The Agents of William Marshal Volume II: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  With that, he slipped from the door, out into the dark landing beyond. Christin went to the door, hearing his boot falls as he descended the stairs and headed out into the day beyond.

  With a smile playing on her lips, she closed her door and bolted it. She simply stood there for a moment, reliving the past several minutes, feeling as if her heart had wings. She never knew that she could be so completely and utterly happy, as if she were walking on clouds. It didn’t seem possible.

  But possible, it was.

  He loved her.

  Pushing her silly daydreams aside, she went on the hunt for her satchel.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Thank God he’d been able to break free.

  Sean was free and clear now that Monnington’s body had been cleaned up off the stones where he landed. As far as everyone was concerned, it was a terrible accident.

  Now, he was on the hunt.

  He had no idea where Christin was, but he needed to get to The Marshal or Christopher to tell them what was afoot. Unfortunately, that meant going to the encampment area where there were dozens of lords set up for a nice, long stay in honor of the king’s birthday celebration.

  Sean wasn’t so certain he wanted to head down there because there would literally be hundreds of witnesses to his presence in the de Lohr encampment and that wasn’t something he wanted to explain to the king should word get back to him. The same could be said for entering The Marshal’s encampment, so he realized as he came to the main gatehouse that led down into the baileys that he wouldn’t be able to go to them.

  They would have to come to him.

  But that didn’t stop him from heading out into the encampments, however. He was hoping to catch the eye of anyone – Maxton, Kress, Alexander, even his brother – anyone – and perhaps he could convey to them that he needed to speak. For all the witnesses to his presence would know, however, he was simply perusing those who had come to the celebration, information he would relay to the king. As long as he wasn’t seen specifically speaking with de Lohr or The Marshal, his behavior would be perfectly normal.

  The de Lohr and Marshal camps were right next to each other and the first person he happened to see was his good friend, Caius d’Avignon. Tall, black-haired Caius spied him almost immediately as he stood speaking to Maxton, who turned around casually to notice Sean standing back on the roadway that led to the gatehouse. When Sean tightened his gloves, or at least pretended to, and used his right hand to point discreetly to the keep, they realized it was a signal.

  Caius followed, leaving Maxton to inform The Marshal of Sean’s appearance.

  Sean wandered back inside the walls that enclosed the keep with Caius strolling casually several yards behind him. There were a few of the king’s soldiers lingering in this area, near the stairs that led into the keep, but he ignored them. He went around behind the chapel, watching as Caius entered the area.

  When Caius saw him back behind the chapel, he continued forward, winding his way among the outbuildings before doubling back and ending up behind the chapel where Sean was. Or, at least where he thought Sean was. When he didn’t see the man immediately, he grew frustrated and started to walk to the front of the chapel when a big hand shot out and grabbed him from the doorway at the rear of the chapel.

  Sean yanked him into the dark, empty church.

  “Jesus, Sean,” Caius grunted. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Knowing that was an impossible task, Sean fought off a grin. “I doubt that,” he said. “No one frightens The Britannia Viper and lives to tell the tale.”

  Caius looked at the man, smiling. “That is true,” he said, his gaze lingering on Sean a moment. “I am the very model of an unflappable man. It has been a long time, my friend.”

  “It has.”

  “I would ask how you have been, but I suspect that is not a fair question.”

  Sean shrugged. “I am well, if that is what you mean,” he said. “But doing what I do… it is every bit the hell you thought it would be, Cai. I would say that you should be glad you are not in my shoes, but there are days when I wish you were with all my heart.”

  Caius’ smile faded. “I know,” he said, feeling both guilt and sympathy. “Were it not for you, it would be me known as Lord of the Shadows. The Marshal offered the position to us both but you were the one who volunteered. I know it was to spare me the horrors of it, Sean. I’ve always known.”

  Sean sighed faintly. “It does not matter now,” he said. “It is my task and has been for years. But know that, physically, I am well. I have more money than I know what to do with, courtesy of the king, and he speaks of giving me a lordship, although that has not happened yet. I will emerge from this rich, if nothing else.”

  Caius grunted. “It is small compensation for serving the bastard.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I told Kevin what happened, you know,” Caius said. “I told him that I had an equal chance of becoming the Lord of the Shadows but that you volunteered before I could make my decision. It did not seem to matter to your brother at all. He is still quite angry at you.”

  Sean’s mood darkened. “I know,” he said. “I tried to speak with him yesterday but he does not want to see reason. He does not want to understand why I did what I did. He sees the hurt I have caused and that is all he sees.”

  Caius lifted his eyebrows in resignation. “He is a little brother who’s much-adored big brother has turned to the wicked side of politics, for all the world to see,” he said. “Kevin must grow up, Sean. When he does, he will understand.”

  “Possibly,” Sean said. “But I do not hold out hope. And I have little time, so I do not wish to waste it speaking of Kevin. There is a situation you must relay to The Marshal immediately. More than that, you must relay it to Christopher de Lohr.”

  “What about?”

