Chapter Three
“Forbes,” William Marshal greeted, amused when Gart stumbled back and tripped down a step, down onto the dirt floor of the tavern. “You looked quite staggered to see me. I was unaware my presence had such an impact on you.”
Grinning, Gart blinked his eyes, as the light from the open door was still bright. “Always, my lord,” he said seriously. “You cause me to stumble every time I see you.”
William chuckled, noticing that Gart was with three other very large men. Knights, he assumed, although they weren’t wearing any protection and a quick perusal of their weaponry showed it sorely lacking. He pointed to Kress, who was the closest man next to Gart.
“Introduce me to your companions, Gart,” he said, inspecting Kress from the top of the man’s blond head to the bottom of his enormous feet. “I would assume this is either Loxbeare or de Dere or de Rhydian.”
Gart nodded, turning to indicate Kress. “My lord, meet Sir Kress de Rhydian,” he said. “You have never met a man more deadly with a sword.”
William cocked an eyebrow at the knight. “We shall see,” he said vaguely, throwing a finger in the direction of an empty table over near the front windows of the tavern. “Let us retreat away from the entry so our business is not heard by the entire world.”
So much for them leaving the tavern to find another, less-hostile place. Gart simply followed William as the man headed for an empty table over near the front window.
“As you wish, my lord,” he said. “But truthfully, we were not expecting to see you until tonight.”
William waved him off. “We made excellent time with our travel,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the men following him. “If the big blond man is de Rhydian, then the other two must be Loxbeare and de Dere.”
They had reached the table, which was empty except for a small man sleeping at one end of it. As The Marshal’s men roused the man and chased him away, the group began to collect their seats. Gart indicated Maxton, who was closest to him.
“This is Sir Maxton of Loxbeare,” he said, “and the tall brute is Sir Achilles de Dere.”
As Maxton and Achilles acknowledged William with a nod of their heads, Gart made a point of not introducing The Marshal by name because he didn’t want anyone else in the room to hear the introduction.
Already, they were conducting their business out in the open and he was uncomfortable, but William didn’t seem to be particularly concerned.
He’d brought about twenty heavily-armed men with him inside, men who fanned out through the room, so that William on the inside was well protected.
As they settled around the old, worn table, William wasn’t thinking about his men, or the tavern, or anything else for that matter. His attention was entirely upon the three knights he had just been introduced to.
He’d been waiting a long time for this moment.
“Loxbeare,” he said to the bearded knight with the dark blue eyes. “I know your father well. He is quite thrilled to have you home.”
Maxton nodded faintly. “That seems strange, my lord, considering I have not spoken with my father in almost fifteen years.”
William could immediately sense a serious, if not somewhat morose, man beneath the hulking exterior.
He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to what seemed to be a family issue so he simply overlooked it.
“Your father is a fine man,” he said politely, turning his attention to the big blond knight who had been more congenial.
“De Rhydian, is it? You must be an excellent knight if you are keeping company with Loxbeare and de Dere.”
Kress smiled, lopsided. “I have allowed them to keep company with me, my lord,” he said arrogantly. “I would have hoped they’d have learned something from me by now.”
William grinned; he liked a man with confidence.
His attention finally came to rest on Achilles, the tallest of the group.
He also looked to be the youngest with his smooth face and bright eyes, but from his weathered neck and hands, it was clear that he was much older than he appeared.
Then William noticed the bloodied knuckles on the man and he couldn’t help but notice that the common room of the tavern had seen some serious upheaval. He motioned to the room before them.
“Was there some trouble here?” he asked.
Gart, trying to appear entirely ignorant, lifted his eyebrows questioningly. “Why would you ask?”
William gave Gart a rather wry expression. “I entered the tavern as you four were fleeing,” he said. “The room has been wrecked. What did you do?”
Gart held a serious expression for a few moments longer before being unable to do so. He cracked a smile, looking at Kress and Achilles, who were also grinning. Kress was shaking his head in exasperation. No one seemed willing to answer so Maxton was the one to finally speak.
