Chapter Seven
“… when it became obvious that nothing we had planned for would come to pass, other ideals took shape. It was necessary. A man of experience knows his limitations. I refused to accept mine….”
The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara
The corridors of the royal wing were quiet at this time of day.
As dusk fell and shadows waned, the royal guard were changing shifts and the king was taking his usual late-afternoon slumber so that he would be able to stand an evening of food and drink without retiring early.
It spoiled his fun. De Lara and d’Athée were in their usual room, in the chamber off of the king’s main bower.
This time of day was like the calm before the storm.
Sean was sharpening a small dagger; d’Athée was trying to make heads or tails out of a map of the Welsh Marches.
He wasn’t an educated man. Gerard’s strength lay in the physical realm.
He was as strong as a bear but as shallow as a cat.
There wasn’t much he knew or cared about other than enough liquor to drink and enough women to bed.
He relied on Sean’s intellect where it really mattered.
The two of them had worked side by side, day and night, for five years.
To date, it had been a compatible relationship though they could hardly be called close. It was simply the way of things.
“De Lara,” Gerard scratched his loused head, his frustrated expression fixed upon the map. “Kington; where is it?”
Sean glanced up from the dagger. “South of Montgomery.”
“Where?”
Sean stood up, still rubbing the dagger against the stone, and walked over to where Gerard stood against the table. He looked at the map and thumped a finger on the spot.
“There,” he said.
Gerard squinted at the map. “Is it a big castle?”
“Big enough. Clifford holds it, plus he also holds Clifford Castle and Hay-on-Wye Castle.”
Gerard shook his head. “Not so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Clifford came to see the king while you were off with the red-haired chit. De Braose is laying siege to Kington as we speak. He had it before and now he wants it back.”
Sean lifted an eyebrow but did not respond further. He walked away from the table, back to his chair. Gerard was still focused on the map.
“He wants you to ride for Kington,” he said. “He’ll be sending you within the week.”
“Who?”
“The king.”
Sean had to consciously prevent himself from reacting. He took his seat casually, spit on the stone, and continued sharpening the dagger. “Did he tell you this?”
“Aye.” Gerard looked up from the map. “De Lara, ’tis your business what you do with the red-head. God knows, I have done enough with women to warrant a fine place in Hell. But at least I take them after our king has had his fill. I think your actions have concerned him.”
“Is that so?” Sean knew that Gerard could hardly keep a secret, or his opinions, to himself. With Gerard, sometimes it was difficult to separate the two. “What actions are those?”
“That you took the woman away from him. He doesn’t like competition.”
“So he is sending me to fight Clifford’s war in punishment?” Sean snorted. “I would hardly believe that.”
“He is sending you to smash de Braose.”
Sean continued the steady grind of metal against stone, although his thoughts were racing. “That,” he said slowly, “I would believe. Did he say this?”
Gerard nodded. “He is furious with the de Braose clan. With the final father and son remaining from that great dynasty, he is determined to crush them once and for all. Were the king to confiscate their holdings along the Marches, it would greatly enrich his coffers.”
“Indeed,” Sean sighed, trying to appear as if the information really did not concern him. “The House of de Braose has been a Norman fixture in England since the conquest. I am almost sorry to see the last of the line go.”
“Don’t be,” Gerard said. “If I were you, I’d worry about the House of St. James.”
Sean’s heart skipped a beat. “What in the hell for?”
Gerard made his way over to where Sean was seated. “Because our king is mulling over the possibility of razing Lansdown Castle on your way to the Marches.”
Sean stopped sharpening. He stared at Gerard, struggling not to overtly respond. “Why would he do that?”
“Why not?”
Sean held Gerard’s gaze a moment longer, trying to read him. But the man’s expression was characteristically stupid. He slowly went back to his blade. “Then he’d better send me with a large army. Lansdown is nearly impenetrable.”
Gerard lingered around the chair for the moment. Sean could feel him breathing down his neck. He wasn’t so sure why the man was being so solicitous, but he didn’t like it. He was suspicious. The blade in his hand suddenly ended up at Gerard’s throat.
D’Athée threw his hands up in response to the threatening action. There was a glimmer of humor in his dark eyes.
