Chapter Thirteen #2
A burly man stood guard and eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your business here, bloke?” he asked with a deep voice.
Devlin cleared his throat nervously, avoiding eye contact. “Just here for a pint.”
The large man moved to stand directly in front of Devlin, crossed his arms in front of him, and replied, “Pub’s closed.”
Devlin looked past him and retorted, “Looks to me like ale is being served.”
The doorman took a deep breath, leaned closer to Devlin, and said in a menacing whisper, “Look, you bloody bast-”
“Freedom whispers,” Devlin interrupted, the words barely audible.
The man’s stern expression softened as he nodded. He stood back and gestured for Devlin to enter.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior filled with the hushed tones of secretive conversations.
Devlin stepped inside, his senses heightened as he scanned the room.
He quickly assessed the layout of the pub, how many men were present, and what his exit options were should he need to leave in a hurry.
Worn wooden tables filled the space, and each held a flickering lantern that cast shadows on the wall.
Surprisingly, the floor was covered with unevenly cut, flat stones, but it hadn’t seen a broom in quite some time.
A few of the pub’s patrons turned to watch him as he walked in, but no one moved to stop him.
The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Devlin could feel the weight of the stares from the conspirators as they stopped talking.
He wondered what secrets were being exchanged and what Lord Edmond’s role was in it all.
The pub’s noise faded as Devlin approached a table in the back. Two men entered the room through a door opposite the entrance. All the men in the room were quiet.
“Freedom whispers,” the two men said.
The crowd shouted back, “Freedom prevails!”
And then a litany of curses against the king followed from the mouths of the men. A few mugs flew across the room, resulting in a new line of cursing from the barkeep, who must have been the pub’s owner.
If he’d had any doubts about the opinions of this group about the monarchy, he didn’t now.
A burly man with a bright red beard walked behind the two men who had just entered and stood at the head of a long table. His sharp eyes looked at the patrons of each table.
The murmurs died down as the participants acknowledged the new arrival. Devlin felt a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as he took a seat at a small table crammed into the very back corner of the room. He was careful to keep his face concealed in the shadows.
The bearded man’s gaze lingered on Devlin for a moment, suspicion flashing in his eyes, but then he turned his attention back to the proceedings.
The room hummed with low conversation. Devlin listened carefully and caught snippets of various conversations—mostly complaints about the king and how more needed to be done.
Devlin strained to hear more of the conversation, and his ears quickly tuned to the betrayal around him.
Soon, the red-bearded man, Robert, was his name, stood, and his voice rose above the others.
He outlined a plan to steal resources from the crown to strengthen the Parliamentarian forces.
He heard Edmond’s name more than once as treasonous plans unfurled one after another.
It wasn’t long before Devlin realized the depth of Capell’s betrayal. Not only was he collaborating with the Parliamentarians to oust the king, but these conspirators didn’t know that he was also playing them for fools.
From the ledgers, whose initialed entries now made sense, it seemed both sides were paying Edmond for information that benefited no one.
Devlin’s hand clenched into a fist beneath the table as he listened to the damning revelations.
He struggled to maintain his composure when he learned how Edmond fed false information to the king, for which he paid handsomely, and then most of that money would go to Robert and his cohorts.
Money was power, and funds bought weapons, information, and loyalty.
Devlin was shocked to hear to what lengths these men would go to remove Charles from the throne.
But at least now, he had proof of Edmond’s collusion and betrayal.
As the meeting neared its end, Robert rose from his seat, and his guards flanked his position. Beads of sweat popped up across his brow, which eventually flowed down his cheek. However, as Robert prepared to exit, he paused, and his booming voice cut through the air.
“Who are you?” An accusatory outstretched finger pointed directly at Devlin.
All turned toward Devlin, and a chill ran down his spine. Robert’s sharp gaze bore into him, and the room fell silent. Every breath was like an eternity as Devlin searched for the right words.
“I’m just a-a farmer,” he stammered, trying to maintain his disguise. “I overheard talk of this gathering and thought the cause was noble. I wanted to offer my assistance.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed. The room seemed to hold its breath as Devlin awaited the man’s response.
