CHAPTER ELEVEN
Westminster Palace
“It is de Lohr,” Gart said.
Rhys, who had been sitting on a stool in Garret’s solar, looked up from the blade he was sharpening.
“De Lohr?” he repeated, mildly surprised. “Which one?”
Gart pointed out of the window he was standing next to, indicating the dusty bailey beyond. “Chris,” he said. “He is flying the blue and gold de Lohr standards from Lioncross Abbey Castle.”
It was the dawn of another warm day in London, the same rising temperature and rising humidity from the river filling the air. Gart and Rhys were in Garret’s private solar, waiting for Garret and the other knights to make their usual morning appearance, when the portcullis of Westminster’s South Gate had lifted and a rather large contingent of men had poured into the bailey. Rhys stood next to Gart now, watching the de Lohr party swarm into the yard.
“I do not know where Garret is, but we should go and greet Chris,” Rhys said, setting his blade aside as he headed for the door. “I did not hear that he was approaching Westminster. Did you?”
Gart shook his head as he followed the man to the door. “Nay,” he replied. “But with Richard’s wars in France, you know that de Lohr would mobilize. Possibly he is here to collect more men?”
Rhys shrugged his big shoulders. “It is possible,” he said, opening the door. A cloud of dust blew in from the arrival of the army outside. “I wonder if we are to expect David as well.”
There were many questions but few answers as Gart and Rhys entered the midst of the arriving army. The de Lohr brothers were always at the heart of anything Richard did, so in truth, this appearance wasn’t unexpected. There were at least a thousand men, five big provisions wagons, baggage and armory wagons, and more. It was quite a gathering, and Gart and Rhys could see the sergeants whipping the de Lohr ranks into an orderly collection, moving them out of the main part of the bailey to keep the way clear.
There was something about an army like this that fed the inner warrior in the knights. Armies meant battle, and that was what these men were bred for, only these days they didn’t see much action serving at Westminster. In fact, it was a rather easy appointment as far as appointments went, so to be in the midst of men that were preparing to move out for battle was something they drew strength from. The sight of armed soldiers, the smell of the horses, the noise of the crowd… Gart and Rhys found themselves wishing they were going, too. There was disappointment in knowing they were not. As they continued their hunt for de Lohr, someone came up behind Rhys and grabbed him by the arm.
With his right fist balled and cocked, preparing to slug whoever it was squarely in the face, Rhys was greeted by the great grinning face of Sir Max de Velt. A big man with flowing dark hair and a muscular build, Max had served Christopher for several years as one of his premier knights. In fact, he’d had an identical twin brother, Anthony, who had also served de Lohr but had been killed a few years before. Men who knew the de Velt twins thought it would be impossible for Max to survive without Anthony, but he’d done very well for himself with strength he never knew he had. He was a good man, an excellent knight, and a loyal friend. Rhys returned the man’s grin, shaking his head as he lowered his fist.
“You very nearly had your head taken off, old man,” he said.
Max laughed. “By who? You? The day you can catch me with one of those man-sized fists is the day I surrender my sword.”
“That day was almost today. But it is good to see you nonetheless.”
By this time, Gart had heard the commotion and now stood next to Rhys, eyeing a man he considered a friend. “Max,” he greeted fondly. “What in the hell is going on? Why is the de Lohr army here?”
Max reached out, slapping Gart on the cheek affectionately. “It is good to see you, too, Forbes,” he said. “Where is Garret?”
Rhys and Gart shook their heads. “We have not yet seen him this morning,” Rhys said, “but with the arrival of Chris’ army, I have no doubt he will be here. Where is Chris?”
Max was pointing off to his left, near a host of wagons. “Over there the last I saw of him,” he said. “He will make his way in this direction, I am certain. He’s not yet broken his fast, so I suggest you have food waiting for him in Garret’s solar.”
Rhys was already on the move, going to hunt down servants to bring food to de Moray’s solar. Gart, meanwhile, remained with Max.
“Why all the men, Max?” he asked seriously. “Where are you going?”
Max pulled off his three-point helm, of the latest design. “France,” he said as he raked his fingers over his scalp. “Christopher is picking up more men in London, more de Winter men in fact, and then he has transportation arranged to take us to Dieppe, and from Dieppe we shall travel on to Rouen where we will rendezvous with Richard.”
