Chapter Twenty #2
Douglas understood. God help him, he understood completely.
The trouble was that Eric hadn’t held a sword in years and would more than likely get himself killed trying to rid himself of Jerome.
But the truth was that he was a man in love with a woman who had to bargain with the devil and was now pledged to him simply to keep the peace.
It wasn’t fair, any of it, and Eric was trying to think of a way out of it.
A way that wouldn’t shame Isabel or get himself killed.
Had Douglas been in his situation, it would have been different.
Douglas was a knight, born and bred for battle.
He had killed his share of men, but always men who were a defined enemy.
Douglas was a man who valued life and valued those he loved greatly.
That meant he was a man with a soul and a conscience, and as much as he didn’t have a problem killing a man who was a threat or an enemy, he didn’t condone outright murder.
This coming from a man whose brothers, and father, were involved in the Executioner Knights.
The Executioner Knights were a sect of assassins and spies, men who worked for the good of England any way they had to.
Originally, William Marshal, the first Earl of Pembroke, had organized the guild to help him in his behind-the-scenes struggles with, and for, the crown, and he had kept the group a secret.
The Executioner Knights helped him keep the kingdom solvent against foreign threats and, in the case of King John, even a king who sometimes was the enemy of his own people.
Christopher, Peter, Roi, and Myles were all Executioner Knights.
They had done some very unsavory things.
Even Curtis had been involved from time to time, but Christopher had purposely kept Douglas and Westley away from the Executioner Knights.
They had been small children during the time of his heavy involvement, and as his sons grew older, perhaps he was only willing to lend the guild just a few of his sons.
But Douglas and Westley had been kept out of it.
That never bothered Douglas until now. He wished he had the assassin instinct like his father and brothers and even his brother-in-law, husband to his eldest sister, Christin.
Alexander de Sherrington was the greatest assassin the world had ever seen.
Douglas was coming to wish he’d had some of the training that Alexander had, because if he did, he would have taken care of Eric’s problem easily.
Even though he didn’t have the training, however, he know someone who did.
Right under his nose.
But he would have to think carefully about unleashing that kind of power.
“I understand,” he said after a moment. “But you cannot challenge him. That is out of the question.”
Eric knew that. The once-skilled knight was only a clumsy has-been these days. Ashamed, and defeated, he returned his attention to the window. “Then it is over,” he said. “Isabel will bear the children of another man and I will have to live with that for the rest of my life.”
Douglas stood beside him, also looking out over the bailey. “There are other ways of handling this situation that don’t involve a challenge,” he said quietly. “If you want to spare Isabel a marriage to Jerome, then you must be clever about it.”
Eric looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Douglas shrugged. “Accidents, for example,” he said. “Accidents happen all of the time. I am not advocating that you put him in front of a team of wild horses, but think of it this way… Something far subtler would be equally effective.”
He had Eric’s interest. “Like what?”
Douglas pondered the question for a moment.
“For example, if you were to take him on a tour of what will be his new property,” he said.
“If he is to be the next Earl of Axminster, then he must inspect his domain. Take him to the wall because the view is better from there. There is a section of the parapet that is low, barely to a man’s knees, and it would be nothing at all to give de Honiton an ‘accidental’ shove that sends him over the wall and to his death below. ”
Eric’s eyes widened. “Do you think it will work?”
Douglas shrugged. “I think if Jerome goes to the wall, anything can happen.”
A soft knock on the solar door interrupted them and they turned to see Mira entering.
Dressed in a simple gown the color of heather and with her blonde hair neatly braided, she looked worlds better than she had last night.
Other than a big bruise on her clavicle and scabbed hands, the signs of last night’s struggle were minimal.
To Douglas, she looked like an angel.
“My lords,” she said, dipping into a practiced curtsy. “I’ve come to see Lady Isabel, but I see she is not here.”
Smiling at her, Douglas came away from the wall. “Nay, she is not, my lady,” he said. “She has gone to rest. She did not sleep all night.”
Mira was gazing at Douglas with the same expression he had—giddy and sweet.