“Not me, my friend,” he said with a smile. “I am not your enemy.”
Sean’s clear blue eyes were laced with venom. “Tell me everything you have heard and tell me why you feel the need to be so solicitous.”
Gerard continued to grin at him in the hopes of infuriating Sean. It didn’t work. After a moment, his smug grin faded.
“He had me follow you this afternoon,” he rumbled.
“He wanted to see where you took the St. James girl. I followed you to the physic and back to the St. James apartments. Then I followed you back to the physic again, where you sent the man back to the St. James’ chambers. And now, here we are, cozy comrades.”
Sean had the point of the blade aimed right at his major artery. One flick and the man would bleed to death right in front of him. They both knew that it was not out of the realm of possibility; they’d both seen Sean do far worse.
“Why did he have you follow me?” Sean’s tone was as deadly as the wicked gleam of the blade.
“Because you stopped him from having his way with the red-haired girl. You have never done that before.”
A split-second of uncertainty crossed Sean’s eyes, but Gerard was too dense to see it. “I told him why. There is no mystery to it.”
Gerard shook his head, rubbing his neck against the blade. Spots of blood appeared. “But you took her to the physic and escorted her home.”
Sean lifted an eyebrow. “I have done that before, too, and well you know it. In fact, you have accompanied me on such outings. I did nothing with the St. James woman that I haven’t done before.”
“Except stopped the king from taking her. You know as well as I do that no one does that and escapes his wrath, or his suspicions.”
“So what has he sent you to do? Watch every move I make? Kill me as I sleep?”
Gerard shook his head, carefully. “No, my friend. Nothing so drastic. You are a favorite of our king. But you placed doubt in his mind with your actions. He will demand a show of your loyalty now.”
Sean could see where he was leading. “To destroy Lansdown?”
“To prove you are more loyal to him than to the House of St. James.”
With a hiss, Sean dropped the knife and turned away. “So that’s it,” he said. “He needs affirmation of my fealty.”
“Aye.”
Sean turned to him. “Does he really think I have loyalties to the opposition? For Christ’s sake, I have spent nine years in his personal service. Does he really believe I would jeopardize my standing for a stupid wench hardly out of swaddling clothes?”
Gerard shrugged. “All I know is what I have heard. He has not told me anything directly. I would expect he would do that, to you, very shortly.”
Sean’s jaw was ticking, a million thoughts rolling through his mind. “He wants me out of London and off to the wilds,” he muttered to himself. There was tremendous irony in his voice as he slowly shook his head. “Oh, sweet mercy.”
Gerard left him alone. Sean didn’t know where the man went, but he suspected it was to tell the king of their conversation. Of that, he was unconcerned. But he was deeply concerned with the course the last few minutes had taken.
So he would be ordered to ride to Kington, destroying Lansdown along the way.
It didn’t even matter that Lansdown would be his own when he married Sheridan.
It had nothing to do with that. What mattered was making sure Sheridan was safe before he left, and there was no doubt he would go.
He had to. Nine years had come to this point and he would not risk everything, at least not now.
Everything now hinged on the attack on London.
It had to be before he left for the Marches so that he did not have to go.
He would undoubtedly be required to stay and protect the city.
Consequently, he had to get Sheridan out of London now and send her home for her own safety.
However, if the attack on London was delayed and he found himself mobilizing for the Marches with Lansdown in his path, then he would find himself attacking the castle with Sheridan within its walls.
It was an appalling prospect.
A few hours before dawn found Alys wandering the halls of the royal apartments again.
Roused from a deep sleep, Sean could hear her distant weeping.
With a start, he threw himself out of the chair he had been dozing on and tossed open the doors from his chamber so hard that one of them actually unhinged.
He was in the corridor, marching towards the sounds of her weeping.
She was disheveled and hysterical, attempting to tell a crimson-clad guard the purpose of her visit.
Sean marched upon her and she cried out the moment she saw him.
But he knew, whatever she said, could not be beneficial to anyone so he slapped a massive hand over her mouth and physically carried her back down the hall in the direction that she had come.
He didn’t want her anywhere near the royal apartments.
She had already cost him much. He would not let her cost him everything.
Halfway down a servant’s stair, he set her down. Her face was red and damp from weeping.