Chapter Six
After the meeting with Edward, Aidric was going to resurrect a tradition.
The conversation with the king was something that had been lingering with Aidric since it occurred.
Given the very real fact that Edward had no intention of disbanding the Six, there was a renewed sense of duty with the men.
There was also relief. They were no longer in limbo, wondering about their jobs, and that seemed to ease everyone considerably.
Even though Edward was expecting the Six to evolve in his service, and the evolution he suggested wasn’t outlandish or unexpected, Aidric still felt loyalty to the original intent of the Guard of Six.
He intended to keep that spirit.
Therefore, in a show of unification, he was going to resurrect their original standard.
When the unit was formed years ago, Henry had given them their own banner—a crimson background with a yellow shield and three blue swords.
Originally, Henry had wanted to have six swords, each representing one of his men, but that made the standard too crowded, so he settled on three swords to signify unity.
In the beginning, they had tunics that bore their standard and they wore them proudly, but over the years, they’d transitioned from those tunics to more ceremonial wear than ones they wore every day.
Eventually, they stopped wearing them altogether in favor of becoming less obvious about who they were and what their duties were—as opposed to shouting it to the world and possibly making them, and Henry, a target.
But Aidric was going to revive that old standard.
It was time.
With three of the senior members of the Guard of Six now officially either former or only part-time members, that made Aidric the most senior member of the group and, by that account, its leader.
Things were going to be different under his management because he had a different group of men now.
Two veterans in Britt and Dirk, but new members in Stefan, Orion, Bennet, and now Gerard.
In his opinion, those men needed to feel as if they were part of something, with a group of like-minded individuals, and the new tunics were going to create that atmosphere.
At least, Aidric hoped so.
Tomorrow evening, a feast was being held at Westminster Palace that was meant to welcome Edward back to England as its new king, and the resurrected Guard of Six standards were going to be on full display.
As Edward had said, there were no true allies.
Vigilance was the order of the day. In this case, Aidric felt it was very important to show the restless barons and enemies of Edward that the monarch had a group of highly trained men at his side, more than willing to protect him, and any move against the king would be met with deadly force.
Those crimson-and-blue-and-yellow tunics were going to convey that message, but in order to wear them, they actually had to have seven of them made.
Surely that wouldn’t be a difficult thing to do.
And Aidric was going to find an expert.
“Where are we going, Aidric?”
The question came from Britt. He was riding slightly behind Aidric, followed by Dirk and Bennet. Stefan, Orion, and Gerard were back at Westminster, cleaning and polishing the weaponry they’d be wearing on their bodies during the feast.
Everyone had a task this day.
Especially Aidric.
“To the finest dressmaker in town,” he said, answering Britt’s question. “I have a task for her.”
“What task?”
Aidric had been deliberately quiet about his desire to don the Guard of Six standards again, and probably would have kept it a secret until the actual feast, but he had a reason for bringing Britt and Dirk and Bennet along—he needed their measurements.
The rest of the group was mostly the same size, so all seven tunics could be easily made.
“Since you are asking, I shall tell you,” he said. “Do you remember the colors that Henry had commissioned for us when he formed our unit?”
Britt’s brow furrowed. He had to consider the question for a moment before he realized what Aidric meant. “Are you speaking of the tri-sword shield?” he said.
“Aye.”
“Of course I remember it. I think I still have my old tunic, somewhere.”
“We haven’t worn it for years,” Aidric said. “But we are going to start again. I am going to the finest seamstress in town to have her make tunics for us to wear at the feast tomorrow night.”
Britt’s eyebrows lifted. “Tunics?” he repeated. “For tomorrow?”
Aidric nodded. “I realize it is a short amount of time, but this seamstress is very popular,” he said. “Surely she has women whom she employs. If each lady sews one tunic, then it will not take them any time at all.”
Britt eyed him. “You are optimistic.”
“Mayhap. But it will be done.”
“She may have other commissions to do,” Britt said. “With the king’s feast on the morrow, surely she has commissions from many noblewomen.”
“Our commission will take precedence.”
“You are confident.”
“I wield the name of the king,” Aidric said, grinning. “No noblewoman’s commission can top that.”
Britt didn’t argue with him. They just kept plodding along, through the busy street, until they reached the Street of the Merchants.