It was clear how enamored the two were with one another.
“Then I am glad she has finally gone to bed,” she said.
“I suppose I should see to the young women and to tonight’s meal, then.
I can make myself useful until Lady Isabel awakens. ”
“The young women are in their small solar, I believe,” Eric said. “I saw them there earlier. Davina and Helen were with them.”
That left the obvious question. “And Astoria?” Mira asked. “Where is she?”
“Gone,” Eric said simply. “She has been sent home. You need not worry about her ever again, my lady. She has gone home.”
That brought obvious relief to Mira. “I see,” she said, struggling not to shout for joy. “In that case, mayhap things will go back to normal around here. I will join Davina and Helen and the other young women. Thank you, Sir Eric.”
With a lingering smile at Douglas, she departed the chamber and headed off to find Isabel’s wards. Douglas watched her go, fixating his gaze on the shapely curve of her torso, before turning to Eric.
“Now,” he said in a low voice. “Where were we?”
Eric’s exhausted face reflected the new determination he was feeling. “I do not know where de Honiton is, but I will find him and invite him to the battlements to introduce him to Axminster,” he said. “It is a good plan, Douglas. When de Honiton is on the wall, I will do what needs to be done.”
“Would you like me to help you?”
Eric appreciated the offer greatly, but he put his hand on Douglas’ arm. “This is my fight, Douglas,” he muttered. “You have given me the idea, but I will see it through. It is my love he is trying to take. I will be the one to stop him.”
Douglas wasn’t in agreement. “This is my fight, too,” he said.
“Isabel made the sacrifice to keep de Honiton from harassing me and my family. She said it herself. I am part of this whether or not you want me to be, so I will meet you on the battlements. Though I do not readily advocate what we are about to do, in this case, I will make an exception. De Honiton deserves all of this with his threats. What he and his vile son have done has affected all of us.”
Eric nodded reluctantly. “Very well,” he said. “If you feel strongly about it.”
“I do,” Douglas said. “I will not let him get away with this. Isabel does not deserve it.”
Eric smiled weakly. “Did you think you would have such an opinion six weeks ago when you first came to Axminster?”
Douglas snorted. “I was ready to be done with the lot of you,” he said, quickly sobering. “But not now. Now we are friends. We are bonded by that, until the end.”
Eric was clearly touched. “Thank you, Douglas,” he said, grasping the man’s arm for a quick squeeze. “I am grateful.”
With that, he headed out of the solar to find Jerome just as Jonathan was coming into the keep with Davyss in tow. The two of them eyed Eric as the man stormed past them and out of the keep, but they headed straight for Douglas.
“What is going on, Douglas?” Jonathan asked, clearly upset. “Why is de Honiton going around telling the Axminster soldiers that he is to be their new lord?”
Douglas rolled his eyes. “Christ,” he muttered. “Is he truly saying that?”
“He is.”
Douglas pointed to the solar. “Go inside,” he said. “You are just the man I want to see.”
Jonathan charged into the solar, followed by Davyss and finally Douglas. It was Douglas who shut the door as Jonathan went to the wine pitcher, draining what was left of it.
“It seems that we have a problem,” Douglas said. “What I tell you now does not leave this chamber. Is that clear?”
Jonathan nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as Davyss went over to the pitcher with the futile hope of seeing if anything was left.
Douglas was focused on Jonathan.
“I will make this brief,” he said in a low voice. “De Honiton has backed Isabel into a corner with his threats.”
Jonathan frowned. “What threats?”
Douglas grunted in exasperation. “Where to begin?” he said. “The man demanded that I be turned over to him because I killed his son, but Isabel refused.”
“You did not kill his son.”
Douglas put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.
“You know that and I know that,” he muttered.
“So does Davyss. But if you think I am going to let Lady Mira take the brunt of de Honiton’s anger, then you do not know me at all.
From this point forward, all you know is that we came upon Raymond assaulting the lady and I smashed his head in with a rock. Davyss? Do you hear me?”
Standing dejectedly with the empty wine pitcher in his hand, Davyss nodded. “Aye, Douglas.”