Chapter Five
“… War is a man’s game, though no one thought to tell her that. She was not only playing with fire, she was seducing it….”
The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara
The corridor outside of her apartment was dark and void of the usual guard. Sheridan should have thought that to be strange, but she was too concerned for Neely. When the door to her chambers finally opened, she walked headlong into a room full of the unexpected.
The Earl of Salisbury sat near the blazing hearth along with the bishops of Rochester, Lincoln, Worcester and Coventry. William Marshall stood near a bowl of winter fruit, gorging himself on ripe pears and throwing the cores to the puppy, who was dancing at his feet.
Shocked, she delved further into the room and was greeted by the Earl of Warenne.
The Earl of Arundel was back in a corner, conversing quietly with Henry de Neville.
The barons Fitz Herbert and Fitz Hugh rounded out the company, older men who had seen much fighting with Henry the Second and Henry St. James.
The most powerful men in England filled her antechamber, all quite calmly, and all quite deliberately.
Sheridan’s surprise was full-blown. She had no idea how to react. But it was especially evident when the Bishop of Bath and Glastonbury took her by the arm.
“Jocelin,” she gasped, hugging him fiercely. “When were you released?”
He kissed her hand. “Earlier this afternoon by Neely.”
Her head jerked towards the bedchamber door; Neely stood there, not a bloody mark on him, his dark eyes glittering at her. He bowed chivalrously.
“Oh, my,” she sighed heavily, trying to get a grasp on the situation. “But who released Neely? I do not understand any of this. I was told that Neely was.…”
“I know,” Jocelin patted her hand. “We had to get you back to your apartment without raising suspicions. ’Twas I who sent Millie after you with tales of death.”
Her gaze was still on Neely. “Are you well? How did you get out?”
Neely moved to stand next to her. “It was quite strange, actually,” he said. “A bear of a man opened my cell and grabbed me by the arm, took me to Jocelin’s cell one flight up, and then told us both to leave. I don’t know who he was or why he let us go. But I did not ask questions.”
Another surprise in a night that had been full of them. She mulled over Neely and Jocelin’s release for a few moments until the activity in the room caught her attention again. She looked around the room, awed by the company therein.
“All of these men,” she whispered to Jocelin. “There was no indication in the corridor of their presence. No guards at all.”
“Better not to raise suspicions with a collage of sentinels from all over England announcing a room full of nobles.”
She understood, somewhat. “But why are they here?”
Jocelin’s eyes twinkled. “With the king celebrating the anniversary of his father’s death, certainly he did not expect any of us to attend. So, while he is occupied, so are we. Under his very nose.”
Sheridan could see the strategy now. Shock fading, she was coming to understand the brilliance of such an assembly. No guards in the hall to announce their meeting, and assembling as the king himself was else occupied.
“The last I saw, he was entering the great hall as Jesus entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday,” she said. “Everyone was at his feet.”
“Then he shall be occupied for some time,” Jocelin took her by the elbow and pulled her into the center of the room. “No better time to start than the present. Gentle nobles, if you please. Now that Glastonbury has arrived, let us begin.”
The men around the room put aside their small conversations and Jocelin stepped into the center.
“Thank you for your attention,” he said. “I suspect our time is limited to the duration of John’s degenerate feast, so I shall come to the point. Henry?”
De Neville moved forward. A thin, wiry man, his family had been a fixture in Northumberland since the days of William the Conqueror. He was cunning and he was wise.
“Good men of England,” he began. “There is no need to go into the details of why we are here; we’ve know this time has been long in coming.
With John’s recent defeat in France to reclaim his northern territories, he has once again returned to London and to levy more taxes against us and our properties.
There was a time when the king would consult with his barons for such a thing, but that time is over.
John views himself as an omnipotent emperor, not a king with responsibilities towards his people.
We all know that he will tax us into the ground if we do not act. ”
The nobles glanced at each other, some knowingly, some nervously.
Sheridan knew exactly what they were referring to; she and her father had had long discussions about the consensus of the allies.
Though as a woman she should have kept silent, as Henry St. James’ heiress, she controlled the powers of the earldom.
She would speak on behalf of her father.
“I have fifteen hundred retainers camped ten miles to the east along the Thames,” she said. “The Bishop of Bath and Glastonbury commands another four hundred. All of these men are awaiting the command to move.”
The room was silent with the heaviness of the realization. Everything they had been planning, the secret happenings of months past, was finally coming to bear. They were perhaps a bit ashamed that a woman had been the first one to offer arms. Arundel finally spoke.
“I have two thousand men just north of the city,” he said. “They can be ready to march at dawn provided we are all in agreement.”
Guy had been relatively unnoticed since the moment he entered the room. He, too, had been shocked by the men unexpectedly receiving him in the St. James antechamber, but his shock had just as quickly disappeared. His father had told him to expect something like this and he was moderately prepared.
“I speak for my father, gentlemen,” he said, his voice wise beyond his years. “If London is to be taken, you have de Braose support. Though we’ve war on the Marches, I have brought five hundred men with me. My father sends his approval for this action.”
“It’s not merely the action,” Sheridan said, still hesitant to speak her mind in such auspicious company but feeling strongly that she should.
“Once London is captured, what then? Where is this document I have heard tale of from my father, a charter that will ensure the monarchy will treat the barons with fairness?”
“I have it,” William Marshall spoke, like the voice of God. “As Earl of Pembroke, I have appointed myself constable of the document. It has been worded mostly by Stephen, Archbishop of Canterbury and William, Bishop of London, but certainly we have all had a say in the content.”
“Is it complete, my lord?” Sheridan asked. “Is it something that will justify our actions should we decide to move forward?”
William shook his head. “It is not yet absolute, my lady. That is why we’ve met here this night, to complete this document that the king will be bound to govern by.”
William snapped his long, gnarled fingers and a man emerged from the shadows, a steward bearing the Marshall cross.
From the folds of the man’s tunic appeared a long, cylindrical tube, from which he pulled forth a fragile, yellowed vellum.
The steward set it upon the table in the center of the room and the others looked at it with varied degrees of interest. It was a large document, full of careful writing.
Sheridan watched the others vie for a better look at the manuscript. She stood back, out of the way, her mind churning with thoughts that Henry St. James planted in her head. She could not rest until she had answers.
“My lord Marshall,” she said. “I mean no disrespect, of course, but if I am to order my army to march on London and in essence, create an act of treachery, then I would have my deed supported by a valid foundation from this body of men. That is to say, if I am to march, then let it be for a reason. Let the king be able to behold that reason and fulfill it as required. I will not march for marching’s sake.
I will not be a traitor for traitor’s sake. ”
As she finished, nearly every man in the room was looking at her. Arundel actually smiled but deferred all comments to the Marshall. He was, after all, the one she had addressed.
“Well said, little Henry,” the Marshall said after a moment.
The men around the table chuckled softly, as did Sheridan.
“The reason is before you. We are reviewing it as you speak. But you will draw your own conclusion; if this document is not sufficient reason for you to march on our king, then I shall not require it, nor will I be disappointed if you do not. You must make your choice.”
“Then if we approve the contents of this charter, we will move immediately to secure London in an effort to force the king into agreeing to our terms?”
“London is our hostage. By agreeing to our terms, the king can save her. By saving her, we can thereby save all of England.”
“You make it sound simple, my lord.”
“Simple, no. But necessary.”
Sheridan had no more questions at the moment.
William’s gaze drifted over her, carefully; he had a good deal of respect for her as Henry’s daughter.
But there was something more to Lady Sheridan than met the eye; they could all see that.
She had intelligence and she was well-thought. Henry had raised a sensible child.