Gart looked around at the hundreds and hundreds of well-armed de Lohr soldiers. “So de Lohr has answered Richard’s call.” He confirmed his suspicions. “I thought so.”
Max nodded. “Indeed, he has,” he said. “I have no idea how long we shall be in Normandy and Lady de Lohr was none too happy about Chris going, so I have a feeling we will not be gone too long. Chris would not risk angering his wife like that.”
Gart smirked; they all knew how Christopher’s wife was the one who ruled the family. He put his hand on Max’s shoulder.
“Come to Garret’s private solar,” he said. “There should be food and wine there. Penden and de Nerra should like to see you, also.”
Max was eager to get inside, out of the heat and humidity, and away from the thousand men and dust and animals. As he and Gart headed towards the solar, they spied Garret coming from the direction of the great hall. Gart lifted a hand to him to indicate Max and Max waved to the man. Catching sight of the pair, Garret headed in their direction.
“Excellent to see you again, Garret.” Max extended a hand to Garret, who shook it warmly. Then, he frowned. “But you have the look of a troubled man this morning.”
Garret’s brow was furrowed, his expression serious. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, glancing at Gart as he spoke. “We have about twenty men from the night watch down with some kind of poisoning. They ate pork last night that was evidently rotten and the physic says they are seriously ill. I just came from the barracks where they are recovering, but that means we must reposition our posts for the night. I already have Gavin and Knox working on the issue.”
Gart lifted an eyebrow to twenty soldiers down with illness. “How can I be of assistance?”
Garret threw his thumb in the general direction of South Gate. “Gavin was supposed to have the day watch on South Gate this morning but he will not be able to,” he said. “Gart, find one of the other knights and put him in command of the South Gate. Also find someone to take your post at White Hall. I have a feeling I will need you with me today.”
Gart nodded. “The knights for the day watch are breaking their fast in the barracks,” he said. “I will send word to them.”
“Do it quickly. Where is Rhys?”
“He is in your solar, I believe, procuring food for the Earl of Worcester, who has just arrived. I have not yet located the man, but mayhap you should like to find him and welcome him.”
Garret nodded, his gaze moving out over the sea of de Lohr men. “I will,” he said, “but what in the hell are you doing here, Max?”
Max turned to glance at the army as well. “Heeding Richard’s call to France,” he said. “I am sure Chris will tell you more about it.”
Garret waved the men on as he headed off to find the Earl of Worcester. They were all quite informal with each other in private because they’d all fought together for many years, including in The Levant, long before Christopher was a man of standing. In public, they treated him with the greatest respect, but in private, he was still Chris, still their comrade and friend. Garret treasured those relationships, men he could count on when the entire world seem to fail. Seeing his friends again like this was food to his soul.
In his hunt for Christopher, he came across Zayin speaking with another de Lohr knight. When the knight turned to face Garret, he realized he was looking at yet another old friend.
“Dud,” he muttered, a grin on his lips. “Thomas Dudley. I’ve not seen you in quite some time.”
Sir Thomas Dudley, a man whose friends called him “Dud”, broke into a grin at the sight of Garret. He was a younger knight with faded green eyes, strong and obedient, and he’d served under Christopher in The Levant. But he and Garret had known one another, well. His expression was full of warmth.
“’Tis good to see you, Garret,” he said. “How is life in London these days?”
Garret shrugged. “Well enough,” he said. “I manage to keep myself occupied, at any rate. Where’s Chris?”
Dudley pointed off towards the great collection of wagons that contained provisions and weapons. “He was over there the last I saw him.”
Garret pushed past the pair. “Food and drink in my solar, so I am told. I will see you both there.”
Leaving Zayin and Dudley behind, he continued towards the wagons, looking for the man who was like a brother to him. Even though Garret had a brother in Rickard, it was different than the ties he felt to men like Christopher. They’d seen much life and death together on the great quest for Richard and Christendom, and their bond was stronger than blood. Even though they didn’t see each other frequently, when they did see one another, it was as if they’d never been apart. Garret wasn’t sure that many good things had come out of the great quest, but he could say for certain that his relationships with his fellow knights had been some of the greatest things he could have experienced. The bonds that had been forged were more powerful than kings or politics.
