“He works alone for the most part.”
“So do you.”
“I do.”
“But you say he was witness to this information? Where is he?”
Gart shook his head. “This, I cannot know, my lord,” he said. “We were together in Rome and then he left because someone in the Lateran Palace, a high-ranking priest, paid him a princely sum to eliminate an enemy. I’ve not seen him since.”
William pondered that for a moment before flicking his wrist at Gart. “It is of no consequence,” he said. “I believe what you have told me. I simply want to hear it again to make sure I understood correctly. A woman gave you this information, you say?”
Gart nodded. “A courtesan, my lord,” he said. “A woman who is a favored of one of the Holy Father’s advisors, a man by the name of Abramo. She told me that she had been warming the man’s bed for two years. Others confirmed this to me.”
“Others you trust?”
Forbes shrugged. “One was a papal knight,” he replied. “Another was an old man who was a servant of the body to Abramo.”
William looked at him, seriously. “I see,” he said. “And while in Rome, you entertained this courtesan?”
“I did.”
“How did you meet the other two men who confirmed who she was?”
Forbes started to look nervous again. “I wanted to see her before I left Rome to return to England,” he said, not wanting to admit he liked the woman because she was sexually clever and stimulating. “I went to the Lateran Palace where she said she lived to see if I could send a missive to her, to draw her out so that I could bid her farewell, and I was told by a papal guard that she was a favored of Abramo, a man close to the Holy Father. When the guard sent the missive inside the palace, the servant of the body returned to tell me that the woman belonged to Abramo and that I was forbidden further contact with her.”
William was listening carefully, moderately satisfied with Forbes’ explanation. “And it was of Abramo that the woman spoke.”
Forbes nodded, seemingly impressed or overwhelmed, or both, by the news he bore. “Indeed,” he replied. “She said the information regarding King Richard had come directly from Abramo.”
“And she was certain?”
“She was certain that Abramo was certain, and the man was certain enough to act upon the information.”
William sighed heavily, sitting back in his chair and gazing into the hypnotic flames. “So Richard Plantagenet had a liaison with a woman in Sicily when he wintered there ten years ago en route to The Levant,” he muttered. “And from that liaison, a son was born.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“A lad that Lothar has in his custody.”
William always referred to the pope by his birth name – Lothar of Segni. It was a sign of the animosity that William had long been part of, something that had eroded whatever inherent respect the position of the pontiff required. Especially in this situation, there was no respect – only the presence of an adversary.
A war was on the horizon.
“Aye, my lord,” Gart replied.
As the news sunk in, William rubbed wearily at his forehead. Even the second time around, the information still shocked him. “So now he has Richard’s son,” he muttered. “Worse yet, he plans to supplant John with Richard’s offspring?”
Gart nodded, watching William for any sign of what the man’s thoughts were on the matter. All he could see were veins throbbing on the man’s temples. “According to the woman, Abramo told her that assassins were being dispatched to England to kill John,” he said. “There is no love between John and Rome, my lord. If the church rids England of John and then lays claim to the throne with Richard’s son, then England ceases to become our country. It will become part of Rome.”
William already knew this. He shook his head, exasperated. “Already this plan is madness because the boy is Richard’s bastard,” he pointed out. “They cannot lay claim on behalf of the boy.”
Forbes sighed. “This I said, as well,” he said, somewhat sadly. “However, the woman told me that the Holy Father is prepared to swear that Richard married the boy’s mother, a minor noblewoman, prior to his marriage to Berengaria, and that the Holy Father personally performed the ceremony. The Holy Father intends to legitimize the boy’s claim.”
William looked at him, hints of horror crossing his weathered features. “Is this really true, Gart?” he asked, almost pleadingly. “This is truly what you were told?”
Forbes nodded. “I swear this is what the woman told me, my lord,” he said. “That is why I traveled in the dead of winter to reach you. This is something you must know. John, as much as we dislike the man, must be protected.”
William rolled his eyes, rubbing at his head more forcefully now. “Great Bleeding Christ,” he hissed. “John may be an undesirable king but at least his is the legitimate king and if there is to be any removing of the man, I would do it and not the fools in Rome. Do they really think they can get away with such a thing?”
Forbes shrugged. “It would seem that they intend to try,” he said. “My lord, I cannot swear to you that what this courtesan told me was true, but we cannot take the chance that it is. In any case, John must be protected against those who seek to supplant him. My information is over a year old and if the Holy Father has already sent assassins to England’s shores, then the king is in great danger. It is not simply a matter of protecting him; it is a matter of eliminating the assassins. Only when the threat is eliminated will the king, and the throne, be safe.”
William knew that. But he also knew something more. “As long as that boy is alive, John will never be safe,” he muttered. “It is the boy who must be eliminated as well, or at the very least, brought back to England and placed under protection so he can never again be a threat.”
Forbes nodded faintly. “There are knights who will do such a thing, my lord.”
“You?”
