Chapter Three #2
They did, in unison, and William continued. “I understand that you had an encounter with Lothar on your return from The Levant. Confirm this to me.”
Lothar. Sitting on the right hand of The Marshal, the mere mention of the name caused Maxton to stiffen somewhat.
He knew that William was referring to the pope by his birth name – Lothario.
Rather than address the man by his proper title, he was using a casual reference and Maxton knew it was because of the ongoing war between the pope and the King of England.
There was little to no respect there, long gone to dust in the constant embattlement between John and the Catholic Church.
Even so, now that the name of the Holy Father had been brought forth, the light of why he and Achilles and Kress had been ransomed by William and Eleanor of Aquitaine was beginning to flicker in Maxton’s mind, and not in a good way.
In truth, perhaps he’d always suspected, but now, he was receiving confirmation of it.
There was only one explanation – that they knew of the offer made from the Holy Father to the Executioner Knights.
Maxton didn’t know how they knew, but they did.
He found his eyes flicking to Gart as the man sat there, alert and silent.
But Gart wasn’t looking at him and Maxton began to grow suspicious; perhaps Gart had told The Marshal, but how did Gart find out about the offer?
Maxton had never told him and on their trip home from Baux, the subject of the Lateran Palace, or the pope, or anything else religious had never really come up.
Perhaps, that was because Gart had already known, and he’d been leading the three knights home to face an interrogation about it.
That had to be it.
Maxton was instantly on his guard.
“I will confirm it,” he said after a moment. “But if you know that, then you also know that the very encounter was the reason we were prisoners of the Lords of Baux.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
Maxton wasn’t comfortable speaking about a situation that had impacted him and his friends intensely, but he had little choice.
His suspicions were growing, and he was coming to wonder if there weren’t a hundred crown troops outside of the tavern, all of them awaiting a signal from The Marshal to come charging in and puncture him to death.
If William knew he’d met with the pope, then he probably knew why.
Even though the offer had been made in the strictest confidence, something like that wouldn’t remain a secret forever. Men talked.
With that thought lingering on his mind, Maxton proceeded carefully, trying not to look like a man who was pleading his case.
But he was.
“Much as you have heard of our reputation, so had the Holy Father,” he said, his voice so low that it was coming out as a growling whisper.
“When we reached Rome on our journey back to England, an Italian knight we had become acquainted with during our time in The Levant spoke of a papal directive of a most secretive kind. It would seem that the knight had a cousin in the Lateran Palace, and the Holy Father had been looking for good English knights for a special mission. Our friend, the Italian knight, had mentioned what he knew of us to his cousin, who in turn told the Holy Father. We were evidently what the Holy Father was looking for, and we were brought to the Lateran Palace. When we were deemed trustworthy, we met with the Holy Father himself.”
William was listening intently. “Just like that? Was it so easy, then, to have an audience with Lothar?”
Maxton’s lips twitched with an ironic smile.
“Nay, it was not so easy as all that,” he said.
“We spent months in Rome, being seduced by those in the Lateran Palace and all they could provide us. Wine and women, and even money. We lived like kings. When it was determined we were loyal enough to the Holy Father, we were summoned to speak with him. But it took time.”
William sighed faintly, digesting the situation. “Why did you remain, then? Purely for the fact that you were being spoiled with food and comfort?”
Maxton lifted his big shoulders. “Nay,” he said, “although I will admit that after the hell of The Levant, it was a welcome change. We remained because we were intrigued by whispers of large sums of money and property that the Holy Father was willing to pay for a most important task. Call it a mercenary intention if you must, but we had a purpose in remaining. It wasn’t simply hedonism. ”
William’s eyes glittered as he looked at him.
“All men have a mercenary heart,” he said.
“It is the one thing every man has in common, if nothing else. So… you remained where you were pampered and spoiled, waiting for an offer of a task with great rewards. When you finally met with Lothar, what did he ask of you?”
Maxton didn’t hesitate. “To kill the king.”
“John?”
“Aye.”
“And you refused?”