It was a brotherhood like none other.
As he neared the armory wagons, he caught sight of a very tall man with a crown of blonde hair, slicked back over his skull. Coming closer, he caught sight of a square jaw covered by a neatly-trimmed golden beard. That was the signature look of Christopher de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester, Defender of the Realm, King Richard’s champion and, perhaps, the greatest knight in England. He was certainly the greatest one that Garret knew.
“My lord!” he called “Chris!”
Christopher’s head snapped up, his sky-blue eyes focusing in on Garret. The smile that spread across the bearded lips could not have been missed.
“Garret!” he returned, heading towards the man and pushing aside a soldier who didn’t move out his way fast enough. When he finally came close, he reached out and grasped Garret’s outstretched hand. “Tis good to see you, my friend.”
“And you,” Garret said, giving the man’s hand a squeeze. Then he looked him up and down; at six inches over six feet, Christopher de Lohr was not a man to be missed, in any case, but he was loaded down with the latest mail and weaponry, and Garret found himself fingering the elaborate sheath for the man’s broadsword. “New?
“New and improved.”
“Impressive,” Garret commented. Then, he looked the man in the eye. “You look like a man who is going to war, Chris. What’s it all about?”
Christopher’s smile faded. “Richard sent me a personal request to join him in Normandy,” he said. But the time he finished speaking, his smile was gone completely. “There was no way I could ignore it.”
Garret eyed him. “You speak as if you do not want to go.”
Christopher shrugged. “I do not,” he said frankly. “I have enough to occupy me here at home without traipsing off to another of Richard’s wars. My wife is grossly unhappy about it and I do not blame her.”
“You consider the Normandy battles foolish?”
“Christ, yes. Where to start?”
Garret didn’t have much to say to that but his thoughts were moving to John, to the prince’s activities in London as of late, including the party two nights ago. This was a very bad time for de Lohr to be heading out of the country but he didn’t say that. Christopher already knew.
“What about David?” he asked after a moment. “He commands Canterbury’s army. Why not take him to France?”
Christopher sighed sharply. “Richard wants David here, in close proximity of London, to support Westminster if needed,” he said. “He told me to tell you that. It would seem that even though John has been in support of his brother as of late, Richard evidently does not trust him completely.”
An ironic smirk crossed Garret’s lips. “Walter and I were discussing this yesterday. Walter does not trust John but he said he’d had difficulty convincing Richard to be prudent and not take all of his supporters out of England.”
Christopher didn’t seem to be in agreement. “The missive I received from Richard suggested the opposite,” he said. “Mayhap he has finally come to his senses. In any case, if something happens with John, and something has been happening with John for more years than I can recall, then you are to summon my brother to support your forces at Westminster. Above all else, London and Westminster must remain in Richard’s hands.”
Now Garret was the one to let out a sigh, one that was long and, perhaps, pensive. “That seems to be the prevailing thought from Walter and now you,” he said. “John had a party here two nights ago, a celebration for Hawisa’s birthday. This place was full of the prince’s supporters, including his mercenaries. French and Teutonic, we think. Or, at least that was the belief when we ran them out of here the morning after the party. Nasty bastards, every one of them.”
Christopher’s gaze moved to Westminster Hall, that massive structure that was bigger than the halls of heaven. “Where is John?”
“He is still here,” Garret said, knowing the history of war and hatred between John and Richard’s Defender. “I am sure he is still asleep so it is possible you will not see him at all whilst you are here. How long will you stay, by the way?”
Christopher shook his head. “Not long,” he replied. “Long enough to take on more supplies, water the horses, and then we must meet the de Winter men near the Tower to take cogs to Dieppe. We have come in from Beaconsfield this morning, so it has already been a long day. Now, send for Walter, feed me, and let us speak before I continue on to France. There is much to discuss.”
Garret was thinking that no truer words had ever been spoken. With the unexpected appearance of Christopher, his mind moved from John to Lyssa and his conversation with Rose the night before. He’d told the old woman that he would find another house for Lyssa to go to, somewhere far away from Colchester and his deviant behavior. He’d even mentioned the House of de Lohr but he had no idea that an opportunity like this would drop into his lap. It would save him the days and weeks of waiting for a response to an inquiry.
