Chapter Eleven
Westminster Palace
“It is de Lohr,” Gart said.
Rhys, who had been sitting on a stool in Garret’s solar, looked up from the blade he was sharpening.
“De Lohr?” he repeated, mildly surprised. “Which one?”
Gart pointed out of the window he was standing next to, indicating the dusty bailey beyond. “Chris,” he said. “He is flying the blue and gold de Lohr standards from Lioncross Abbey Castle.”
It was the dawn of another warm day in London, the same rising temperature and rising humidity from the river filling the air.
Gart and Rhys were in Garret’s private solar, waiting for Garret and the other knights to make their usual morning appearance, when the portcullis of Westminster’s South Gate had lifted and a rather large contingent of men had poured into the bailey.
Rhys stood next to Gart now, watching the de Lohr party swarm into the yard.
“I do not know where Garret is, but we should go and greet Chris,” Rhys said, setting his blade aside as he headed for the door. “I did not hear that he was approaching Westminster. Did you?”
Gart shook his head as he followed the man to the door. “Nay,” he replied. “But with Richard’s wars in France, you know that de Lohr would mobilize. Possibly he is here to collect more men?”
Rhys shrugged his big shoulders. “It is possible,” he said, opening the door. A cloud of dust blew in from the arrival of the army outside. “I wonder if we are to expect David as well.”
There were many questions but few answers as Gart and Rhys entered the midst of the arriving army.
The de Lohr brothers were always at the heart of anything Richard did, so in truth, this appearance wasn’t unexpected.
There were at least a thousand men, five big provisions wagons, baggage and armory wagons, and more.
It was quite a gathering, and Gart and Rhys could see the sergeants whipping the de Lohr ranks into an orderly collection, moving them out of the main part of the bailey to keep the way clear.
There was something about an army like this that fed the inner warrior in the knights.
Armies meant battle, and that was what these men were bred for, only these days they didn’t see much action serving at Westminster.
In fact, it was a rather easy appointment as far as appointments went, so to be in the midst of men that were preparing to move out for battle was something they drew strength from.
The sight of armed soldiers, the smell of the horses, the noise of the crowd…
Gart and Rhys found themselves wishing they were going, too.
There was disappointment in knowing they were not.
As they continued their hunt for de Lohr, someone came up behind Rhys and grabbed him by the arm.
With his right fist balled and cocked, preparing to slug whoever it was squarely in the face, Rhys was greeted by the great grinning face of Sir Max de Velt.
A big man with flowing dark hair and a muscular build, Max had served Christopher for several years as one of his premier knights.
In fact, he’d had an identical twin brother, Anthony, who had also served de Lohr but had been killed a few years before.
Men who knew the de Velt twins thought it would be impossible for Max to survive without Anthony, but he’d done very well for himself with strength he never knew he had.
He was a good man, an excellent knight, and a loyal friend.
Rhys returned the man’s grin, shaking his head as he lowered his fist.
“You very nearly had your head taken off, old man,” he said.
Max laughed. “By who? You? The day you can catch me with one of those man-sized fists is the day I surrender my sword.”
“That day was almost today. But it is good to see you nonetheless.”
By this time, Gart had heard the commotion and now stood next to Rhys, eyeing a man he considered a friend. “Max,” he greeted fondly. “What in the hell is going on? Why is the de Lohr army here?”
Max reached out, slapping Gart on the cheek affectionately. “It is good to see you, too, Forbes,” he said. “Where is Garret?”
Rhys and Gart shook their heads. “We have not yet seen him this morning,” Rhys said, “but with the arrival of Chris’ army, I have no doubt he will be here. Where is Chris?”
Max was pointing off to his left, near a host of wagons. “Over there the last I saw of him,” he said. “He will make his way in this direction, I am certain. He’s not yet broken his fast, so I suggest you have food waiting for him in Garret’s solar.”
Rhys was already on the move, going to hunt down servants to bring food to de Moray’s solar. Gart, meanwhile, remained with Max.
“Why all the men, Max?” he asked seriously. “Where are you going?”
