by Merry Farmer
“What do you mean?”
He smirked at her with leonine grace. “Don’t tell me you can’t see the way every man in the castle looks at you, my lady.” The room went hot. When she didn’t reply he continued. “Why the looks your husband alone gives you would make the Queen purple with jealousy.”
Aubrey raised an eyebrow, trying to stay just as cool as he was. “And what do you know about it?” It was a clumsy attempt to get him to reveal something, but all of her smooth attempts had been complete failures.
“I can see that your husband values you more than any worldly possession,” Pennington turned the conversation right back on her.
“Really? What makes you think that?”
He moved a bishop to a point threatening her queen. “You are beautiful, you are intelligent, and, I suspect, you have talents that I have not yet seen.”
“Such as?”
Pennington laughed. “I would not dare to presume.” His eyes raked her. Her face went red. “Just don’t let Buxton see how devoted your husband is to you.”
Her skin crawled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
They both knew that she did. She concentrated on the chess board so she wouldn’t have to see where his eyes wandered. “And then there is the problem with Derbywood.”
Like the pieces on the board, Aubrey felt as though she was being pushed into an undefended position. She moved her queen out of the danger she had been put in with a shrug. “Forests are a good place to hide,” she deliberately misunderstood him. “Are there forests near London?”
“London is a hot, miserable, smelly city.”
His evasiveness was driving her crazy. She went out on a limb as she studied the chess board, eyes turned down under long dark lashes. “Are you married, sir?”
He laughed and moved a pawn into the path of her attack. “Alas, my duty is not one that lends itself to marriage.” Aubrey tried not to scream in irritation. He was teasing her now and she couldn’t figure out how to get away from it. “But I will remember that you asked.” He arched his eyebrow and smoothed his oily moustache.
She grinned back, although inwardly she crawled with disgust. “I suppose being a servant of the crown is very time consuming. Do you travel a lot?”
He nodded to her and his overly warm expression did not change. “Incessantly.”
She felt as if she were on the edge of a discovery and on the edge of a very deep hole she had dug herself. “Have you met Prince John before?” she asked, taking one of his pawns with her knight.
“Of course,” he shrugged.
She raised her eyebrows. If Pennington already knew Prince John, then why did he need to come all the way to Derby to discuss peace? “I have never met him.” She feigned the same expectation she had heard from the mass of noblewomen loitering around the castle. “What’s he like?”
Pennington took his time in answering. “He is a man of great ambition,” he answered. He picked up his queen and moved her all the way across the board, taking the pawn in front of her king. “Checkmate,” he said with a solemn nod. Aubrey sighed, kicking herself that she hadn’t seen his sneak attack before. “Tell me, Lady Huntingdon, have you ever played a game of human chess?”
Still stared at the board trying to figure out where she had gone wrong before hearing him. “Human chess?” Something about the idea didn’t sit well with her. “No, I don’t believe I have.”
“It is more or less the same game we play at this table, only the board is laid out in a courtyard or great hall and the pieces are people.”
She kept her face relaxed and interested in spite of her suspicion. “How does it work when a piece is taken?”
“The men playing the pieces fight. The winner takes the square.”
“What, regardless of the actual rules of chess? Wouldn’t that be an extravagant danger to the men playing?”
“The rules of combat supplant the rules of the game.” He spread his hands with their many rings wide. “It is quite intriguing to watch.” Barbaric was more like it, Aubrey found herself thinking. He seemed to see her thoughts. “They do not fight with real weapons, Lady Huntingdon, but with practice lathes and padded clubs. No one is hurt.” He shrugged. “Unless that is the point of a particular game.”
“I see.” She smiled. “It sounds fascinating.”
He shifted forward in his chair. “You are a skilled player, Lady Huntingdon.” He leered at her. “I propose that you and I put together an entertainment for Prince John.”
“A human chess match?” Her heart beat faster at all of the possibilities for disaster a game like that could present. And yet it would give her a chance to interact with him more, to get to the bottom of who he was. Now more than ever she sensed that he was no man of peace.
“Yes, why not? It is an entertainment enjoyed by all the crowns of Europe. It’s quite the fashion in London these days. You assemble your team and I will assemble mine and we will present the activity after the negotiations have been conducted. It will be a fitting way to end the parlay: a final, symbolic battle to represent the end of hostilities in England.”
“You can’t really hope to solve a barely concealed war of succession all the way up here in Derby,” she dared, hoping she could get what she needed and not have to spend another second in his company.
He smiled. “One can always hope, Lady Huntingdon.”
His words were pretty indeed, but there was something about Pennington that made Aubrey think of danger and violence. He was polite, learned, and well-mannered, if salacious, but something lurked under the oily surface. “I have an unfair advantage.” She sat in her chair as though she were comfortable.
“Which is?”
“I am familiar with the people here in Derby. I would have a better idea of who to choose to be on my team. I would beat you.” She tried to decide if putting together a human chess game would keep Buxton happy and help Crispin to figure out what was going on.
“I have brought a few of my own men with me.” He waved off her concern. “And I am sure Alfie would lend me some of his.”
And where that would lead Aubrey had no idea. “Alright. I accept your challenge.”