“I have never seen you before. How did you get in? After all, this is an “invitation only” affair.” He laughed menacingly.
“I heard about your meeting here from an acquaintance of mine. Roland Kirkeby.” Devlin exhaled but was poised to run. He hoped Alden had his sword and the horses ready. He had no idea if this man knew of Kirkeby or not or even if Kirkeby was a traitor like Capell.
Robert consulted with a few of the men at the table, and after a moment, said loudly, “This Kirkeby, I do not know. But my men say he is an associate of Lord Edmond Capell and not a very well-liked one at that. So, you’re either a brave fool or a cunning spy.
I will consider you the former as no spy would enter here and expect to make it out alive. ”
Devlin nodded, a sense of relief washing over him, and he stayed where he was, sipping a mug of ale as the gathering dispersed.
He observed the conspirators as they left one by one.
Robert finally made his way into the connecting room, and before the door closed, Devlin saw that he sat at another table.
It seemed like there was another meeting—a private one this time.
Devlin stood nonchalantly, left the pub, and then immediately circled around to the back of the building, where he quietly inched his way over to the window of the room Robert had entered.
He listened carefully. What he heard hit him like a fist in the gut.
The men inside didn’t talk long, and when they returned to the pub’s main room for more ale, Devlin exhaled and moved quickly back to where Alden was waiting.
The weight of the information of Sir Edmond Capell’s treachery sat heavily on his shoulders. The moon now hung low, casting a silvery glow on the few cobblestones on the path not covered with dirt. In the shadows, his horse pawed the ground in anticipation.
Devlin approached his friend. “Alden,” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, “I learned all I needed to. Capell played a dangerous game. He betrayed the king. He fed our liege false information, got paid for it, and then funneled the money to these blokes. And that’s not all.”
Alden leaned forward. “Not all? Goodness, man! There’s more?”
With a satisfied grin, Devlin recounted the fabricated information Robert had concocted to deceive King Charles I.
“Edmond was to tell the king about plans to assassinate a royal advisor by a foreign power aligning with their cause. But Edmond was also to tell the king that there were rumors of strife and division amongst the Parliamentarian leaders, to make them appear weak. Of course, with Edmond missing, this information never got to the king. What these blokes didn’t realize was that Edmond was lying to both sides.
He was taking money from the king to expose Robert and his group of traitors while taking money from them as well.
He was feeding both sides incorrect information and pocketing some of the money.
Both sides lost men because of Edmond’s greed. ”
Alden’s eyes widened. “This betrayal goes beyond what I could ever have thought Edmond capable of. I wouldn’t have thought him smart enough to pull off such a scheme,” he whispered, clenching his jaw in anger.
“Yes, and we can use this to expose Capell’s true intentions.
But here’s the worst part. These traitors think that Lady Rosalind fully supports their traitorous plans.
Edmond gave them money. Rosalind’s money!
If these idiots kept records, Lady Rosalind would be directly tied to this faction.
We must get back to the manor house immediately.
Kelley must return to the palace as soon as possible. ”
Alden nodded and moved to mount his horse, but then stopped with one foot in the stirrup. “Hold, just a second. Lady Rosalind doesn’t have any money. If she did, she’d have gotten away from Edmond long ago. Or, at the least, not be dressed in rags all the time.”
“You are correct, friend. This has been done without Rosalind’s knowledge, but now she could be charged with treason.”
The two men mounted their steeds and reined their horses toward Capell lands. Hooves hammered the narrow road leading from the village as they galloped toward the manor house as fast as they dared.
Upon reaching the manor, they found the clerk still awake in the study, surrounded by Capell’s ledgers and notebooks. Though it was late, his eyes were bright, and he rose from his chair when he saw them.
“Do you have news, Sir Devlin?” Edward inquired with a tone that indicated her expected news but with an undercurrent of genuine concern.
Devlin wasted no time. “Capell betrayed the king, and we have evidence to expose his dealings. He fed false information to His Majesty and used the funds to line his pockets, all while weakening the monarchy.”
Kelley raised an eyebrow. “Evidence, you say?”