What’s all this nonsense about Agnes de Quincy? Were you betrothed to her and jilted her for the Jewess?”

  Again, Peter shook his head. “She wishes I was betrothed to her, your grace,” he said. “That is where this whole madness has come from. She wants to marry me and I want nothing to do with her.”

  “Ugly?”

  “Inside, aye. She is not a good person.”

  John pondered that, sitting back in his chair and scratching his head. “Then I am to assume you came here to free Haim’s daughter.”

  “I did, your grace.”

  “Just how did you intend to do that?”

  “I am truthfully not sure, but I had to come.”

  John thought about that. For several long moments, there was an apprehensive silence. Then, he turned to the men standing behind him and ordered them out. They filtered from the chamber, eyeing Peter threateningly, but he didn’t flinch. He watched them go as The Marshal went to the king, bending over and whispering something in his ear. John nodded, muttering something in return.