“I am pleased to hear it.” He nodded, the smooth grin still on his face. “And now, would you like to play this lowly table game again?”
Crispin stormed through the city of Derby in a cold, driving rain, his cloak pulled tight around his neck to keep chilly rivulets of water from dribbling down his back and annoying him more than he already was. Aubrey was with Pennington, playing chess. It took every ounce of his strength not to charge up to the castle to rescue his beautiful, bright, and bull-headed wife from whatever machinations were entangling them both. She really was his wife now, in every way, and the animal instinct to protect and to kill for her raged hotter than ever in his gut.
He threw his focus into work in an attempt to sidestep it. The rain had washed out two days of the faire now, including the joust. The city was writhing with restless people hoping for a peek of sun. The sun was not obliging, so the city was ready to burst. The only bright spot in the entire wretched mess was the messenger who had arrived late last night with word that the prince had paused his journey in Leicester rather than slog through the rain. It was one less irritation to deal with and one less distraction from Buxton’s deadly game at the castle.
Lights were on and talking and laughter spilled out of houses, but the streets themselves were abandoned. When he turned the corner along the thoroughfare that cut in front of the city wall he stopped at the sight of two figures huddled together near the gate. They each wore sodden cloaks that hung heavy around their legs. He would have ignored the sight, but one man wore a patched and tattered cloak and the showed only one leg and a crutch below the hem of the fine cloak. Crispin stopped where he was and watched. Aubrey hadn’t told him that her brother was in town.
Geoffrey and the man in the patched cloak were deep in discussion, almost arguing. Crispin narrowed his
eyes and tried to see past the hood of the patched cloak. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. When Geoffrey stepped back and reached into his cloak Crispin caught a glimpse of wide, worried brown eyes in a pale face, eyes like Aubrey’s maid Joanna. Crispin’s scowl darkened. Geoffrey presented a small square of parchment and pressed it on Toby. He snatched it away and stuffed it under the folds of his cloak before turning to go.
Before Geoffrey could turn around and see him Crispin darted to the nearest side street. He paused as soon as he was out of sight, turning to stare up at the castle as he weighed his options. His drive to protect Aubrey extended to protecting her from her brother if Geoffrey was in league with Derbywood. But if any harm came to him she would be devastated. He turned and marched on towards the main street, head down, lost in thought.
Geoffrey was less than five yards from him when their paths crossed. He glanced up and met the guilty man’s eyes. “Morley.”
“Huntingdon.” Geoffrey had the nervous pallor of a man pretending he hadn’t just been caught.
“You should be up at the castle, not out in weather like this.” It was as neutral a statement as he could come up with. Geoffrey deserved a chance to defend himself.
“I’m not staying at the castle.” He continued to hobble up the muddy road.
“Where are you staying then?” Crispin followed him. “I’m sure Aubrey will want to visit. She hasn’t seen you in months.”
“She doesn’t need her crippled brother when she’s got you.” He didn’t look at him as he muttered the bitter accusation. When Crispin met the comment with frosty silence he sighed and added, “I’m staying at an inn. The castle is too crowded.”
“You haven’t seen her for months and now that she’s around the corner you put her off?” He stopped Geoffrey with a hand clamped on his shoulder. “What are you up to, Morley?”
Geoffrey glared at him and shrugged the hand off, fighting to maintain his balance. “Nothing.” Geoffrey struggled to pick up his pace and get away. Crispin stood where he was and let him go. His stomach twisted at the mountain of problems he already faced and his brother-in-law had all but confirmed another. Ethan was planning something. He turned and rushed on towards the castle.
Crispin found Jack in the armory as expected, getting his daily sword lesson from the master-at-arms. He had been adamant that Jack learn to defend himself like a noble instead of in the scrappy peasant style he had put together from God only knew where. Although the things the man could do with daggers awed even the master-at-arms. Crispin had ambitions for Jack that went beyond running errands. He had been trying to teach Jack to read and write as well, but those lessons were torture for the man whereas he had a natural aptitude for the sword. For some reason Jack had adopted the unconventional use of two short-swords instead of one regular sword. Crispin watched him spin the two swords in a fluid dance for only a few moments before catching Jack’s eye but he had seen enough to be impressed.
When Jack noticed him he stopped his lesson with a quick nod to his teacher. He wiped his sweaty face on the back of his shirt, crucifix from the rosary he constantly wore dangling, and jogged to meet him. “Yeah?”
Crispin nodded to a quiet corner of the room, far from the ears of the other men training. “I just caught Morley giving a letter to Windale’s man Toby.”
Jack shifted on his spot, still panting from his exercise. “Why would Geoffrey send a letter to Ethan?”
Crispin shook his head. “I don’t know. But if they’re working together….” He didn’t finish his sentence.
Jack exhaled and frowned at the floor, flexing his hands around the two swords he still held. He glanced up to Crispin with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Want me to find my brother and ask him?” Crispin nodded. He was aware of the thread of regret that traced through Jack’s expression. “I don’t know if he’ll talk to me, mate.”
“Are you willing to try?”
After a pause Jack nodded. “Yeah.”