Gart shrugged. “I would be willing to go after the boy and bring him back to England,” he said. “With the connections I made in Rome, I am fairly certain I would be successful at getting my hands on him. As for the assassins trained on the king, however, you need men with a special set of skills for that task. Assassins are a different breed of men.”
William was well aware of that particular fact but he still pushed Forbes. “You are an excellent knight, Gart,” he said. “You have returned to England with this information so your loyalty is unquestionable. Therefore, you should be the one to protect the king. You are called Sach when you are in the heat of battle, a term for madness. Who better to kill the king’s assassins than someone like you?”
Forbes immediately shook his head. “I am at my finest in the chaos of a battle,” he said. “But what you need are men who are well-versed in espionage and silent death. I am not silent about anything, my lord. As I said, you need men with special skills. You need assassins to kill the assassins.”
William pondered that statement, which was true in any case. “Assassins to kill the assassins,” he repeated. He stopped trying to push Forbes into the duty. “I know many fine men who would be up to the task but I will have to give the matter some consideration. The right men for the right job.”
Forbes’ gaze lingered on William a moment, his dark green eyes reflecting the firelight. “I know men who would be perfect for the task,” he said quietly.
William glanced at him. “Who?” he asked. “Do I know them?”
Gart shrugged, returning his attention to the smoking hearth. “You might,” he said. “They are men who were with me in the Holy Land over the past few years, men I trust with my life. But these men… they are not ordinary knights, my lord. They think like barbarians, fight like savages, and move as silently as hawks. While fighting Saladin, they were used by the Christian commanders as a strike force, as assassins against their enemies, and these men never once failed. Their reputations were so perfect that even the Holy Father heard of them and summoned the men to
complete a task for him.”
William was interested. “Who are these men? Are they English?”
Forbes nodded. “Aye,” he said, eyeing William hesitantly a moment before continuing. “My lord, you may as well know the truth of the matter. When I came to tell you of the rumors of Richard’s bastard son and what the Holy Father intends to do with him, it was with these men in mind to prevent such a thing from happening. They are my friends, men I trust, and men who are currently in a great deal of trouble. They need your help.”
William’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Gart’s gaze grew intense. “I mean that the task the Holy Father summoned these men for was, in fact, the assassination of the English king,” he said. “The Holy Father assumed these men could get close to the king because they were English themselves. In any case, the Holy Father ordered them to comply and when they refused, he arrested them and sold them to his allies, the Lords of Baux, where they are now prisoners at Les Baux-de-Provence. I tried to find out what I could about the state of their captivity, or if they were executed, and I was able to pay a Capetian soldier for information that leads me to believe the Lords of Baux intend to ransom my friends to other allies as captive fighters. They are very valuable warriors and will command a great price.”
William was looking at Forbes rather strangely. “How did you discover all of this?”
Forbes lifted his eyebrows in a gesture that suggested the answer was complicated. “They are my friends,” he said, repeating what William already knew. “Much like me, they have been traveling the world since the fall of Acre, fighting wars and doing unpleasant deeds for the highest bidder. It is that reputation that attracted the attention of the Holy Father. After he approached them with this mission, they were given a nominal amount of time to consider the task. In fact, they discussed it with me.”
“But you advised against it, of course?”
Gart nodded. “I did, but they did not need much prodding,” he said. “However, when they refused the mission, the Holy Father had them arrested and the next I heard, they had been moved out of Rome. It was in my determination to find out what had become of them. I came upon the courtesan who told me the story of Richard’s bastard son and the plans to eliminate John and put the boy upon the throne. Then, and only then, did I realize the greater goal the Holy Father had in mind when he asked my friends to assassinate their king. I doubt my friends even knew the reasons behind the Holy Father’s request. Men such as them are often given a task without the reason behind it.”
It was a complex and convoluted story that only grew in depth and difficulty. Every time Gart opened his mouth, the story grew arms and legs and heads in all directions. It was truly astonishing. William, as seasoned and wise as he was, was still having difficulty comprehending it all but, as Gart spoke, the complexity began to form a pattern and the pieces began to fall into place. Things, as dark as they were, began to make sense. Aye, a great deal of sense and William was starting to see the situation, and the solution, just as Forbes was.
“And you have come to me to ask me to ransom your friends’ freedom?” he asked.
Forbes nodded, sighing, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I have, my lord,” he said, relieved that William understood the point he was making. “They would be perfect for the task of eliminating John’s assassins, whoever might come on behalf of the Holy Father. There was a name for these men among the Christian armies.”
“What name is that?”
“The Unholy Trinity. Men known as the Executioner Knights.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “A seemingly ominous moniker.”
“They would make the perfect weapon.”
William drew in a long, thoughtful breath, peppered by bouts of coughing. When the weather turned cold as it was, he often suffered issues with his lungs. Winters made him ill. He patted his chest to loosen the phlegm.
“Mayhap,” he said, “but how long have they been prisoners?”
“At least nine months.”
William sighed heavily. “Nine months in the vaults of Les Baux-de-Provence,” he muttered. “I cannot imagine the hell of it. And even if they are still alive, the Lords of Baux may refuse my offer of ransom. We are not exactly allies.”
