Chapter Nineteen #2
Big, ugly, nasty Gerard was John’s attack dog.
It was true that Christin had wounded him, but he’d had a physic dress the wound and little else.
It had stopped bleeding, anyway, and that meant he resumed his duties even if he was feeling weak.
He had a particular message for de Lohr, anyway, and would not be stopped.
“Your daughter stabbed me,” he said to Christopher. “She rammed a dagger into my gut. Did you raise such a ruthless bitch?”
Christopher looked Gerard over. “You do not look any worse for the wear,” he said. “And if you call my daughter a bitch again, you shall pay the price.”
Gerard didn’t have the sense that most men had. He only knew violence and all of the things that went along with it. That was his world, his life, his vocation. In his mind, there was nothing else.
“Who is going to make me?” he said. “You? I am not afraid you, de Lohr. Everyone else is, but I am not. You cannot harm me.”
Christopher’s gaze lingered on the man for a moment before returning his attention to the king. “I will not speak with filth,” he said. “Call back your dog before he makes the situation worse.”
John was indecisive, which was usual when Sean wasn’t around.
Sean would whisper in his ear, telling him what to do or what to think, and that was what he would do.
Or other courtiers would do the same, as John was not without an abundance of people around him to make suggestions or give advice.
But there was no Sean in the room at the moment, or other courtiers, so his hesitation emboldened Gerard.
“Out, de Lohr,” the man snarled, unsheathing his weapon. “Get out or I will make you regret your refusal.”
Christopher’s sword came out, but David was faster.
Even in his youth, there was no one faster with a sword, and David charged Gerard with lightning speed.
Gerard barely had time to lift his sword before David was on top of him, shoving him back with a staggering blow and causing him to lose his balance.
The armed guards in the room began to move to help Gerard, but Peter and Christopher turned on them, holding them off as William drew his sword to protect the king.
Startled and afraid, John began screaming as William put himself in front of the king, backing the man up, away from the fighting.
“Cease!” John cried. “Gerard, do you hear me? Cease! David, stop your attack!”
But David wasn’t listening. He’d had enough of his brother being insulted by the king and then by Gerard, who was unworthy to even be in the same room as his brother as far as he was concerned.
Gerard gave David a good fight for a minute or so before the wound to his side began bleeding again, and paining him greatly, and he found himself on one knee as David beat him down, finally knocking the sword from his hand.
As David grabbed his hair and went in for the kill, William barked.
“David!” he boomed. “You will not kill him, do you hear? Leave him be and back away.”
David was poised to ram his sword right down Gerard’s throat.
It would have been so easy to do it. But he listened to William, knowing any refusal would not be well met, so he let Gerard go and backed away.
As he moved off, he kicked Gerard’s sword all the way across the chamber, far away so Gerard couldn’t rise up and attack him again.
He returned to Christopher and Peter, who had eight of the king’s guard cornered.
As the de Lohr men decided what to do with a collection of soldiers, William turned to John.
“For God’s sake, John,” he hissed. “If you do not want to see England destroyed, then send word to Sean and have him return Christin to Norwich. You have no choice.”
John was torn between fear and defiance. “You are only now back in my good graces, William, or have you forgotten?”
William shook his head. Considering that John spoke the truth, and William had spent the past couple of years abroad because of his contentious relationship with John, he was well aware that his presence in England now was fragile. He was home and he wanted to remain.
“I have not.”
“Then you do not give the commands, William.”
“In this case, I do. Do as I say or I will let de Lohr destroy you.”
John was beginning to twitch again from anger. “Do your duty and control him,” he said. “If you do not and he rises against me, the loss of England will be your fault.”
William lifted his eyebrows. “Unfortunately, you probably believe that,” he said.
“But the truth is that your cruelty and pettiness is what will destroy it. I have recently come from Ramsbury Castle where a French spy foretold of a threat against you. She called it a threat from within. I am starting to think that you are the only true threat to England, John. Mayhap it is you who will finally destroy this country.”
John pulled away from him, glancing at Gerard, who was just starting to get to his feet. The man was pale, his lower abdomen bloody. John looked around the chamber, at what was happening, and took a defiant stance.
“Get out and take the de Lohrs with you,” he said to William. “I am going back to London. I will not stay where I feel as if my life is threatened.”
William watched him as he backed away, heading for a doorway that led to the bedchamber.
“Your life is threatened by your own doing,” William said. “Save England, John. Recall de Lara. The fate of your country is in your hands.”
John didn’t reply. He retreated into the bedchamber with Gerard stumbling after him, and that was the end of it. With a heavy sigh, William turned to Christopher and David and Peter, who still had the royal guards cornered. Sword still in his hand, William came up behind them.
“Chris,” he said quietly. “Get out. Take your son and your brother with you. And get your men out of the keep. Old Daveigh does not deserve the turmoil we have brought him, so be quick about it. We are departing this place.”
Christopher didn’t even look at him, nor did he sheathe his sword. But he left, which was about all William could hope for at the moment as he watched David and, finally, Peter follow him. William remained, however, covering their retreat before quitting the chamber after them.
God help him, he had such a mess on his hands that he didn’t even know where to start.
William knew he had to get Christopher and Peter and David out of Norwich and he had to make apologies to Old Daveigh.
But he found himself praying that his agents following Sean and Christin would catch up and wrangle Christin away from Sean.
And given there was some emotion involved now with Alexander and Christin, he seriously wondered if Sean was going to survive.
So many unknowns.
The danger, for England, is already here. It is right under your nose.
That’s what the spy had told Christin. William hadn’t been wrong when he told the king that he was his own worst enemy.
The danger, for England, was John.