In fact, he was starting to think that de Lohr’s arrival was most fortuitous. Even if Christopher wasn’t happy to be here, Garret was very happy to see him.
“Indeed, there is a great deal to discuss,” he finally said. “More than you know. Personal matters, in fact.”
Christopher looked at him with interest. “Oh? What personal matters?”
Garret could only shake his head, a glimmer of mirth in his eye. “You will not believe it.”
Christopher clapped him on the shoulder, turning him for the man’s private solar where food and drink awaited. “Is that so? Then I am intrigued.”
Garret had to grin. “As well you should be.”
“From the expression on your face, I am coming to think that whatever is on your mind has nothing to do with politics.”
Garret tried to erase the smile from his face. “What makes you think so?”
Christopher snorted. “Because I know you, Garret. You look like a man who has a secret.”
Garret was fairly certain Christopher couldn’t imagine the half of it.
*
“Tell me more about John’s party, Garret. Do you have reason to believe it was something more than a party – mayhap even a show of force for the prince?”
The question filled the sticky air of Garret’s solar. It was filled with men who had all served together in The Levant, a place where they could speak freely, on any subject, including those that would only be discussed privately. But within the old stone walls, there was a circle of trust that would never be broken. That was why Christopher had asked the question so openly; there was no fear of the wrong men overhearing.
Garret was standing near the table that held his maps and official edicts, a massive piece of furniture that could easily hold four big men on its surface. Around the table sat Gart, Rhys, Gavin and Knox, having finished their duties with the ill men. Zayin was back against the wall behind it.
Across from them stood Christopher, with a second cup of watered wine in his hand, as well as Dudley, Max, and a very young knight who had once been Christopher’s squire. Sir Darren Ainsley had practically been raised by Christopher after the death of his father and now was an excellent knight thanks to the training he’d received in the House of de Lohr.
It was a gathering of friends as far as Garret was concerned although there were some very serious issues at hand, including the one they were currently discussing. It was a continuation of his conversation with Christopher out in the bailey, now brought inside to expand upon.
“It did not seem that way to me,” Garret replied to the question. “It was a celebration of the day of birth for Hawisa and had all of the trappings of a female party. There were women everywhere so I never received the impression that it was a war conference.”
Christopher mulled over the answer. “You are aware that John and I have had many problems over the years,” he said. “John can do as he wishes and there is no punishment, not from Richard or anyone else. Unfortunately, he was raised that way. He has been fighting his brothers or his father since he was a very young man and it is a way of life for him. Being on the Welsh Marches much of the time, I do not keep track of his daily activities like you do, Garret. What more can you tell me that I can take to Richard?”
Garret scratched his chin as he contemplated his answer. “Walter may have more of an answer for you when he arrives, but I will tell you what I can,” he said. “As we are all aware, John has been supporting his brother in Normandy. That is beyond dispute. In fact, it was John who led forces in Normandy last year to capture Eveux Castle, a major holding. Earlier this year, he captured the town of Beauvais on behalf of his brother. He and Richard have been allies as of late, which is odd in and of itself. I’m not sure anyone knows quite how to behave with this brotherhood Richard and John are presenting to the public because those two have been at odds for so many years. But I will tell you this… it is no secret that I do not trust John. I would not be surprised if the loyalty he is showing towards his brother is an act.”
Christopher nodded in a most fervent manner. “Praise God that someone has had the courage to say what I have been saying all along,” he muttered. His focus was on Garret. “I do not trust him, either. I know that he and Richard have a rare brotherhood bond these days, but it does not ring true to me, either. I can see that there is still a clear line between John’s supporters and Richard’s supporters in England, even if Richard does not see it.”
Garret folded his big arms across his chest. “I feel as if I must be on my guard, still,” he said. “The night of John’s party was hell for old knights like me. We remember the battles between the brothers. In my mind, there will never be peace between them.”
Christopher heartily agreed. “But do you have any proof that John may be undermining his brother here at home? As I said, you are closer to this than I am. Is there anything that may give you pause?”
Garret lifted his eyebrows in a pensive gesture. “I have no definitive proof beyond my own experience in the matter,” he said. “But my brother serves the Duke of Colchester and the duke was a guest at John’s party. Walter suspects what we do, Chris – he suspects that John is publicly supporting his brother yet planning something subversive. Colchester, as we know, has always supported Richard. It is the king who has given the man his wealth and properties. Based on the fact that Colchester was a guest at John’s party, I asked my brother if Colchester’s loyalties had changed. My brother did not have the opportunity to answer me, for we were interrupted, but the expression on his face told me that my question may have been close to the truth.”
