Chapter Six #5
Alexander grinned as he recalled those decadent months of wine, food, and women.
For a moment, he warmed to the memory. “Nor I,” he said.
“We all lived like kings for the time we spent at the Lateran Palace, until those sworn to serve God made us questionable offers that went against His teachings. In truth… it seems like another lifetime ago.”
Maxton found himself reflecting on those very same things. “It does,” he said. “But our lives, Sherry… they have never been comfortable or pleasant for any length of time. That is not the nature of our business.”
Alexander’s good humor faded. “That is true,” he said.
“But what we received at the Lateran Palace went beyond comfort, at least for the time we were there. But after the depravity and self-indulgence, when were offered missions for a great sum of money, that was when everything changed. The offer that came to me was the pursuit of a double agent, a man who was discovered to spy for both the Holy Father and the Scottish king. And the offer that came to you and Kress and Achilles… your offer was far worse than mine. They wanted you to kill your own king, an offer that turned against you when you refused, and the Holy Father sold you to the Lords of Baux in punishment.”
Maxton’s voice was soft. “He wanted us to kill John to supplant him with Richard’s bastard son,” he said. “Did you know that? Richard had an affair before marrying Berengaria and the boy was the result. A boy currently in the possession of the Holy Father.”
Alexander sighed heavily. “I’d heard rumor,” he said. “Nothing definitive, but now the mission to assassinate John makes sense. It wasn’t simply a random directive.”
“It was not.”
“Max… forgive me for not helping you and Kress and Achilles in all of this. I should have tried to free you from the Lords of Baux. I should have…”
Maxton shook him gently, cutting him off.
“Nay,” he said firmly. “You had agreed to your offer and you were already on your way by the time everything happened to us. If you had gone back on your word simply to help your friends, your fate would have been the same as ours. Never second-guess your decision, Sherry. You did the right thing. Have you found your man, by the way?”
Alexander shook his head. “He is in London, somewhere,” he said.
“I have tracked him all across the continent, up to the land of the Northmen, and back across the sea. He came ashore in Berwick and then found his way back down to London. It has been a long year of following him, but I am confident I will find him now.”
“Why do you say that?”
Alexander dropped his hand from Maxton’s shoulder.
“Because it seems that my target is where he wants to be – here, in London,” he said.
“Alasdair Baird Douglas, as he calls himself, has been an agent for the Holy Father for some time, a gift from the King of Scotland, so I’m told.
But it was discovered that the man is also feeding secretive information to the Scots, information about the Holy Father, and that is why they want him stopped. They paid me a king’s ransom to do it.”
“I never did ask you who made you your offer. Did the Holy Father send you after him?”
Alexander shook his head. “He did not,” he said. “Abramo did. You know the man.”
That drew a reaction from Maxton. He rolled his eyes unhappily. “I know him,” he muttered. “So does Gart. All of us who spent time at the Lateran Palace know him. He’s a deceitful, ambitious beast hiding behind the guise of a priest.”
Alexander cocked an eyebrow. “Was he the one who told you about Richard’s bastard, then? Because the rumors I heard were that Abramo was the one speaking of the boy.”
“He did not tell me,” Maxton said. “I knew nothing of it until the Marshal told us of the boy after we were freed from Baux. All Kress and Achilles and I knew was that the Holy Father wanted our king dead, and that came directly from the Holy Father himself. He never once mentioned the lad.”
Now things were a bit clearer. When they’d last seen each other, the situation for all of them had been a bit chaotic.
Alexander had been forced to leave on his mission before Maxton had agreed to his offer, and it had only been later on, through another knight, that he’d heard of Maxton’s imprisonment.
Still, he’d never forgiven himself for not helping his friends, for not being there when they needed him.
But Maxton had been correct – he’d agreed to an offer and his word was his bond.
It was the way men such as them worked; they were only as good as their words.
Were they to break the bond, then the respect they’d worked for and their reputations would have suffered.
It seemed harsh to choose a mission over friendship, but each of them understood the risks of their vocation.
Honor was everything, even among assassins.
“I saw Gart yesterday, right after he left a meeting with you and William Marshal,” Alexander said after a moment.
“We spoke briefly, but he told me that The Marshal has tasked you and your Unholy brethren with finding the papal assassins meant for the king. Do we know for certain the Holy Father has sent others?”
“We do not know for certain, but we can surmise. We refused to do the job, so they would simply find others.”
“That is my thought, as well,” Alexander said. Then, he paused. “I have a thought about that, Max.”