There was a smaller avenue off that street where seamstresses worked and the moment they turned onto it, they caught sight of a yellow-and-white carriage and an entire array of soldiers and fancily dressed horses. It looked like a parade.
Aidric drew his horse to a halt.
“Cambridge,” he muttered.
The others drew up beside him, beholding the vision of the expensive carriage and well-dressed men bearing the yellow and silver of the Archbishop of Cambridge. To fighting men, or men of the church, it was one of the most recognizable standards in all of England.
And possibly one of the most unwelcome.
“That man travels like a king,” Britt said in disapproval. “I heard he was in London, but this is the first I’ve seen of him.”
“Who is it?” Bennet asked.
Britt glanced at him. “You’ve been spending your time away from London until recently,” he said. “Have you not heard about the fabulously wealthy Archbishop of Cambridge?”
Bennet shrugged. “I’ve heard of him, of course,” he said. “I’ve had no interaction with the man, ever. He never came to the marches where I was.”
“He’d not sully himself so,” Dirk said, snorting. “The man has more money than God and spends his time either in London, at his family’s townhome, or in Lincolnshire at his family’s castle of Ruskington. His family owns most of Lincolnshire.”
“A family empire built on greed and scandal,” Aidric put in with irony.
Britt and Dirk nodded. “True,” Britt said. “He spends most of his time in London and there has never been a man who has hated the royal family more than Clarence de Fulbourne, Archbishop of Cambridge. When Edward spoke of enemies, he most definitely meant Cambridge.”
Bennet nodded, his gaze on the gloriously decorated carriage.
“I know,” he said. When the other three knights glanced at him, he smiled weakly.
“My being away from London does not mean I am not aware of the politics of England. I know that Cambridge is a spoiled whelp of a man who has tried to rule Lincolnshire and Nottinghamshire and other counties after Henry’s death.
I’m well aware he saw Edward’s absence as an opportunity for himself. Everyone knows that.”
“Did you also know that he has a Jewel?” Dirk asked.
Bennet’s brow furrowed. “What jewel?”
“A Jewel,” Dirk said. “He is in possession of one of the Seven Jewels of London.”
Bennet looked surprised. “Truly?” he said. “A prince of the church has a prized courtesan?”
Dirk nodded confidently. “He is in possession of the Pearl,” he said.
“No one really knows what he does with her, considering an archbishop is supposed to adhere to a vow of celibacy, but he has a highly trained courtesan in his possession and has for about three years. Draw your own conclusions as to what he does with her.”
Bennet scratched his chin in thought. “I do not have to guess,” he said flatly. “But it is Cambridge. He can do as he pleases. From what I’ve heard, he always has. He’s the son of the Earl of Gainsborough, a man known to believe he was above the law of the land.”
“He was the Gainsborough heir,” Dirk said.
When the others looked at him, he shrugged.
“Do not forget that I started out my career as a knight with the intention of becoming a priest. I am the second son of my father, with no chance of inheriting, so the priesthood seemed like a solid path. I know about men like Cambridge. I will be honest when I say that he is not genuinely part of the church. Like his father, Cambridge believes himself above the laws of God and man.”
“Yet he is allowed to remain an archbishop,” Aidric said. “No one challenges him. Not even the Archbishop of Canterbury. Why not?”
Dirk shook his head. “Fear, mayhap,” he said.
“Cambridge is very powerful. Sometimes it is simply better to let those men do as they please. Eventually, they will bring about their own ruin. Greed has a way of doing that. But now that Edward is back in England, I would say that Cambridge is a man to watch. He cannot be too happy about the return of the king.”
That was more than likely an understatement.
All eyes drifted back to the elaborately decorated carriage with the silk banners snapping in the breeze as they considered the implications to that statement.
In a country of men who could be a potential threat to the newly returned king, Dirk’s comment just put the Archbishop of Cambridge at the top of the list.
Anything was possible.
“Happy or not, he will be watched just like anyone else who has been opposed to Edward in the past,” Aidric finally said.
“We are not going to take any chances with the king’s safety.
Regardless, the man’s presence is not going to keep me out of Adelie’s stall, so I am going in. Those who wish to join me may do so.”