Chapter Three #2
Jago de Nantes didn’t possess the best reputation.
Underhanded and untrustworthy were things John knew of the man.
But he was wealthy, thanks to Richard, and he did hold some power.
John may have been siding with his brother as of late, behaving for the most part and lending Richard his allegiance, but it didn’t kill the determination in him.
It didn’t kill the need to rule, to control, and he could only do it with the support of men like Jago.
This was the opportunity John had hoped for.
“Then I shall speak to the ambitious man in you,” he finally said. “My brother is not here, as you’ve said. He prefers France. Me, on the other hand – I love England. This is my home.”
Jago held up his cup to the man. “England loves you also, my lord.”
John smiled thinly. “And you?”
“Of course, I love you, too.”
This is the moment John had been waiting for. Leaning forward on the arm of his carved oaken chair, he looked Jago in the eye as he asked the fateful question.
“How much?”
*
The Laughing Gravy Tavern
On Duchy Road, London
Lyssa was halfway through a huge cup of ale that tasted like straw. Or perhaps it was the wheat of the ale she tasted; she couldn’t be sure. And there was grit in it, like bits of chaff, and when she swallowed it, the liquid burned down her throat.
Several gulps of the stuff had been enough to give her a serious buzzing in her head and made her laugh at nearly everything, including the fools who were performing on the floor of a tavern Garret had taken her to.
The men were poking at each other, hitting each other with bladders blown up into balloons, and generally creating a ruckus that had the entire tavern roaring with laughter.
Garret sat on her right, into his second cup of the very strong ale, while another man sat on her left.
It was the second man she wasn’t entirely certain of, someone that Garret had summoned from the barracks at Westminster and who had acted as a chaperone of sorts as Garret had taken Lyssa north towards The Wix but ended up entering the city and heading to the seedier riverfront side of London.
These were the dirty roads and alleyways of the urchins of the city.
But it was also the side of London that had taverns lining the streets and traveling theaters; literally, wagons that would stop and men would perform a play before moving on to the next stop.
It was the beating heart of London where the hedonists lived.
It was a bright, bold world to Lyssa, something that should have shocked her proper senses but something she found inherently fascinating.
As she sipped her ale and giggled at the performers, she was also eyeing the man who was their chaperone.
He was dressed in robes and his hair was uncut, a silken dark mass flowing past his shoulders.
He wasn’t English; that was certain. Everything about him was dark.
Garret had introduced him as Zayin, a friend and colleague, but Lyssa had never seen such a man in her entire life.
He seemed quiet and respectful, but when he spoke, it was with a heavy accent she didn’t recognize.
Even as they sat at the table in the tavern, surrounded by drunkards and people having a wonderful time, Zayin simply sat and drank nothing more than boiled apple juice with bits of fruit in it.
He didn’t even laugh when the fools hit each other with their bladder balloons or threw buckets of ash on each other.
His stoic manner would have made Lyssa uncomfortable but for the fact that the strong ale seemed to ease her concerns.
In fact, she didn’t seem to care about much of anything with the drink running through her veins.
Garret had asked her to trust him, and trust she had.
She had to assume the man would not put her in harm’s way and this quiet, odd friend of his was nothing to fear.
Therefore, she continued to drink. She ate heartily when Garret ordered a meal to replace the one she had been denied at Westminster.
Lyssa delved in to the boiled beef and carrots, stuffing herself as a world of fun and entertainment went on around her.
She’d never experienced anything like it.
At one point, one of the fools began to run through the audience, bashing heads with his bladder balloon.
Lyssa was so enamored with the antics that she didn’t notice Garret as he cocked a disapproving eyebrow, ready to hold a hand up should the fool try to hit him or Lyssa.
Fortunately, the man didn’t come close. Instead, he ran off into the crowd and Garret returned to his drink.
But his attention was on Lyssa as she practically stood on her chair to watch the fools as they ran among the crowd.
“It seems to me as if you approve of the entertainment, my lady,” he said.
Lyssa grinned, realizing she was standing up and perhaps even making a spectacle of herself, so she sat down sheepishly. “I-I have never seen such a thing,” she said. “H-How do you know this place?”
“I have been here once or twice before.”
“T-Then you come here often?”