“What?”
“I wonder if the assassin is Douglas.”
Now, Maxton was very interested. “The man you are chasing? What makes you think so?”
Alexander stroked his bearded chin, turning towards the windows overlooking London, a glorious sight now that the sun had risen.
He’d missed this sight in the years he’d spent away from England.
The ribbon of the Thames was to the south, glittering in the early morning light, and the land to the west spread out to the horizon like a vast green jewel. Green, beautiful England.
He was glad to be back, no matter what the circumstances.
“I say that because I have been chasing the man for a year and we have ended up in London,” he said.
“Coincidentally, when John happens to be here. Douglas has led me on a merry chase, but he has never stayed more than a night or two in any given location – we have been to more cities and villages than I can count, and I have never been more than a few days behind him. But now that we are in London, we are going on the third night here and I’ve seen no movement from the man. He is dug in like vermin on a dog.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Alexander nodded. “I do,” he said. “He is down by the docks.”
Maxton cocked his head curiously. “Then if you know where he is, why not fulfill your task and do away with him? Why wait?”
Alexander glanced at him, something lurking on those dark eyes.
“Because the man has my curiosity,” he said.
“I could have killed him many times during the course of my travels, but his movements intrigue me. He has left his share of used women and death in his wake, but once we reached Berwick, he sent a messenger north into Scotland, but I managed to catch up to the messenger and kill him, so the Scottish king will not be receiving any intelligence from Douglas. I am sure he does not know that, and now he is here in London, lingering. But what is most strange about his movement is this – I tracked him to St. Blitha, a poor Dominica order outside of the city walls to the north. I have no idea why he was there, but he stayed for more than an hour before departing and fleeing into the city.”
Maxton’s eyebrows lifted. St. Blitha! That was where his starving angel resided, the woman who had occupied his mind since nearly the moment he’d met her. Confusion swept him.
“Why in the hell would he be going to St. Blitha?” he asked. “There are only women there. What message could he possibly have for them?”
Alexander shook his head. “I cannot tell you,” he said. “It is possible he has a sister there, I suppose. Mayhap he went to visit her. Or, more than likely, he has a message from the Lateran Palace for one of the nuns.”
“A message from whom?”
Alexander lifted his shoulders. “According to Abramo, Douglas had many audiences with the Holy Father before he left,” he said. “Mayhap, it is a message from the Holy Father himself, although I have no idea why the man would be sending a message to a tiny, poor order like St. Blitha.”
“But it was Abramo who sent you to kill the man?”
“Aye.”
“Did he do it on the order of the Holy Father?”
Alexander shook his head. “He made it clear that there was no such order,” he said quietly. “It is Abramo who wants him dead, not the Holy Father.”
All of that made absolutely no sense to Maxton.
“Baffling,” he muttered. “What concerns me, however, is your thought that he could be the very assassin I am looking for. Could it be possible he went to St. Blitha asking for sanctuary after he completes his task against John? If you think about it, killing the king and then hiding in an obscure abbey until he can escape London is a rather brilliant plan.”
“A plan that could have come from the Holy Father in one of those many meetings with him that he has had with the man.”
The light went on in Maxton’s eyes. “Indeed,” he growled. “Now, this is starting to make some sense. Your assignment to kill Douglas could solve both our problems.”
Alexander nodded knowingly, tapping the side of his head as if to congratulate them both on figuring out a most complex and confusing scheme. If it was true. At this moment, they had no reason to believe it wasn’t.
“What next?” Alexander asked him.
Maxton thought on that question quite seriously. “I believe you should go to the docks,” he said. “Kress and Achilles are already there, scouting out the area. Find them and tell them what we have discussed. As for me… I have business at St. Blitha.”
“What are you going to do?”
Maxton wasn’t sure, but thoughts of Andressa were weighing more heavily on his mind than they ever had before. He was coming to think that meeting the starving woman that morning hadn’t been a coincidence… perhaps it had been a sign from God, sent to help him prevent the murder of a king.
He couldn’t think of it any other way.
“I am not certain as of yet,” he said, “but I will meet you at the docks when I am done. Wait for me there.”
Alexander nodded, giving him yet another slap on the shoulder as he departed the chamber, heading down the stairwell. Maxton wasn’t far behind him. Suddenly, he wasn’t sleepy any longer. His mind was working furiously on what he’d been told, and what he needed to do.
An eventful morning was about to turn into an eventful day.