Chapter One #2
The knight who had spoken was referring to Prince John’s contingent of soldiers and mercenaries, men who had no business being on the grounds of Westminster but, because of John’s royal status and because this night was in honor of his wife, the prince’s men had been permitted to assist and coordinate the guests.
That decision had come down from Hubert Walter, Justiciar of England, and because he was in charge of the royal guard, including the elite knights, all of those sworn to the king had been compelled to obey.
Walter was a man of great power, loyal to Richard until the death, and the knights sworn to Richard followed his command without question.
But permitting John’s brute squad into Westminster against the royal guard was like putting dead and dry kindling next to an open flame; at any minute, something quite deadly could erupt.
“Take heart, Gavin.” Garret, in full regalia as Captain of the Royal Guard, fought off a grin at the ridiculousness of the situation they were facing.
“It is only for the night. We shall remain vigilant over John’s group of mercenaries and when the festivities start in earnest, we shall peruse the grounds and the hall to ensure those vermin behave themselves. ”
A broad-shouldered knight standing next to Garret looked at him. “Do you truly believe that they will?” he asked. “This is a group of thieves and cutthroats. We will be fortunate if they do not rob half of the nobles in attendance tonight.”
Garret cocked a dark eyebrow. “Which is why we shall peruse the grounds to ensure they do not find victims for their thievery,” he said.
“In fact, I shall do that now. Gavin, you and Forbes remain at the door. I want you to look over everyone who enters. Anyone with a weapon will be forced to leave it with you, and I do mean everyone. Too many knights with too many weapons in an event such as this is a recipe for disaster.”
Sir Gavin de Nerra and Sir Gart Forbes nodded sharply.
Gavin was the son of Sir Valor de Nerra, a man who had been quite close to Richard’s father, Henry, and the entire family of knights served the crown.
Next to him was Sir Gart Forbes, a hulking knight with a shaved head who had served Richard in The Levant as part of the de Lohr contingent.
Gart was a man of few words, preferring, instead, to let his sword do the talking.
Garret liked that particular trait in the strong young knight.
As Gavin and Gart headed over to man the main entry into the hall, Garret turned to the remaining two knights he had with him.
“Rhys, Knox,” he said to the pair. “I want you checking the posts. We have men stationed on the north and south sides of the hall; make sure they have support if needed. Check the posts regularly but return to the main entry to assist Gart and Gavin.”
Sir Rhys du Bois, an enormous warrior with brilliant blue eyes, spoke in a deep and measured voice. “I took the liberty of moving soldiers to the entry to the cloister,” he told Garret. “Simply to prevent John’s men from wandering where they should not be.”
Garret nodded. “That was wise,” he said. “I have them posted near the cathedral and, although the chances of John’s men wandering into the cloister are limited, it could still happen. Make sure you check those posts as well.”
Rhys nodded smartly, heading off with tall, muscular Sir Knox Penden at his side.
Penden was from the great Stewards of Rochester, an easy-going man but a fierce fighter.
Garret watched them go, pondering the placement of his men this night and hoping it would be enough to stave off any potential wanderings by the prince’s men.
John would protest, of course, but Garret wouldn’t have to deal with him.
That would be Hubert Walter, and John had a particular aversion to the man.
Anyone so loyal to his brother had John’s ire.
Turning away from his men, Garret began to head out to the great crowd of people who were gradually trickling in through the main entrance to Westminster.
At any given time, Garret had fifty high-caliber knights at his disposal but he kept de Nerra, Forbes, du Bois, and Penden close to him.
Those men were his generals, efficient and powerful knights who carried out his orders and made sure the household guard functioned smoothly.
All Garret had to do was utter a command or lift a finger, and the four of them were off to do his bidding.
They were young men, and hungry, eager to serve and eager to make a name for themselves.
As Garret headed to the main gate, he glanced up to the sky, noting that the sun was almost completely set now.