Christopher sighed faintly, going to refill his cup with watered wine. As he did so, a soldier entered the solar, stopping right at the door because the soldiers knew they were not permitted in the chamber of the elite knights. His young, pale face focused on Garret.
“My lord,” he said, his voice cracking because of his youth. “Hubert Walter is at the White Tower today. His messenger arrived to say that he will make all due haste back to Westminster at your summons.”
Garret nodded, flicking his wrist at the soldier, who took it as a command to flee. When he was gone, the chamber door slamming behind him, Garret turned to Christopher.
“Will you have time to wait for him?” he asked. “I cannot imagine that he will be too long, but I realize you have a schedule to keep.”
Christopher smacked his lips of the tart wine. “It will take time to secure provisions and rest the horses,” he said. “I can wait for a few hours. In fact, I may take the time to catch an hour or two of sleep. I did not sleep at all last night. Max had a loud game of dice going on and I could not sleep for all of the yelling that was going on.”
On a stool near the hearth, Max sat up straight, wide-eyed. “My lord, all you needed to do was tell us to be silent.”
“I did.”
Max simply wriggled his dark eyebrows in a sheepish gesture. “I must not have heard you, my lord.”
“That is because you were being too loud, you dolt.”
As Max hung his head, rebuked, Garret grinned. “You can use my apartment if you wish, Chris,” he said. “You are more than welcome to my bed. It will be quiet there.”
It seemed as if the group was going to break from serious conversation at that point. Gavin and Gart converged on Max and their soft laughter filled the air while Rhys went to admire Darren’s new broadsword, the one the young knight had saved his money for. Knox ended up over by the tray of leftover food, picking at crusts and remains of cheese, because that was something he usually did. He was the scavenger of the group.
Seeing that the serious conversation had been satisfied, Garret made his way over to Christopher because there was still more he wanted to discuss with the man, only he didn’t want to do it in front of an audience. The personal discussion he’d made mention of earlier was about to come forth because he knew Christopher’s time here was limited and he didn’t want to miss his chance.
His future, and Lyssa’s future, depended on it.
Truthfully, he was embarrassed. This was the first time in his life he’d had to bring forth a subject of a personal nature and he was in unfamiliar territory. Speaking on a woman he was interested in, a woman he’d only known a couple of days, had him feeling like a fool but he forced that chagrin aside. It was a subject he had to raise. He was about to open his mouth when Zayin joined them and he eyed his friend, knowing he was about to say something that Zayin already knew. Somehow, there was mute support in Zayin’s presence. It fortified him.
“Chris,” he said, clearing his throat somewhat nervously, “before you go to rest, there is something more I must speak with you about. It is the personal subject I’d mentioned earlier.”
Christopher turned to him, mirth glittering in his eyes. “Ah, yes,” he said. “The subject that had me intrigued. Well? Are you indeed a man with a secret, Garret?”
Garret scratched his head, trying to figure out how to tactfully phrase what he was about to say but he realized there was nothing else to do but simply come out with it.
“In a sense,” he said. “I… I have met a woman and….”
Christopher didn’t let him continue. His eyebrows flew up and he grabbed him on the shoulder. “You?” he repeated, shocked. “A woman? I do not believe it!”
Garret was trying not to let his embarrassment overcome him but it was difficult when he saw Christopher’s grin. Half-taunting, half-joyful it was, and he couldn’t help but grin in return.
“Other than Zayin, my men do not know so please keep it to yourself,” he said quietly, turning to look at the men in the chamber, making sure no one had heard him. Satisfied, he returned his focus to Christopher. “She is a lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Colchester. I met her quite by chance but I will spare you the details. Suffice it to say that she is someone I wish to… court.”
Christopher’s grin broadened. “Court? Or marry?”
“Mayhap both.”
“Then I am delighted for you, Garret, truly. Who is she? What is her name?”
