CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Farringdon House
Maxton couldn’t stand it.
He’d been away from Andressa for all of one day, and he was longing after her as he’d never longed for anyone in his life.
The morning of the Feast Day of St. Blitha had dawned surprisingly bright, in stark contrast from the heavy mist they’d had the day before, and for most days over the past few months. But something in the weather pattern had changed today and the sky was clear.
It was a beautiful sunrise that came up from the east, casting golden rays onto the land. Inside the manor home, however, there was a sense of purpose as men prepared for the coming day. Much had happened, and much still needed to happen, and there was a sense of anticipation because so much was at stake. It wasn’t just a king’s life, but also the life of a certain pledge who had risked her life to make sure their task was successful.
They didn’t want to fail her.
The king had gone hunting in the forest of Windsor the day before, as planned, and even though the mist had been heavy well into the afternoon, he hadn’t scrapped his intentions. He’d gone out with his courtiers and military advisors, and they’d hunted for several hours while Maxton, Kress, Achilles, Alexander, Cullen, Bric, and Dashiell had shadowed the group from the recesses of the heavy foliage.
It wasn’t that anyone expected the nuns to make a move against the king out in the wilderness, but more as a preventative measure in case the information they’d received had been wrong and the nuns were the least of their worries. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Andressa; they knew she was telling the truth. But given that the assassins after the king were of the most unexpected kind, and it was quite possible there was more than one set of assassins, Maxton wanted to ensure they were ready for anything.
Purely a preventative measure.
But it had been an odd day for Maxton as he sat in the wet forest, with water dripping down his face as he listened to the cries of the king’s hunting party. After returning Andressa to St. Blitha the night before, he’d returned to Farringdon House and spent the entire night tossing and turning, dreaming of a green-eyed pledge when he did happen to fall asleep. When he would awaken between dreams, it was to the realization that he had actually proposed marriage to the woman.
And she had actually accepted.
But he’d kept it to himself. He wasn’t sure how to tell Kress or Achilles, or anyone else for that matter. Not that they didn’t realize that something was going on between Maxton and the pale lass from St. Blitha; they would have had to have been deaf and blind not to realize there was something more than polite concern there. It was the fact that Maxton simply wasn’t the marrying kind, or so he’d thought.
As it so happened, he was wrong about that. The idea of marrying Andressa and settling down was as foreign to him as it was wonderful. He’d never hoped for a normal life as far as lives went, with a wife and heirs, so the idea that he might actually attain some peace and happiness had upended everything he’d ever known or thought about himself.
In a wonderful way, of course.
It had been a long day shadowing the king, who mostly remained under a tarp to stay dry while his advisors hunted out in the wet, and when they’d finally returned to Farringdon House that evening, Maxton was disappointed that Andressa wasn’t there, waiting for him. Somehow, he’d hoped that she would have been able to get away from St. Blitha to see him. He even thought about going over to the abbey that night, just to catch a glimpse of her, but decided against it because she would probably be asleep, anyway. He found great comfort in knowing he would see her on the feast day, and with the ending of the assassination threat against the king, he and Andressa could start their new life together.
She’d never have to go back to that devil’s den again.
Therefore, there was eagerness in his movements this morning and as he dressed in a tunic bearing the crimson and gold of the royal family that Sean had provided, he found himself smiling as he thought of all of the wonderful things he would buy Andressa when all of this madness was finished.
The truth of the matter was that Maxton had been smart when he’d left for the great Quest; he’d been one of the few Crusader knights who had been careful with his money. He’d only taken what he felt he needed, leaving the majority of it with a deposit banker in London, a man who held money for some of the nobility for safekeeping and charging a small fee to hold it.
While many knights lost their fortunes on crusade, Maxton hadn’t. In fact, when the battles were over and the Christian armies were heading back to their homes, Maxton and Kress and Achilles had capitalized on the situation and had taken jobs for wealthy lords in Europe, fighting their wars for them. All three of them had become quite wealthy from that venture, and whilst in Genoa, had deposited even more money with the banking system there. Being frugal men, and hating to spend their own wealth, they’d lived at The Lateran Palace while the Holy Father had paid their way.
Their hoards remained untouched.
Maxton hadn’t thought much about his money since that time because there hadn’t been a need, but now with the advent of a betrothed, he was thinking a good deal about it. He could easily get his money from the deposit banker in London, but getting it from the bankers in Genoa would take time. He was thinking that a trip after he and Andressa married would be in order, and he could take her to exotic places and buy her more clothing and jewels and finery than she could ever wear. The poor woman who had spent the past four years starving and living in rags would know luxury such as she could have never imagined.