There were servants and royal soldiers running across the grounds of Westminster, going about their business, while a steady stream of visitors filed in at the gate.
And what a parade of visitors; Garret passed men in silks and finery and women in garments and jewels so heavy that they could barely walk.
Elaborate costumes seemed to be the theme on this night because it wasn’t often that a royal celebration was held and everyone wanted to look their best.
As he walked, he caught a heavy whiff of perfume, which also seemed to be the theme on this night.
The last time he smelled perfume this heavy, he’d been in a Turkish brothel.
God, it reeked to high heaven and he resisted the urge to sneeze as he made his way past the incoming guests, ignoring the eager looks from some of the women.
The looks he didn’t ignore were the looks from John’s men stationed at the gate.
They all knew who Garret de Moray was, as Captain of the Royal Guard, and he was a difficult man to miss.
He stood at least a head taller than even the tallest man, with shoulders that were so broad he had to turn sideways to enter certain doors.
And those eyes… like the blackest of nights.
Soulless eyes, David de Lohr had once called them.
They certainly weren’t soulless because Garret had a soul.
He also had a heart and a mind and, in fact, he was relatively happy these days.
He had a royal appointment he took pride in and he wielded a great deal of power at court.
Even Hubert Walter sought counsel from him.
He’d made sure to write to his father and tell him how great he was these days.
He hoped his father had told his older brother, who fancied himself a powerful knight as well as he served in the Duke of Colchester’s household in a very recent appointment.
But Sir Rickard de Moray was not as powerful as his younger brother was these days.
There was something smug in that knowledge to the younger brother.
In fact, Garret knew his brother would be around here at some point but he hadn’t seen him yet.
He knew the duke was in residence at his London townhome, a vast property known as The Wix.
It had been named for the original owner, a Saxon prince with the name of Darwixsham, but somehow over the years it had simply become “The Wix”.
It wasn’t far from Westminster, perhaps not even a mile, and the duke had been there almost a month.
Garret had seen his brother twice since then, but only briefly, and, in truth, he adored his older brother.
Rickard was loud, hilarious, and strong.
But Garret was louder and funnier and stronger.
At least, in his mind he was. There had always been a good-natured competition between them, something that became more pronounced the older they became.
Therefore, he was keeping his eye out for the Colchester standards when he reached the gate.
But there was also something more about finding Colchester than simply seeing his brother; as Garret had known since his days in The Levant that Jago de Nantes had been given the title of Duke of Colchester, which meant Rickard was serving Alfaar.
Being that Rickard was an upstanding and moral knight, Garret had no idea if his brother was happy in his new appointment.
He hadn’t seen his brother enough since he’d taken his new post to tell him what he knew of the man’s new liege, so Garret was hoping that tonight he’d have the opportunity to speak with his brother at length.
If Rickard wasn’t happy serving a rat, then perhaps Garret could convince him to come to the royal guard.
Serving his younger brother.
The thought made Garret grin to himself. Nothing would damage Rickard’s pride more than having to capitulate to his younger brother.
Wandering away from the main gate and passing a glare or two at John’s seedy men around the entry, he continued on along the crowds of people who were waiting to enter.
There were soldiers everywhere and knights.
In fact, off to his right, he could see a knight being rather rough with a lovely young woman, who seemed quite terrified.
As Garret watched, the man yanked on the girl and she dropped whatever she was carrying.
The men standing around weren’t trying to help the girl in the least. In fact, they were laughing at her fear.
Being that Garret took his oath to protect the weak seriously, he headed in that direction, reaching the pair just as the woman bit the man on the hand.
Seeing that the situation was about to deteriorate, Garret put himself between the terrified young woman and the knight.
“Find someone else to annoy,” he rumbled, his deep voice bubbling up from the very ground upon which he stood.
The knight with the teeth marks in his fingers glared at Garret. “This is none of your affair,” he said. “You have no right to interfere.”