Chapter Seventeen
The King’s Gout Tavern
Kress, Achilles, Gart, Alexander, and Cullen were seated around a leaning, warped table at the tavern that was favored by most fighting men on the north side of London.
It was the biggest one and had the best wenches.
They had invited Sean and Kevin, and the de Lohr brothers to join them but, so far, they had yet to make an appearance.
It was well after the supper at Farringdon House, the one that had been so tense because of the friction between William and Maxton. It had been obvious when Maxton had joined their table later in the meal, informing them of his extended conversation with the St. Blitha pledge.
It had been rough from the start because William had asked, straight away, if Maxton had sent the girl back to St. Blitha yet.
The entire conversation prior to Maxton’s arrival had been about the pledge and what a valuable spy she would make inside of St. Blitha and when Maxton appeared, William went for the throat.
When Maxton had explained that not only had he not sent the girl back, but that she was pregnant, it seemed to throw the entire situation into question.
To everyone but William Marshal, that was.
He saw no difference in the girl being pregnant.
It wasn’t his concern that a pledge had conceived a child.
His only concern was in keeping the nuns from accomplishing their task of killing the king, a hard attitude that seemed to turn Maxton into stone.
He sat silently for the most part while William discussed their loyalty to the king and listed the reasons as to why that was all they should be concerned with.
Maxton had listened to William pound home his loyalty to king and country before replying to the man’s prattle by telling him that he would send her home as soon as she was rested.
That evidently wasn’t good enough for William, who pressed him further only for Maxton to tell him that any man who would save a monarchy by sacrificing the blood of an innocent woman was not a man he had much respect for.
At that point, Kress and Gart ushered Maxton out of the hall and sent him back up to his chamber to avoid any further confrontations with William, who was clearly annoyed with Maxton’s behavior.
It was concerning enough that Gart had sent word to Cullen, Sean, and Kevin, and the de Lohr brothers to meet them at The King’s Gout because they had to discuss the situation before it got out of hand.
Concerns were running high that Maxton was deviating from the course set for them and the circumstances needed to be clarified, because it was increasingly clear that Maxton, the man who had changed since leaving Les Baux-de-Provence, had changed even more than they had realized.
He was a different man.
Which was why they all found themselves here, inhaling the smoke of the common room, ignoring the tables that were screaming with laughter, drunk as the minutes of the night ticked away.
Cullen de Nerra seemed to be more distressed by the situation than the rest of them as he hovered over his half-empty cup.
“This does not sound like the Max I know,” he said quietly. “He actually argued with The Marshal? I’ve never known the man to argue with anyone other than the de Lohr brothers.”
They were nursing two pitchers of dark, heavy wine imported from the Mediterranean region. Gart picked up one of the pitchers to fill Cullen’s cup as he answered.
“The problem is that The Marshal has not worked with Maxton before,” he said.
“He does not know that Maxton is a man of his word. He has been given a task and he will accomplish it regardless of his personal feelings, but Max was never one to hold back when expressing his thoughts on a matter. And he can be very moody, moodier still since his time at the Lateran Palace. I am not sure he is the Max that any of us knew any longer. He has… changed.”
“Mayhap he has changed in personality, but the soul of the man is the same,” Kress said quietly.
As Maxton’s closest friend, he was the one best suited to speak to the situation.
“Those of us who have spent time with him over the past year have seen it – the introspection, the seeking of knowledge from wise men, holy men, or any man who might have an insight into the world at large. Now that I’ve seen him react to the pledge from St. Blitha, it is increasingly clear that he’s growing a conscience.
Something about that girl has stirred something in him, as if he’s only noticing the injustices of the world for the very first time. ”
Gart grunted unhappily. “God’s Bones, of all time for the man to develop a heart,” he said. “What happened to the cold killer we all knew?”
“He is still there,” Achilles said. When they all turned to look at him, he merely shrugged. “Make no mistake; the cold killer is still there, as deadly as ever. But Maxton has grown up. He is a man of flesh and blood, and I think that girl has stirred the man in him – the romantic.”