He liked thinking about the things he could do for her.
A knock on his chamber door roused him from his thoughts. Nearly dressed, with the mail hood on and the tunic secure, Maxton opened the door to find Kress standing there, dressed exactly as he was. They were both in the regalia worn my men at arms and not seasoned knights, which was something of an insult for men of their station. Maxton cocked an eyebrow at the man.
“You look like the king’s stooge,” he commented. “’Tis shameful and degrading to be forced to wear this garb.”
Kress grinned. “It was your idea, you dolt.”
“I should be whipped.”
With that, he turned back into the chamber to collect his broadsword and Kress followed, snorting as he entered the room.
“I’ve often said the same thing,” he said. Then, he sobered. “Well, my friend. This day should prove interesting. Are you concerned?”
Maxton was fixing the leather belt at his waist. “For what?”
“For the pledge.”
Maxton’s movements slowed a little and he could feel his guard going down. Kress was the best friend he had in the world, outside of Achilles, but Achilles could often be judgmental about things. The man was a virtual volcano of angst sometimes, torn between his religious beliefs and what he did for a living, so somethings, he could be difficult to speak to.
But not Kress; the man understood how the world worked and didn’t put too much stock in a church that had proven too many times how very immoral it could be. He also understood Maxton; the two of them always communicated well. Therefore, Maxton was thinking seriously on his reply to Kress’ statement before answering.
“I must ask you something, Kress,” he said. “You will be honest with me.”
Kress leaned against the wardrobe built up against the wall. “I always am, Max. You know that.”
Maxton glanced up from his belt. “The meeting at The King’s Gout tavern two days ago,” he said quietly. “It was about me, wasn’t it?”
Kress’ smile faded completely. “It was.”
“What did you discuss?”
“The contention between you and The Marshal when it comes to the pledge from St. Blitha.”
Maxton wasn’t surprised to hear that. In fact, that was what he’d mostly expected to hear. “And did you come to a conclusion?”
Kress shook his head. “There was no conclusion to come to,” he said. “We discussed how you have changed. The man who spent those months in the prisons of Baux and then returned to England is not the same man we have known all these years. We have never known you to be confrontational with a man of higher rank, and most especially not with someone like William Marshal.”
Maxton kept his head down, adjusting the sheath on his belt. “He is a stubborn man,” he said. “And I do not care what his credentials are, in some instances, he is wrong.”
Kress smiled ironically, shaking his head. “We are speaking of William Marshal, Max,” he said. “Mayhap he has been wrong in some instances, but he is still the greatest knight England has ever seen. His accomplishments are without question.”
“De Lohr is better.”
That caught Kress off-guard. “What’s that?”
Maxton looked up at him. “I said that Christopher de Lohr is better,” he said. Then, he waved a gloved hand at him. “Oh, I know that Chris and I have never gotten on well. The man is righteous and pious and so bloody moral that it makes me sick sometimes. But he is also unwaveringly brave, brilliantly intelligent, and unquestionable when it comes to his decisions. William is older and has therefore managed by virtue of time to establish a better reputation, but Chris de Lohr will have his moment. The man will shine in the annals of history like no other.”
Kress stared at him a moment. Then, he started to laugh. “You say this about a man you did nothing but criticize the entire time we were in The Levant?”
Maxton made a face. “Because de Lohr and his brother had their noses so far up Richard’s ass, when the man shit, it was the color of the de Lohr tunics. Richard could not take a piss without Chris there to hold his manhood.”
Kress was far gone with laughter by now. “That is what I am used to,” he said. “You bashing de Lohr at every turn. If you praise him again, I will accuse you of being possessed by the Devil and be forced to cut your head off.”
Because Kress was amused, Maxton’s lips were flickering with a smile. “I am not possessed,” he said. “And in spite of everything, I have nothing but the greatest respect for de Lohr. He will never be my best friend, but I know he would kill or die for me, and I for him. That is the extent of our brotherhood.”
Kress nodded, a twinkle in his eye. “And a most strange brotherhood it is,” he said. “You two cannot stand the sight of each other, yet you would die for each other. In fact, when we were at The King’s Gout discussing the tension between you and William, neither Chris nor David believed it. They could not grasp that the Maxton they’ve known all these years should be contentious with a superior.”
Maxton’s smile faded and he turned back to his sheath again. “I did not want him to send that beaten, starved woman back to St. Blitha to spy for him,” he said. “But I suppose, deep down, I understand why. She is our best option for a successful mission and she has already provided us with so much information.”