Max pulled off his three-point helm, of the latest design.
“France,” he said as he raked his fingers over his scalp.
“Christopher is picking up more men in London, more de Winter men in fact, and then he has transportation arranged to take us to Dieppe, and from Dieppe we shall travel on to Rouen where we will rendezvous with Richard.”
Gart looked around at the hundreds and hundreds of well-armed de Lohr soldiers. “So de Lohr has answered Richard’s call.” He confirmed his suspicions. “I thought so.”
Max nodded. “Indeed, he has,” he said. “I have no idea how long we shall be in Normandy and Lady de Lohr was none too happy about Chris going, so I have a feeling we will not be gone too long. Chris would not risk angering his wife like that.”
Gart smirked; they all knew how Christopher’s wife was the one who ruled the family. He put his hand on Max’s shoulder.
“Come to Garret’s private solar,” he said. “There should be food and wine there. Penden and de Nerra should like to see you, also.”
Max was eager to get inside, out of the heat and humidity, and away from the thousand men and dust and animals.
As he and Gart headed towards the solar, they spied Garret coming from the direction of the great hall.
Gart lifted a hand to him to indicate Max and Max waved to the man.
Catching sight of the pair, Garret headed in their direction.
“Excellent to see you again, Garret.” Max extended a hand to Garret, who shook it warmly. Then, he frowned. “But you have the look of a troubled man this morning.”
Garret’s brow was furrowed, his expression serious.
“Is it that obvious?” he asked, glancing at Gart as he spoke.
“We have about twenty men from the night watch down with some kind of poisoning. They ate pork last night that was evidently rotten and the physic says they are seriously ill. I just came from the barracks where they are recovering, but that means we must reposition our posts for the night. I already have Gavin and Knox working on the issue.”
Gart lifted an eyebrow to twenty soldiers down with illness. “How can I be of assistance?”
Garret threw his thumb in the general direction of South Gate.
“Gavin was supposed to have the day watch on South Gate this morning but he will not be able to,” he said.
“Gart, find one of the other knights and put him in command of the South Gate. Also find someone to take your post at White Hall. I have a feeling I will need you with me today.”
Gart nodded. “The knights for the day watch are breaking their fast in the barracks,” he said. “I will send word to them.”
“Do it quickly. Where is Rhys?”
“He is in your solar, I believe, procuring food for the Earl of Worcester, who has just arrived. I have not yet located the man, but mayhap you should like to find him and welcome him.”
Garret nodded, his gaze moving out over the sea of de Lohr men. “I will,” he said, “but what in the hell are you doing here, Max?”
Max turned to glance at the army as well. “Heeding Richard’s call to France,” he said. “I am sure Chris will tell you more about it.”
Garret waved the men on as he headed off to find the Earl of Worcester.
They were all quite informal with each other in private because they’d all fought together for many years, including in The Levant, long before Christopher was a man of standing.
In public, they treated him with the greatest respect, but in private, he was still Chris, still their comrade and friend.
Garret treasured those relationships, men he could count on when the entire world seem to fail.
Seeing his friends again like this was food to his soul.
In his hunt for Christopher, he came across Zayin speaking with another de Lohr knight. When the knight turned to face Garret, he realized he was looking at yet another old friend.
“Dud,” he muttered, a grin on his lips. “Thomas Dudley. I’ve not seen you in quite some time.”
Sir Thomas Dudley, a man whose friends called him “Dud”, broke into a grin at the sight of Garret. He was a younger knight with faded green eyes, strong and obedient, and he’d served under Christopher in The Levant. But he and Garret had known one another, well. His expression was full of warmth.
“’Tis good to see you, Garret,” he said. “How is life in London these days?”
Garret shrugged. “Well enough,” he said. “I manage to keep myself occupied, at any rate. Where’s Chris?”
Dudley pointed off towards the great collection of wagons that contained provisions and weapons. “He was over there the last I saw him.”
Garret pushed past the pair. “Food and drink in my solar, so I am told. I will see you both there.”