The table looked at Achilles as if the man were crazy. “You must be drunk,” Gart muttered. “The man has no romance in him.”
Achilles was unrepentant. “All men have romance in them, Forbes,” he said. “Some simply keep it buried deeper than others.”
Cullen seized on the possibility. “Are you saying that Max actually has feelings for this… this pledge?” he asked, incredulous. “Not only is she pledged to the church, but she has clearly been with another man. The girl is pregnant. And this is the girl who is stirring Maxton’s romantic feelings?”
Achilles simply lifted his shoulders. “We have seen the girl,” he said.
“She is not unattractive. In fact, she’s rather beautiful in a pale sort of way.
Whatever she is, and whoever she is, she has bewitched Max, but I do not believe William has figured that out yet.
He simply thinks Max is being stubborn.”
“Then he is risking his reputation for a woman he just met,” Gart growled. “In fact, I…”
He was cut off when the tavern door slammed back on its hinges and four big knights entered the common room of the tavern, adding to the noise and chaos. Gart could immediately see that it was the men they’d invited and he stood up, catching their attention and waving them over.
Kevin de Lara, Christopher and David de Lohr, and, finally, Sean de Lara approached the table, grabbing chairs as they moved through the crowded common room and sitting down at the table with their pilfered seats. Cups and wine were passed to them.
“My wife is furious because I answered Gart’s summons in the midst of a family feast, so let this be brief,” Christopher said as he poured his wine. “What is so important that I had to travel across London for this meeting? And why are we not converging at Farringdon House?”
It was Gart who answered, since he was the instigator of the meeting. “Because we do not want The Marshal to be part of this conversation,” he said. “Much has happened since the meeting this morning, Chris. We now know the means by which the assassination against the king will be made.”
Christopher was very interested. “What is it?”
“Nuns.”
Christopher’s cup of wine stopped halfway to his lips. “What?” he hissed. “Nuns? Who told you this madness?”
Gart shook his head. “It is not madness, I assure you,” he said. Then, he looked to Alexander across the table. “Tell him, Sherry.”
Alexander sat forward, lowering his voice as much as he could in a room full of loud, drunken people.
“I have been trailing a double agent since leaving the Lateran Palace,” he said.
“In fact, a high-placed advisor to our Holy Father paid me to kill this man. There is far more to the story that I am going to tell you but, for the sake of time, I will tell you the gist of it. The man I was paid to kill is a Scotsman named Alasdair Baird Douglas. He delivered a message to the Mother Abbess of St. Blitha, a personal message from our Holy Father, that instructed the Mother Abbess to murder the king when he arrives at St. Blitha to celebrate her feast day.”
Christopher’s wine never made it to his mouth. Incredulous, he set his cup down and stared at Alexander as if the man had gone completely daft. “Christ,” he finally muttered. “The feast is in two days. And you are certain of this?”
Alexander nodded. “Unfortunately,” he said. “It was corroborated by a pledge from St. Blitha, quite by accident. In fact… the pledge is why we have called this meeting.”
“Why?”
“Because Max seems to have developed an attachment to the woman.”
As Christopher made a face suggesting complete confusion, David wasn’t so subtle. “That is ridiculous,” he said. “Max has no attachment to any woman.”
“That is what we know of the Maxton from the past,” Alexander countered. “But the Maxton who has returned from eight years away from England, including years of fighting with you two in The Levant, is a different man altogether. He is behaving in ways we never knew possible.”
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“He has come close to throttling The Marshal at least twice because of the man’s stance on the pledge,” Alexander explained.
“William wants to use her to spy on the nuns of St. Blitha since she lives there, but Maxton does not want the woman involved. He says she is not a spy and does not have the skills needed for what William wants her to do.”
David didn’t have a quick answer to that.
He looked at his brother, baffled by what he was hearing.
“Since when does Maxton of Loxbeare argue with his liege?” he finally asked.
“Better still, since when does he even care about anyone other than himself and a few fellow knights? Max is blindly obedient in all things. I’ve never known him to be otherwise. ”