“Lyssa du Bose,” Garret replied. “Her family is not wealthy or prestigious, but she was able to secure a position serving the duchess because her aunt serves the woman. I am not one to speak of women, Chris, you know that, but… well, Lady Lyssa has all of my attention. I have never had this happen before so it is both frightening and thrilling.”
Christopher laughed softly. “Well do I know how you feel, my friend,” he said. “I felt the same way for my wife when we were first married, although it took some time. We did not have the advantage of a courtship. We hardly knew each other when we married.”
Garret was back to scratching his head nervously. “And I am not sure we will have a conventional one, either,” he said. “There is some trouble with Colchester and I must remove Lyssa from his household. I would like to send her to Lioncross Abbey to serve your wife for the time being. As a favor to me, will you permit this?”
Christopher grew serious. “You need not even ask,” he said. “Permission is already given. I will write a brief message that your Lady Lyssa may take to my wife as an introduction. I am sure my wife will be happy to have her. But what, may I ask, is the trouble with Colchester?”
Garret was on to a part of the subject that made him sweat with rage. Even now, he was still so angry about it that he could hardly stand it and his palms began to sweat.
“You know as well as I do that Jago de Nantes is a vulgar creature,” he muttered. “You and I spent enough time with him in The Levant to know that.”
Christopher thought on a man he had a genuine dislike for. “Indeed,” he agreed quietly. “Christ, please don’t tell me that he somehow hurt her.”
Garret shook his head faintly. “I wish I could,” he said. “He attacked her yesterday and touched her most inappropriately. She will recover, but there is an understandable urgency to remove her from his household.”
Christopher closed his eyes briefly, as if warding off the horror of what Garret was telling him. “And Colchester is not dead by your hand?”
“It was not my choice, believe me.”
At this point, Zayin spoke up. He’d been watching the exchange but when they came to the subject of Colchester’s attack, he didn’t want de Lohr to think that Garret had been weak. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“My friend showed great restraint, my lord,” Zayin insisted softly. “In fact, I did not even know about the attack, for I was with the smithy and did not see what Garret saw. He saw an injured woman and instead of seeking revenge, he tended her. He saw that she needed his attention, not his anger.”
Christopher could only imagine the self-restraint the man had been forced to employ not to punish the man who touched his lady. “Then he is a greater man that I am because I would have no such self-control,” he said to Zayin. “But you have met this woman?”
“I have, my lord.”
“And?”
“And she is most worthy of Garret. I believe she will be good for him.”
That was enough for Christopher. If the wise Muslim approved of the woman, then he approved of her as well. He returned his attention to Garret. “Do you want my advice?” he said. “Get her out of there immediately. Today. Bring her to Westminster and then send her with an escort on to Lioncross. My wife will take good care of her.”
Garret was feeling a great deal of relief. Reaching out, he grasped Christopher by the arm. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “When the incident happened yesterday, you were one of the first people I thought to send word to in order to find a haven for her. Your appearance today has been most fortuitous.”
Christopher could see the utter gratitude in Garret’s expression. “I am happy to be of service,” he said. “And I am most eager to meet this young woman who has turned your head.”
Garret thought on the exquisite creature with the creamy skin and bronze-colored hair. “You will not be disappointed, I assure you.”
“I am sure I will not be. But, Garret… you do intend to marry her, don’t you? What I mean to say is that this is not some chivalrous action with no goal in mind. Marriage is your intention, isn’t it?”
Garret thought on the question a moment before snorting ironically. “I never imagined myself the marrying kind,” he said. “I am a seasoned man, set in his ways, so marriage was not a priority. I had my career, my dedication to my king, and my life was complete. Or so I thought until I met Lyssa. I feel like a man who has seen the sun for the first time and realized the beauty of the world around me. She is the sun and all my world is incandescent. I cannot explain it better than that.”
Christopher was sympathetic. “I know exactly how you feel,” he said. “Finding a woman you have feelings for is most definitely an awakening. How long have you known her?”
“Two days.”
Christopher’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Two days?” he repeated. He glanced at Zayin, who nodded his head as if there was nothing strange about it. Covering his shock, Christopher chuckled. “Then she must be very special, indeed.”
Garret could see that he was trying not to scold him for having known the woman such a short amount of time before declaring his intentions. “I know it seems ridiculous to declare my intentions after knowing her so short a time, but I am not a poor judge of character. Often, my life depends on such things. I knew nearly the moment I met her that she was a woman I wanted in my life. When you meet her, you will understand.”