Before Garret could reply, Zayin answered. “My lady, he hardly leaves Westminster,” he said. “In fact, I cannot remember the last time we were away from the palace grounds, which is why I find it quite fascinating that we are away on this night of all nights.”
He meant with John’s grand soiree going on, but Lyssa didn’t quite catch his meaning.
With the drink in her, Lyssa was less guarded around the strange man and more interested in who, and what, he was.
She didn’t even notice Garret casting his friend a rather annoyed look at his comment.
All she could see was a very different man in front of her, more different than anything she’d ever seen.
“A-Are you a knight, too?” she asked Zayin.
Zayin shrugged. “In a sense,” he replied. “I am a great warrior. I have lived and breathed war, much as Sir Garret has.”
“W-Where are you from?”
“Damascus.”
Lyssa brow furrowed. “W-Where is that?”
Zayin smiled faintly at the woman’s curiosity. “Very far away, my lady. Very, very far.”
Lyssa sensed that he was somehow amused by her question. “I-Is it near France?”
“You know where France is?”
She nodded. “I-I was born there.”
“It is not near France. It takes many months to travel from Damascus to England.”
Lyssa pondered this faraway land, so far that it took months to reach it. “W-What is it like there?” she asked. “And why did you come to England if it is so far away?”
Zayin laughed softly. “I have often wondered that myself,” he said.
“But for a debt to Sir Garret, I would still be in my land. Because you have asked me, I shall tell you – it is a place of great warmth and great beauty. There are golden sands upon which rests green islands of trees, where the waters run cool and pure. It is the land where Christ walked.”
Lyssa was greatly interested in this marvelous place. “J-Jerusalem?”
He nodded. “It is nearer to Jerusalem, yes.”
Lyssa was quite fascinated by all of it. She looked at Garret, who was smiling at her over the rim of his cup. “I-I think that is wonderful,” she said. “D-Did you go to Damascus when you were on crusade with the king?”
Garret lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know I went on crusade?”
Lyssa grinned. “J-Juliana de Nerra told me,” she said. “S-She said that you were a great knight, even the greatest who has ever lived. S-She said you went on crusade with the king.”
Garret knew who Lady Juliana was, the sister of Gavin, a man who would quite possibly be looking for him by now.
He’d left the grounds of Westminster without telling a soul, mostly because he didn’t want anyone asking him any questions.
He didn’t want to have to explain that he was taking a detour escorting a lovely young lady home, but he’d brought Zayin to ensure nothing unseemly – or perceived unseemly – happened.
In truth, he’d only planned to spend an hour with the lady at the most, but they’d ended up across the river and enjoying entertainment in a rather seedy tavern.
And he was enjoying it immensely.
He wasn’t even sure why they’d ended up there, only that they had.
The woman had seemed so disappointed at missing out on a grand party that he’d wanted to show her a good time before taking her to The Wix for the night.
But, for propriety’s sake as well as the sake of his duties, he knew he needed to return her sooner rather than later.
He was loath to do it, but he knew he had to.
Besides… he knew he had to return her before the Colchester party returned from Westminster, if only to protect the lady’s reputation.
If what his brother said was true, she was already being watched enough.
Not that he blamed the men doing the watching.
“Lady Juliana is correct,” he said belatedly. “I am the greatest knight who has ever lived.”
He said it with such pomp that Lyssa burst out laughing. She looked at Zayin. “I-Is that true?”
Zayin nodded. “Next to me, he most certainly is.”
Garret rolled his eyes and downed the contents of his cup, setting the vessel back onto the table. “You have delusions of grandeur, my friend,” he said. “I shall, therefore, take a vote. My lady, you must decide – who is greater. Me or that foolish whelp of a man sitting next to you?”
As Lyssa giggled, Zayin defended himself. “I am descended from kings,” he said. “You, my lord, are not.”
“That does not make you great. In fact, it probably makes you pampered and silly.”
“Shall we go out to the street and let our weapons decide just how silly I am?”
They were jesting with each other, as egotistical men do, but Lyssa held up her hands.
“T-There will be no fighting on this night,” she insisted, looking between the two of them.
“I-I wish to remember this evening as one of the most wonderful times I have ever had. I-I would be very unhappy if it ended in bloodshed.”