“If you offer enough money, they will not refuse.”
William cast him a sidelong glance. “How much money do you speak of?”
Forbes pretended to think on the matter but the truth was that he had already arrived at a sum and a plan. He had an idea in mind. “The knights I speak of are Maxton of Loxbeare, Kress de Rhydian, and Achilles de Dere,” he said. “The family of Loxbeare are major landholders in Devon and the House of de Rhydian controls much of the lands near Manchester. De Dere has rich holdings in York. The point is that I am quite sure they would be willing to pay for their sons’ return and you would not be out any money in the matter.”
The light of recognition went on in William’s eyes. “I know Hugh de Rhydian and Magnus of Loxbeare,” he said. “They are both friends and allies. Their sons, you say?”
“Aye.”
William turned towards the half-open solar door and called for his manservant, a valet who did everything from dress the man to write his missives. William could write, and do it well, but his joints ached when it was cold and made writing difficult. As the servant scuffled in, he motioned the man towards his large, cluttered desk.
“We have missives to send,” he told them servant, a sense of urgency in his voice. Then, he turned to Gart. “It will take time to send the missives and receive a reply. If papal assassins are already in England, then it may be too late.”
Forbes’ angular face was serious. “It is possible,” he said. “The last I saw my friends was close to a year ago. I then spent two months in Rome searching for them and then I traveled home to inform you of the news. There has been time for the Holy Father to hire more men to do the job.”
William digested the information before moving swiftly into action. He could no longer linger on surprise or dismay, and he wasn’t a man who was prone to inaction. His entire life was proof of that. Under his expert guidance, missives were soon being sent to Hugh de Rhydian and Magnus of Loxbeare, and both William and Forbes were heading to Winchester Castle where the king was in winter residence. The time for talk was over.
It was time to take action.
Regardless of how William felt about John personally, it was imperative that the man know of, and understand, the threat against him. But there was someone else who needed to know, someone more powerful than even John. William sent Forbes to personally deliver the news to Eleanor of Aquitaine who, upon receiving the information of the papal plot against her son, donated money to the ransom cause.
Eleanor did not want to lose yet another son and with hope presented, she would do what she could to preserve John’s rule. The Marshal had a plan for John’s survival and Eleanor was more than eager to support it. Eleanor even sent men to ride to the Lords of Baux, led by Gart Forbes himself, to deliver the ransom. Both she and William had decided that it would be much better to send the ransom under her banner because, as so many knew, she and John were always in contention with each other and Eleanor was far more French than she was English. Therefore, her banners were more suitable when dealing with the Lords of Baux.
Seven weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after Forbes delivered the information on that cold and snowy night to William Marshal, Gart Forbes and a gathering of armed men bearing the standards of Eleanor of Aquitaine arrived at Les Baux-de-Provence with a chest of gold and silver marks and a request from Eleanor to deliver the three English knights in the fortress vaults to her custody.
The Great Lord of Baux, a greedy man named Estienne, happily agreed at the sight of so much coinage. His purpose had been to ransom the knights off, anyway, and if la subvention Anglais reine wanted to pay handsomely for these men, then Estienne would oblige her. The deal was struck and the three dirty, beaten, and w
eakened knights were purged from his vaults after months of captivity.
In truth, it had been a slick operation and one that Gart had been quite proud of. Finally, his friends had been released and were very quickly heading back to England, fearful that the Lords of Baux would change their minds. They rode very hard for weeks, in nasty weather and constant storms, only to take an old cog from Calais on one of the very few clear days they’d seen in all that time, a cog that headed straight for the white cliffs of Dover.
To the three English knights who never believed they’d ever see the light of day again, it was a beautiful sight. But their duties, as explained to them by Forbes over the course of their travels, somewhat dampened that joy. They hadn’t simply been ransomed; they’d been ransomed with a purpose, a purpose that would be revealed when they met with William Marshal.
However, Gart had hinted at something ominous behind The Marshal’s meeting, leaving the three knights wondering if remaining in the vaults of Baux would have been preferable. Gart wouldn’t give forth any further information and in the weeks leading up to The Marshal’s meeting, Maxton and Kress and Achilles were feeling some trepidation.
With good reason.
Little did they know that the fate of a country would soon been placed in their hands.
The Executioner Knights would become England’s only salvation.
CHAPTER ONE
London
Convent dedicated to St. Blitha of the Order of St. Dominica
North of the city walls, near Bishopsgate
Almost Three Months later
The walls of the old convent were ancient, hundreds of years old at the very least, and emitted an odor that smelled much like time itself, something like dirt and mold and stagnant water. It was an odd scent, one that inevitably created a mood of both religious piety and the inherent doom.
This must be what sin smells like.
That was what the man thought as he stood just inside the door of the old convent, his eyes adjusting to the weak light. There was no furniture, a dirt floor, and the ceiling was low to accommodate the short nuns who inhabited the place.
Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 67
