Chapter Eleven
London, England
The Tower of London
Prince John sat in his silk and oaken chair, a chair he likened to be the throne of England.
His dirty black hair was stuck to his oily face as he watched Ralph Fitz Walter from across the polished and well–used table that was one of the centerpieces of his lavish solar at Windsor Castle.
His father had used this table. To John, it reeked of power.
He could still see his father, Henry the Second, standing over it, yelling about something or another.
It seemed to him that his father had always been yelling.
“She has arrived,” Ralph said with a leering smile.
John was distracted from the ghost of his father. “She? Who?”
“Lady Dustin Barringdon de Lohr,” Ralph enunciated every syllable with relish. “She’s in the baron’s chambers with only one knight as a guard.”
John, hit with the news, sat forward in his chair. “De Lohr’s wife? How damned fortunate for us.”
“Hmpf, fortunate indeed, sire,” Ralph agreed. “I still believe we would have been successful in a kidnap attempt had you so allowed. She had only twenty-five men-at-arms and three knights as escort.”
“Mayhap,” John waved him off. “But de Lohr was very vague with where she had been, and why she was delayed. I will not risk men with such scant information. But she is here now and I am pleased.”
Ralph nodded, scratching the louse that had just bit him on the back. “Shall I bring her here, sire?”
John sat back in his chair thoughtfully. “One knight, did you say? We can get around one knight.” His gaze lingered on Ralph a moment longer. “Have we heard anything from your spies at Lioncross Abbey?”
“Not a word, sire,” Ralph said, a bit embarrassed. “I have sent out a few good men to follow up with them. It shan’t be long.”
John nodded slowly, still in thought. Finally, he took a deep breath. “It is probably of no importance now, considering de Lohr and his wife are here,” he said “Aye, bring her to me. I would meet this woman.”
“And de Lohr?” Ralph wanted to know.
John shrugged. “What of him? I will tell him I simply could not wait to meet his wife,” he said. “I won’t touch her, at least not today. So tell me, Ralph, how goes preparations for the tourney in two days?”
The subject changed and Ralph went with it.
“Nearly complete, my lord,” he said. “The lists have been built and the banners are being raised as we speak. It should be a grand spectacle. Oh, and sire, another thing, Marcus Burton was one of the knights who escorted Lady de Lohr to London. ’Tis said he serves de Lohr now. ”
“Burton?” John looked surprised. “Damnation, I didn’t even know he had returned. Serving de Lohr, did you say?”
Ralph watched John’s face twist with frustration, but the man turned to his wine and said no more. Ralph, feeling the conversation over, moved for the door but John stopped him.
“Ralph, why did I not know Burton had returned?” he asked evenly.
Ralph swallowed, John was bloody well angry when he used that sweet tone. “Because I was not told, sire,” he replied steadily. “I would have informed you immediately, as you know.”
John was contemplating his gold cup. “I would have Burton champion me. You will relay the order, Ralph. I want Burton bearing my colors at the tourney. If he and de Lohr fight side by side, they will tear through the other participants like a knife through butter and there will be no chance to fell de Lohr.”
“Burton will not fell de Lohr, sire,” Ralph said frankly. “You know that as well as I.”
John’s head came up. “As my champion he will do as he is ordered.”
Ralph sighed. “Sire, I am forced to remind you that de Lohr commands the fighting men, as per Richard’s command.”
John suddenly slammed his fists on the table. “But knights are of a different breed. They are not commanded as the common troops.”
“But they fall under the same provision,” Ralph argued back. “Knights are sworn above all to the king, which means de Lohr has command of their loyalty.”
John threw his cup, standing up so fast that his chair fell over. His ugly face was red with fury.
“How is it that a lowly baron commands all of the fighting men in England?” he seethed. “I am a prince! I command England and England cowers at my feet, as it should. Now get out of here and do my bidding. Bring me de Lohr’s slut, and then find Burton and inform him of his new duties.”
Ralph bowed slowly, eyeing his liege as he quit the room. John, his nostrils flaring with humiliation and anger, forced himself to calm. He picked up his chair and sat slowly, forcibly.
All would be right, eventually, he told himself. To be rid of de Lohr at this point was his primary goal, and rule of England second. And, hopefully, the Lion’s Claw’s wife would provide an easy end to her husband’s claim.