  “John informed me yesterday that he wants Christin de Lohr to marry his son, Robert FitzRoy,” he said. “Because of this, a plan was put into action last night in that Christin behaved horribly at supper to discourage the king from having any ambitions on her. She did a magnificent job of presenting a wretched, ill-behaved woman, but it did not deter John. He and Gerard d’Athee have concocted a scheme to abduct Christin from Norwich and take her north to FitzRoy to be married.”

  Caius’ brow was furrowed with concern. “When?”

  “Today.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “To remove her from the postern gate and take her to the farm fields below. Less resistance than passing through four gatehouses if they take her from the keep.”

  Caius exhaled sharply. “Christ,” he muttered. “Where is Christin?”

  Sean shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I would assume in her chamber, which is in the apartment block to the east of this chapel, but I just saw Sherry heading down to the lower baileys.”

  “What does Sherry have to do with Christin?”

  “They are lovers.”

  Caius’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. “They are? I’d not heard.”

  “I believe they have been trying to keep quiet on the matter,” Sean said. “In any case, she is not with Sherry, but I shall try to locate her. Hopefully, she is in her chamber behind a locked door.”

  “If they are lovers, then Sherry will want to know about this, too.”

  “Indeed. And you must tell him after you tell The Marshal and Christopher.”

  Caius nodded, already moving for the door. “What will you do when you find Christin?”

  Sean was right behind him. “Hide her,” he said. “John cannot abduct what he cannot find, and it will give de Lohr a chance to get her out of Norwich.”

  Just as they reached the door, they both heard screaming.

  He’d told her to wait in her chamber, but restless, she couldn’t seem to do it.

  Dressed in a dark blue wool traveling dress with a matching cloak and her dark hair braided, Christin wanted to leave immediately. Her bag was packed just a fe
w minutes after Alexander had left her to go down to the stables. He’d told her to wait for him, but she was confident that it would be an easy walk to the stables to meet him there. There were gangs of men around, all going about their business, shielding her in case royal eyes happened to be watching.

  Certainly, nothing could happen with a crowd all around.

  She saw no reason to wait.

  Impatience got the better of her. So did nerves. She was afraid to stay in her chamber, knowing that was the obvious place to look should the king’s men come on the hunt. Somehow, she felt more vulnerable in her chamber. Or perhaps she felt vulnerable because she was without Alexander. When she was with him, she felt safe.

  It wasn’t the brightest decision to leave her chamber, but she did.

  She wanted to find Alexander.

  The encounter with him that afternoon had done something to her. She’d always been singularly focused, strangely so, on her tasks for William Marshal. As she’d told Alexander on more than one occasion, it made her feel as if she were part of something. As if she were making a difference as few women could claim, and that was still very true, but now… now, all she could seem to focus on was Alexander.

  She could see their children, strong sons with de Lohr and de Sherrington blood, lads that would grow up to be great knights and tributes to both their father and grandsire. For the first time in her life, she was thinking of marriage and children, not of missions for William Marshal.

  She was thinking of love.

  It was like a dream, all of it.

  Just as she was coming off the stairs, the entry door opened and Wynter stepped through. She looked at Christin in surprise.

  “There you are,” she said. “Where have you been? Lady de Winter has been asking about you.”

  Christin’s cheeks threatened to turn bright red then and there, but she fought it. “I… my father is here,” she said, walking that fine line between a lie and the truth. “I have not seen him in some time, you know.”

  The implication was that she’d been with her father and Wynter believed her. She had no reason not to.

  “I know,” Wynter said. “I would like to greet him, also. How is he faring these days?”

  “Fine. My Uncle David is here also.”

  “Lovely,” Wynter said, smiling. But her smile quickly faded. “Did you tell your father what happened last night? With the king, I mean?”

  Christin shook her head. “Nay,” she said truthfully. “It will greatly upset him. You know that he and John have never had a good relationship and I fear upsetting the entire celebration if I tell my father that the king invited me to sup.”

  “But you were brilliant in the way you handled him,” Wynter insisted. “You can tell your father what you did to discourage the king and he should have a good laugh over it.”

  Christin grinned. “We were brilliant, weren’t we?” she said. “You were astonishingly smart, Wynnie. For a moment there, I thought we were truly fighting.”

  Wynter laughed. “Are you sore this morning? My arse hurts a bit where I fell onto the floor.”

  Christin giggled, rubbing her bum. “A little,” she said. “But it was worth it. The king fled in disgust and that is exactly what we wanted.”

  “True,” Wynter said. Then, she pointed to Christin’s satchel. “Where are you going with that?”

  Christin looked at the bag. “I am going to the village, to the inn we discussed yesterday,” she said. “It is best that I stay out of the king’s way, at least until he departs Norwich. I do not want to give him the chance to change his mind and decide he wants to dine with me again.”

  “He would do so at his peril, but I think it is wise if you leave, too. Does your father know?”

  “I am going to find him right now and tell him.”

  Wynter hugged her. “Then Godspeed,” she said. “Be safe, Cissy. I will see you soon.”

  Christin headed for the door. “Remember,” she said. “You do not know where I have gone.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Even if they torture you and throw you in a fiery pit.”

  Wynter laughed. “I will let them roast me before I tell.”