“Did you tell William that?”
Maxton shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “But, Kress… does everyone know?”
“Know what?”
“That I feel something for Andressa.”
Kress didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he came around to the front of Maxton, forcing the man to look up at him. He looked him in the eye.
“What do you feel, Max?” he asked softly. “Lust? Pity? Concern? What is it? Because this is not like you, not in the least.”
Maxton knew that. He took a deep breath as he sorted through his thoughts. “I know it is not,” he said. “Kress, I shall be honest with you – I know I have changed from the man you knew to be ruthless and heartless in all things, but I will tell you that the man is still there. That part of me has not changed. But after the incident with the Holy Father, when a man who is supposed to be the moral icon for all men and the very reason so many men died in The Levant is, in truth, something murderous, I swear to you that it was something that threw my entire life into question. I always felt like a sinner – or horrible, dirty sinner – with the vocation I have chosen. I have a talent for killing me and I have used that talent, many times. But when I saw what the Holy Father truly was, it made me question… have I sinned? Or is every man on earth evil, and I am no different from the rest? Is there any true good in this world?”
Kress knew all of this, at least for the most part, but it was the first time he heard Maxton put it into words. He put a hand on Maxton’s shoulder.
“I knew you were searching for answers,” he said. “But I did not know the exact questions. Have you found true good in this world, Max?”
He nodded. “In a pledge who is as weak and confused and searching as I am,” he said. “You ask me what I feel for her? I am not certain, but when all of this is over, I am going to marry her and we are going to seek our answers, together.”
Kress’ brows lifted in surprise. “Marriage?” he repeated. “I never knew such a thing interested you.”
Maxton shrugged. “Nor did I,” he said. “But with the right woman, all things are possible.”
It was a rather startling revelation as far as Kress was concerned. He knew that Maxton was feeling something for the pledge; he simply didn’t know how much or how deep. Now, he knew.
“Then this is the end of the Unholy Trinity,” he muttered. “The Executioner Knights will now be only two. I do not fault you for moving on to live your life, Max, and I am truly happy for you. But I am sorry to lose a brother in arms.”
Maxton frowned. “Who said anything about losing a brother in arms?” he said. “As for the Unholy Trinity, that is something you and me and Achilles will always be. I will always consider myself one of the Trinity, and proudly so. It is not the end of anything. But my life will change, I hope, for the better. I would like to be happy and content for once in my life.”
That was something Kress did indeed understand. He, too, had much the same thoughts on life as Maxton did, or at least he had, but unlike the rock-souled Maxton from the past, Kress had indeed secretly wondered about life and love and marriage. It was something he’d put out of his mind because he did not hold out any hope that it was attainable.
But Maxton had found it; perhaps there was hope, after all.
“And you deserve it,” Kress said. “Go and get your pledge’s inheritance back for her, as you told her, and live until you are old and gray and fat. But do not expect to lose me so easily; I may come live with you. Or, I may remain in The Marshal’s service. I’ve not yet decided.”
Maxton grinned at him, lifting a hand to pat him on the cheek. “Wherever you go, you know that all you need do is call me,” he said. “I shall be there, wherever and whenever you need me.”
In spite of the reassurance that the Unholy Trinity would always remain intact, Kress received the distinct impression that it was not to be. It was a sad thought, but one he wouldn’t linger on. Perhaps like Maxton, he needed to evolve.
But they had one last, final mission, anyway.
And they would see it through.
“We have had some good times, haven’t we?” Kress smiled at the memories, watching Maxton collect his helm from where it had been tossed on the bed. “I will miss our adventures.”
Maxton peered at him. “Who says our adventures are over?” he said as he headed to the door. “A wife will not keep me from having more adventures.”
“You think so, do you?”
It was a foolish statement, Maxton realized, as he looked at Kress and saw the man laugh. No, he couldn’t imagine Andressa would be too happy with him leaving her at Chalford Hill as he roamed about the known world, killing men and making money. Besides… that wasn’t what he wanted now. He had the live he wanted within his grasp and he wasn’t going to let it go.
“Come on,” he said, opening the chamber door. “Let us find the rest of the adventure hounds and get about this business. I failed to see Andressa yesterday and I am eager to see her today, in spite of the circumstances.”
“Then let’s go, lover. Let us not keep the future Lady Loxbeare waiting.”
Grinning at each other, they headed down to the vast interior courtyard of Farringdon House where everyone was gathering before heading out. Now, the business of the day was at hand.
It was the calm before the storm.