*
Sir Thomas Dudley was in a panic.
It was all he could do to keep from running full-bore to the tournament arena where he knew Christopher would be. As it was, he was jogging at a rapid pace in spite of nearly one hundred pounds worth of armor. Sweat dotted his dark brow.
The arena to the east of the castle was crowded with knights on horseback, men on foot, practicing for the approaching games.
It was a vast area with newly built lists that men were still hammering on.
Dud immediately spied David’s blond head on the opposite side of the arena near the horse corrals, and ran straight to him.
David was with Edward, Leeton and young Trent. It was obvious they had been practicing heavily, coated with perspiration, and now stood at rest before the next bout. When Dud came racing up, crashing into the fence in his haste, all of the men looked at him with alarm.
“Dud!” David exclaimed sharply. “Why aren’t you with Dustin?”
Dud was beside himself. “Where’s the baron?”
David grabbed him. “He is by the barracks. Answer me, dammit, is something wrong?”
Dud’s faded green eyes focused on David. “Sir Ralph came for Lady Dustin not fifteen minutes ago with an entire company of soldiers. He was polite, but there was no mistaking the message he gave me; turn the lady over to him or the soldiers would seriously disable me. I had no choice, David.”
“Jesus Christ,” David hissed even as Leeton took off for the barracks on a dead run. “Why didn’t you go with her?”
“Think about it,” Dud said, as he removed his helmet and threw it to the ground in anger.
“If I did, then there would be no one to inform Christopher of what had happened. And if I had refused to let the lady go with him, then I would probably now be drowning in my own blood, which brings us back to my first point. Someone had to tell Chris.”
David understood and paced about like a caged animal. There was naught else to do but wait for his brother. He knew better than anyone that Ralph was a dead man.
Christopher and Marcus crossed the compound and headed toward the castle faster than anyone had ever seen men run in armor. David and the others, seeing them running in the distance with Leeton trying to keep pace, ran after them. The group came together just as they were entering a side gate.
“Chris,” David called as his brother charged into the inner courtyard. “What are you going to do?”
Christopher was so angry he was white. He stopped running long enough to collect himself and catch his breath, facing his six faithful knights.
“I am going to find her first, and then I am going to kill Ralph,” he said evenly.
“I was under the impression that he took her to the prince, my lord,” Dud said. “I am truly sorry to have failed you in this.”
“You didn’t fail me, Dud,” Christopher said shortly. “To have gotten yourself killed would have been to fail me. I have no doubt my wife can hold her own against the prince until I get there.”
He turned and charged headlong into the castle with the knights behind him, creating a chaotic scene as they raced down the halls, nearly running people down in their haste.
Soldiers on guard saw the Lion’s Claw running and began joining their liege.
By the time Christopher mounted the massive staircase leading to the second floor, there were no less than fifty soldiers following him.
Had he not been so concerned for his wife, he would have been pleased with the show of loyalty.
John’s apartments were in the royal wing.
Christopher and his men blew past the honor guard, who made a feeble attempt to stop them but went ignored.
They tore up the fragile woolen carpets that led to John’s chambers.
Marcus and David barked orders to the soldiers to cover the exits and to position themselves.
Christopher, without a word, kicked in the prince’s door.
He burst into the room, having no idea what he would find. He was therefore completely shocked to see his wife sitting opposite John, a goblet of wine in her hand and a plate of sugared confections between them.
Dustin’s half-full goblet clattered to the floor, splashing out its contents. He could see by her face that he had scared the hell out of her, but no matter. He knew John and knew what the man was capable of, and he was vastly relieved to see that she was untouched in any way.
“Chris!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
He ignored her and faced off against John. “Why is my wife here, unescorted?”
John sat back easily in his chair, a thin smile on his lips. “We are enjoying one another’s company, baron. Certainly there is no harm in that. And in answer to your question, my apartments are full of soldiers willing to protect a young woman’s virtue.”
Christopher was having a difficult time controlling himself. He walked over to his wife, his gaze never leaving the prince. Dustin, confused and a little frightened, watched his movements anxiously. When he stood next to her, he finally tore his eyes away from John long enough to look her over.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am fine,” she said, a timid smile on her lips. “The prince and I were talking of my father, and….”