“Achilles created a ruckus as only Achilles is capable of doing,” he said calmly. “But surely you do not wish to speak about a brawl in a tavern, my lord. Your presence here represents something far more important than a knight’s fight, so we would appreciate it if you would simply get on with it.”
William turned to the serious, even blunt, knight.
“Indeed, I will,” he agreed. His attention was drawn to the man; he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong, but there was something behind Maxton’s stormy eyes that made him appear quite edgy.
Unstable, even. It was something William would have to watch.
“I have come to see the three men who were ransomed with a good deal of money. I have come to ensure that you understand why you were ransomed.”
Gart, seeing that William was having some difficulty with Maxton’s seemingly hard attitude, cleared his throat softly. “I have informed them why they were ransomed, my lord,” he said quietly. “They know that they have been returned to England to do a job.”
“But you have not told them what job.”
“Nay, my lord. That should come from you. We have been two months upon the road home, so you will forgive us if tempers are short and we are weary in general. Proceed as you will. They are ready to hear it.”
He sounded as if he were making excuses for Maxton’s behavior, which he was.
William didn’t like that and especially not coming from Gart.
Forbes was not a man given to apologies.
His gaze, intense and appraising, looked over the three knights seated at his table.
The room around them was starting to show signs of life again as the tables were righted and patrons settled down again, but William didn’t notice.
He was only focused on the men before him.
“You know that you have been ransomed for a purpose,” he said.
“But hear me now; I will inform you of your purpose from my own lips and you will understand the situation as it stands. Firstly, let me be plain – you three now belong to me. I have ransomed you and you are therefore in my service. Is this in any way unclear?”
Kress and Achilles shook their heads, with Maxton responding a split second later.
William continued. “Excellent,” he said.
“Now, I wish to discuss your reputation in The Levant. It is my understanding that the three of you carried out, shall we say, unsavory tasks for the Christian commanders. Is this true?”
Again, Maxton was the one to nod. When dealing with the three of them, it was always Maxton who spoke for the group. “We did as we were told, my lord,” he said. “There was nothing more to it.”
William cocked an eyebrow at the man. “I would hope there is a great deal more to it,” he said. “I was also told that once you left The Levant, you found lords in France and Saxony and beyond who would also pay you for those particular skills.”
“A man must make money the best way he can, my lord.”
“Forbes tells me that you three are known as the Executioner Knights for your skill as assassins and spies.”
The three men looked at Gart who gazed steadily back at them.
It was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate on what he’d already told William; he expected the men in question to do it.
After a moment, Kress pursed his lips and looked at his lap while Achilles stretched his long arms over his head and leaned back in his chair, unwilling to answer.
Only Maxton was left to respond, once again.
They would leave the explaining to him.
“All men have their strengths and weaknesses, my lord,” Maxton said, his voice somewhat quieter. “Ours happen to be stealth, strength, and utter fearlessness. We work well as a team. We did as we were told and we accomplished our mission.”
“No matter how unpleasant?”
“No matter, my lord.”
“Your feelings do not come to bear?”
“Not in any case, my lord. They never have.”
William could see that. He was coming to understand something else, too – when Loxbeare spoke, there was no boastfulness.
Either he was being modest, or he was simply unwilling to elaborate on their reputation.
William suspected it was the latter; assassins usually did not live long if they bragged over their accomplishments.
He understood their position all too well.
Therefore, he leaned forward on the old table, motioning the knights nearer.
For what he was about to say, he didn’t want to shout.
As the three men leaned forward to listen, William eyed Gart, unspoken words passing between them.
Gart would keep an eye out for anyone trying to listen to their conversation.
As Gart sat back in his chair, far enough to keep on the alert but still close enough to hear the conversation, William began.
“You will answer me truthfully, in all things, or I shall send you back to the Lords of Baux without hesitation,” he said in a tone that suggested utter, complete compliance. “I’ve no time for foolishness or lies. Do you understand?”
The three men nodded.
“Swear upon your honor,” William said.