Maxton snorted. “That was why you found us in the possession of the Lords of Baux,” he said.
“We refused to assassinate our own king and the Holy Father took exception to that. So that his offer to us would not become public knowledge, he threw us into the vault and then sold us off to the Lords of Baux, who had never made it clear what they intended to do with us. The garrison commander at Baux-de-Provence, who became friendly with us because he hated his lord with a passion, told us that we were to be ransomed back to our families, but that never materialized.”
William absorbed what he was being told. It was everything Gart had told him and more. “Did Lothar tell you why he wanted John removed?”
Maxton shook his head. “He did not,” he said flatly.
“But he offered us enough riches to buy our own army if we took to the task. My lord, it is well known that John and the Holy Father are in contention with each other. That has never been a secret, so if I am made an offer to remove my king, I do not question it. But no reason given could be worthy enough for such a task. He may be a weak king, but he is the only one England has. He has his mother’s powerful backing, and I would rather see him on the throne than one of his brother’s children.
A child upon England’s throne would be an invitation for disaster. ”
They were astonishing and astute words. William stared at him a moment before finally shaking his head in a wry, and even foreboding, gesture.
“More than you know,” he muttered. “But that is exactly why Lothar wanted you to remove John. To put a child upon the throne.”
Maxton’s eyebrows lifted as Kress and Achilles sat closer, now completely wrapped up in the conversation.
“A child?” Maxton repeated. “Who? Arthur? God, don’t tell me he wants that lad for the throne.
He is controlled by Philip, the French king.
Why would the Holy Father want a French-controlled king on the throne? ”
William shook his head quickly. “He does not,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice, his yellowed eyes fixed on Maxton. “There is another.”
An expression of confusion washed over Maxton’s face. He glanced at Kress and Achilles, who appeared equally perplexed. Seeing their reactions, Maxton returned his focus to William.
“Of whom do you speak?” he asked. “Who else is there?”
Their confusion was evident, telling William that everything Maxton had told him was the truth. They truly didn’t know the motive behind the pope’s request. With that realization, William sighed heavily before proceeding.
“Richard wintered in Sicily ten years ago en route to The Levant,” he said grimly.
“While there, he had a liaison with a nobleman’s daughter and a son was born.
That child is now in the possession of Lothar and he plans to eliminate John and place Richard’s own son upon the throne.
He is prepared to swear that the child’s mother was married to Richard, thereby rendering his marriage to Berengaria null.
He will make the boy Richard’s legal heir and the hereditary king of England. ”
Maxton stared at him. In fact, they were all staring at him, every man at the table other than Gart, who was still being alert for anyone else listening to the conversation.
But the lull became extended enough that Gart finally looked to the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Maxton, Kress, and Achilles.
“This news you hear comes from me,” Gart said quietly, watching three sets of astonished eyes turn to him. “I received the information from a man very close to the Holy Father.”
Maxton wasn’t over his shock. “Who?”
“Abramo.”
That brought a reaction from Maxton. “I know this man,” he said. “He is the right hand to the Holy Father. In fact, I would say that he controls those in the church even more than the Holy Father does. He is a sinister man who wields great power.”
“And this information come from him,” Gart emphasized.
“They wanted English knights to assassinate John because it was felt that Englishmen could get closer to the king than a foreign warrior. That is what they wanted of you, Max. They wanted you to remove John from the throne so they could put Richard’s bastard upon it. ”
Maxton didn’t think he could be any more astonished than he already was, but he was wrong. It was a massive plot and the more he pondered it, the more astounded he became.
“And I refused,” he muttered. Then, his sharp gaze moved quickly between Gart and William. “But I would wager to say that was not the end of it. They would simply make the offer to someone else.”
William nodded, seeing that Maxton was coming to fully understand the situation now.
“And they have,” he said, “but we do not know who it is. That is where you come in, why we have ransomed you. It will take men of your particular talents to prevent the assassins from reaching the king. In fact, I would suspect whoever has been charged with that task is already here, in England.”