Christopher could hear the emotion in the man’s voice. “I understand already,” he said. “As I said, I know what it is like to feel something for a woman, Garret. When she is the right one, you know it in your heart. Do not let anything stand in your way if she is the one you want.”
Garret’s black eyes glittered. “Trust me when I say that I will kill anyone who gets in my way, Colchester included,” he said. “That is why Lyssa must be removed immediately. If he so much as looks at her again, I will kill him and that will cause untold problems.”
That was an understatement. Garret had shown restraint once but it would not happen again, and Christopher could only shake his head. “It will not come to that,” he said firmly, “because you are going to remove her today. Go and retrieve her now before another moment passes. The longer she stays there, the worse it may be for you both.”
Garret thought that was an excellent idea. He’d planned on going to The Wix this morning as it was, but Christopher’s words had him feeling a renewed sense of urgency. He was just about to say so when the door to the solar opened and he turned, casually, to see who it was. In truth, he was unprepared for what he saw.
Rickard was in the doorway.
This was not a normal occurrence. Rickard had never simply appeared at Westminster, not in all the time he’d been in residence with Colchester at The Wix. Rickard was a busy man and socializing with his brother was far down on his list of priorities, understandably. Therefore, Garret was startled by the man’s appearance. But that surprise was quickly overwhelmed by a gnawing sense of concern. He broke away from Christopher and moved in his brother’s direction.
“Rickard,” he said, concern on his face. “Is everything well, man?”
Rickard was sweaty and strained. He looked around the chamber, seeing all of the men, men he knew but not as well as his brother did. He also saw Christopher, who was coming in his direction with a look of both surprise and interest on his face.
“I am sorry to interrupt,” Rickard said to his brother, but he was looking at Christopher. “Greetings, my lord. I had no idea you were in London.”
Christopher was cordial to Garret’s older brother, a serious career knight who had only a fraction of his brother’s talent. “It is good to see you, Rickard,” he said. “It has been a while.”
Rickard nodded. “It has, my lord,” he said. “This is your army in the bailey?”
Christopher nodded. “All of them,” he said, somewhat drolly. “We are just passing through on our way to rendezvous with Richard in France. I hear you are serving Colchester now.”
Rickard nodded. But then, he looked at Garret. “I must speak with you, Garret. Alone, if you please.”
Garret stiffened. “Is Lyssa well?”
Rickard could see his brother’s panic. “She is well,” he said. “It is not her I have come to speak with you about. It is….”
He trailed off, unwilling to say anything more with all of the knights listening to him. Garret sensed his brother’s trouble; he didn’t know these men like he did. He didn’t have that trust. But Garret trusted them with his life. He knew they wouldn’t repeat what they’d heard within these walls.
“Is it about Colchester?” he asked.
Rickard didn’t answer the question directly. “Just a moment of your time, Garret. Please.”
Garret could see that his brother was hesitant to speak and he hastened to reassure him. “Rickard, if this is about Colchester, we have already been discussing him,” he said. “You may speak freely in front of these men. Whatever you say will not leave this chamber; I swear it. And the Earl of Worcester is beyond contestation, so you may tell him anything with confidence.”
Rickard didn’t really want to speak in front of these men but, now, if he didn’t, it would be an insult. Garret had just vouched for their trustworthiness so Rickard had no choice. He should have been annoyed with his brother but he couldn’t spare the energy. After his conversation with Jago the previous evening, he’d been waiting all night for the opportunity to ride to Westminster and now that he was here, he had no choice but to quickly speak and then return to The Wix before he was missed. Already, his absence might rouse suspicion but he had to take that chance.
Garret had to know.
Therefore, he looked directly at the man.
“You asked me yesterday if Colchester had switched his allegiance to John,” he finally said. “Why did you ask me that, Garret? What do you know?”
Garret glanced at Christopher before speaking. “Know? Nothing for certain. But I have reason to suspect.”
Rickard couldn’t really think of anything to tell him other than the truth; ten simple words came to mind, but they were words that Garret would understand completely.
Ten little words that summed up the situation perfectly. Fixing his brother in the eye, he shook his head with disgust.
“You have every reason to be suspect. You were right.”