  Christin blew her a kiss as she headed out the door, out into the bright day beyond.

  It was after the nooning meal and the sky was the most brilliant shade of blue. At least, Christin thought so. She stood there a moment, looking at the sky, wondering if it had always been that color. Somehow, everything looked brighter to her, lovelier than she’d ever seen it. That’s what Alexander had done for her – he made her see things through different eyes.

  Life was beautiful.

  She didn’t even realize she had a smile on her face as she stood there, looking at the sky. Then, her gaze moved towards the gatehouse with the bridge that led down into the lower baileys. There were guards there, men wearing the crimson and gold tunic of the king, but there were also guards with the de Winter standard. She was confident that she could walk past them all. Summoning her courage, she headed towards the gatehouse.

  But the king’s soldiers, who were lingering by the stairs that led into the keep more than they were actually by the gatehouse, suddenly turned in her direction. When she saw that they were walking towards her, and looking at her, she got panicky and she turned around, heading back to the apartment block.

  Unfortunately, there were royal soldiers there that she hadn’t seen before. She knew for a fact there was no one there as she’d just left the building because she’d looked around. She’d been aware of her surroundings.

  … hadn’t she?

  Or was she looking up at the sky, thinking of its beauty?

  Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened. Where were all of these royal guards coming from? They were roaming around Norwich as if they belonged here, but then she was sadly reminded that Norwich Castle was, indeed, a royal holding. The de Winters were the stewards. With the king here, the royal guards had every right to be about the property.

  She was beginning to sorely regret leaving the apartment.

  She wanted to go back inside, but the royal guards were near the entry now and she was afraid to move past them. When she turned around to try and go back towards the gatehouse, to the stables where Alexander was, the guards that had been near the keep entry were much closer now, heading right for her.

  She bolted.

  Racing towards the garden, she ran between buildings, trying to lose the guards who were following her. She thought that running off might pull them away from the entry to her apartment, so she dashed around the side of the building, running in a circle. But the moment she turned the corner that would give her a clear shot to the building entry, she ran straight into a big, warm body.

  He grabbed her and the fight was on.

  Christin may not have been a trained warrior, but she knew how to fight. She immediately lifted her knee, ramming it as hard as she could into the groin area but coming into contact with mail and other protection that prevented her from hitting her mark. The big man tightened his grip as she fought.

  “Easy, lady, easy,” he said. “No need to fight. It will not do any good.”

  Christin dropped her satchel so she could get to the dagger she always had tucked into a sheath on her leg. She was fearless as she grabbed for it, bringing it up into the man’s gut. It made contact because she heard him grunt, but as he loosened his grip, more hands grabbed her.

  Unable to escape, she started screaming at the top of her lungs.

  A hand slapped over her mouth and someone yanked the dagger from her grip. Kicking and twisting, she was fighting for her very life as a group of royal soldiers ganged up on her, surrounding her, but they weren’t stealing her away. They were mostly standing there, holding her as they looked at the man she’d stabbed.

  The man was down on one knee, his hand to his lower gut as bright red blood poured. The guards, holding on to a wildcat, were confused as to what to do.

  “
Where do we take her, d’Athee?” one of them demanded.

  Gerard was crippled with a fairly serious stab to the lower abdomen. He grunted in pain. “Find de Lara,” he rasped. “Find the man and…”

  “Get your hands off of her.”

  Sean was suddenly in their midst, grabbing Christin away from the soldiers who were smothering her. He pulled her into his grasp, slapping a trencher-sized hand over her mouth so she couldn’t make any noise.

  “What in the hell happened to you?” he asked Gerard.

  But Gerard was in too much pain to respond civilly. “That bitch stabbed me,” he said, groaning as he stood up. Suddenly, a big hand lashed out and caught Christin on the side of the head, hard enough to knock her cold. “That’s for goring me!”

  As Christin went limp, Sean picked her up. “Touch her again and you will answer to me,” he growled. “The king wants her to reach Robert in one piece, not damaged goods. Where are the horses you intended to take?”

  Gerard was nearly doubled over, trying to stanch the flow of blood in his side. “Down below,” he said. “At the farm gate. Get out from the postern gate and the path will take you right to them. I cannot ride like this, Sean. You must take her to Bishop’s Lynn.”

  Sean didn’t even question him. He was on the move with the soldiers in tow, all of them heading quickly to the postern gate. One of the soldiers opened the gate for Sean and he ducked through it, taking the slippery footpath down to the fields below where an abundance of neat rows of cultivated crops were being harvested in sections.

  The area was surrounded by a big wall, like the one that surrounded the castle, and the farmers paused to watch as an enormous knight and about ten soldiers escorted an unconscious lady down to a larger group of royal soldiers waiting at the gatehouse that protected the farming fields.

  Sean handed Christin over to another soldier as he mounted a horse meant for Gerard. The soldier returned Christin to him and Sean took a moment to cover her face up with the cloak she was wearing, at least as much as he could. He didn’t want it announced that Christin de Lohr was being whisked out of Norwich because he didn’t want a battle on his hands from anyone who recognized her. Battles resulted in injuries and he didn’t want to see her inadvertently hurt.