A second thought entered Crispin’s mind. “When you’ve finished with them I want you to ride on towards Leicester to see if you can intercept Prince John’s caravan.” Jack glanced up to him in surprise. “I want you to offer to escort them through the forest. Keep an eye out for anything Windale might try. And see if you can find out why they’re really coming to Derby.”
“Right.” Jack nodded, gray eyes flashing with purpose.
Crispin nodded and left his friend to his mission. He pulled the hood of his cloak back up over his head as he stepped out into the driving rain again. Once out of the armory he stared up at the castle. Which room was Aubrey in? He marched on through the courtyard toward the guard tower at the gate. He had to trust that Aubrey knew what she was doing. If she could outsmart him as the Bandit for so long she had a chance of outsmarting Pennington. He just didn’t want to be around to see it.
The rain was beginning to lighten as he climbed the stairs to the top of the guard tower and looked out over the city and surrounding countryside. Several small groups of people trudged towards and away from the city in the rain. It was impossible to tell if any of the distant travelers was Toby.
Frustration curled Crispin’s gut. He waited and watched from the guard tower long enough to catch a glimpse of Jack riding out to the forest. At least some sort of action was being taken. Another small retinue of nobles was arriving at the castle gate below. With a sigh he started down the stairs. He would have given anything to be back at Windale with Aubrey, quiet, peaceful.
The nobleman and his three servants had just reached the gate by the time he descended. The castle steward greeted them and directed the stable hands to take their horses. The lord was a handsome man with a rich, fur-lined cloak and a shrewd face. He had a no nonsense air about him that said he knew who he was, what he was doing, and where everyone else stood in relationship to him. He obviously wasn’t one of Buxton’s cronies. Crispin pushed the hood back from his cloak and went to greet him.
“Welcome to Derby.” He nodded in respect as the man dismounted and slicked back his rain-soaked hair. “I am Sir Crispin of Huntingdon, Lord of Windale. And you are?”
The man hesitated, returned the nod with the deference of a man above Crispin’s station, and answered, “A friend of Lord Alfred’s.”
Wary disappointment flooded him. “Forgive me sir, but is he expecting you? The castle is overcrowded at the moment.”
“Oh yes, I am expected,” he replied. “Will you take me to him?”
Crispin hesitated. He had been avoiding Buxton for days to keep himself from killing the man with his bare hands. He wasn’t sure where Buxton was at the moment. Probably holding court with the hoard of nobles who had come to goggle at the prince and flatter him in the process.
“Right this way.” He held out a hand and lead the lord towards the castle. “Did you have a safe and pleasant journey?” he asked, hoping to get an idea of whether Ethan had already started whatever plan he was hatching.
“It was smooth, all things considered.” He shot the man a questioning look. “I have been hearing all manner of stories from Derby about this dispossessed noble who has taken to the forest like a common highwayman. I was expecting to meet him along the way.”
“Rumors only,” Crispin gave the explanation Buxton had ordered them to give.
“You obviously don’t believe that.” The lord grinned at him.
He returned the grin, unable to help himself. The man was charismatic to the point of inviting instant confidence. “I have taken every precaution possible to ensure that the forest is monitored and the town is fortified.”
“You have taken precaution?”
“Yes, my lord,” Crispin answered, not wanting to get into the discussion with a stranger. “On behalf of Buxton. I am his bailiff. I can assure you, if Ethan of Derbywood does decide to cause mischief I will deal with it personally … and permanently.” He couldn’t hide the fury that seeped into his voice
“You care that much about protecting th
e prince?” the noble asked, eyes calculating.
He was suddenly suspicious of the man beside him. “Yes, my lord.” He watched the noble’s eyes to see if he had played his cards right or made an enemy.
They turned a corner to find Aubrey rushing along the hall towards them. She wore a worried frown and stared at the floor. Her sword was strapped to her waist and he caught a glimpse of the wolf head of his dagger at the top of her boot through the slit in her skirt. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She glanced up when she realized she was not alone in the hall and her face relaxed into a smile when she saw him.
“I was on my way to find you.” She reached for him when they met in the middle of the hall.
“Why? Is something the matter?” He forgot that they were not alone and took her into his arms.
She squeezed him then took a step back. “I’m not sure. I’ve…. Now don’t be angry or get worried.”
His already agitated heart dropped into his roiling stomach. “Aubrey?”
“Pennington has challenged me to a game of chess. Human chess. And I’ve accepted.”
The lord laughed, a delighted smile on his face. “Human chess. Good sport!”
Aubrey widened her eyes and turned to the strange lord. Crispin wasn’t sure if she would embrace him or give him a tongue lashing. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” She smiled, glancing to Crispin for answers.
“This is my wife, Aubrey, Lady Huntingdon,” Crispin introduced her to the lord. “This … is a friend of Buxton’s.”
The lord took her hand and kissed it. “John, my lady, at your service.”
“Thank you, John.” Aubrey curtsied. Her smile brightened to genuine welcoming. It relaxed Crispin. “And it seems as though I am the only one who doesn’t know how popular human chess is.”
“It’s quite the thing at the moment.” John smiled at her. “And you have been challenged? How interesting.”
