Forbes shrugged. “It would seem that they intend to try,” he said. “My lord, I cannot swear to you that what this courtesan told me was true, but we cannot take the chance that it is. In any case, John must be protected against those who seek to supplant him. My information is over a year old and if the Holy Father has already sent assassins to England’s shores, then the king is in great danger. It is not simply a matter of protecting him; it is a matter of eliminating the assassins. Only when the threat is eliminated will the king, and the throne, be safe.”
William knew that. But he also knew something more. “As long as that boy is alive, John will never be safe,” he muttered. “It is the boy who must be eliminated as well, or at the very least, brought back to England and placed under protection so he can never again be a threat.”
Forbes nodded faintly. “There are knights who will do such a thing, my lord.”
“You?”
Gart shrugged. “I would be willing to go after the boy and bring him back to England,” he said. “With the connections I made in Rome, I am fairly certain I would be successful at getting my hands on him. As for the assassins trained on the king, however, you need men with a special set of skills for that task. Assassins are a different breed of men.”
William was well aware of that particular fact but he still pushed Forbes. “You are an excellent knight, Gart,” he said. “You have returned to England with this information so your loyalty is unquestionable. Therefore, you should be the one to protect the king. You are calledSachwhen you are in the heat of battle,a term for madness. Who better to kill the king’s assassins than someone like you?”
Forbes immediately shook his head. “I am at my finest in the chaos of a battle,” he said. “But what you need are men who are well-versed in espionage and silent death. I am not silent about anything, my lord. As I said, you need men with special skills. You need assassins to kill the assassins.”
William pondered that statement, which was true in any case. “Assassins to kill the assassins,” he repeated. He stopped trying to push Forbes into the duty. “I know many fine men who would be up to the task but I will have to give the matter some consideration. The right men for the right job.”
Forbes’ gaze lingered on William a moment, his dark green eyes reflecting the firelight. “I know men who would be perfect for the task,” he said quietly.
William glanced at him. “Who?” he asked. “Do I know them?”
Gart shrugged, returning his attention to the smoking hearth. “You might,” he said. “They are men who were with me in the Holy Land over the past few years, men I trust with my life. But these men… they are not ordinary knights, my lord. They think like barbarians, fight like savages, and move as silently as hawks. While fighting Saladin, they were used by the Christian commanders as a strike force, as assassins against their enemies, and these men never once failed. Their reputations were so perfect that even the Holy Father heard of them and summoned the men to complete a task for him.”
William was interested. “Who are these men? Are they English?”
Forbes nodded. “Aye,” he said, eyeing William hesitantly a moment before continuing. “My lord, you may as well know the truth of the matter. When I came to tell you of the rumors of Richard’s bastard son and what the Holy Father intends to dowith him, it was with these men in mind to prevent such a thing from happening. They are my friends, men I trust, and men who are currently in a great deal of trouble. They need your help.”
William’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Gart’s gaze grew intense. “I mean that the task the Holy Father summoned these men for was, in fact, the assassination of the English king,” he said. “The Holy Father assumed these men could get close to the king because they were English themselves. In any case, the Holy Father ordered them to comply and when they refused, he arrested them and sold them to his allies, the Lords of Baux, where they are now prisoners at Les Baux-de-Provence. I tried to find out what I could about the state of their captivity, or if they were executed, and I was able to pay a Capetian soldier for information that leads me to believe the Lords of Baux intend to ransom my friends to other allies as captive fighters. They are very valuable warriors and will command a great price.”
William was looking at Forbes rather strangely. “How did you discover all of this?”
Forbes lifted his eyebrows in a gesture that suggested the answer was complicated. “They are my friends,” he said, repeating what William already knew. “Much like me, they have been traveling the world since the fall of Acre, fighting wars and doing unpleasant deeds for the highest bidder. It is that reputation that attracted the attention of the Holy Father. After he approached them with this mission, they were given a nominal amount of time to consider the task. In fact, they discussed it with me.”
“But you advised against it, of course?”
Gart nodded. “I did, but they did not need much prodding,” he said. “However, when they refused the mission, the Holy Father had them arrested and the next I heard, they had been moved out of Rome. It was in my determination to find outwhat had become of them. I came upon the courtesan who told me the story of Richard’s bastard son and the plans to eliminate John and put the boy upon the throne. Then, and only then, did I realize the greater goal the Holy Father had in mind when he asked my friends to assassinate their king. I doubt my friends even knew the reasons behind the Holy Father’s request. Men such as them are often given a task without the reason behind it.”
It was a complex and convoluted story that only grew in depth and difficulty. Every time Gart opened his mouth, the story grew arms and legs and heads in all directions. It was truly astonishing. William, as seasoned and wise as he was, was still having difficulty comprehending it all but, as Gart spoke, the complexity began to form a pattern and the pieces began to fall into place. Things, as dark as they were, began to make sense. Aye, a great deal of sense and William was starting to see the situation, and the solution, just as Forbes was.
“And you have come to me to ask me to ransom your friends’ freedom?” he asked.
Forbes nodded, sighing, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I have, my lord,” he said, relieved that William understood the point he was making. “They would be perfect for the task of eliminating John’s assassins, whoever might come on behalf of the Holy Father. There was a name for these men among the Christian armies.”
“What name is that?”
“The Unholy Trinity. Men known as the Executioner Knights.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “A seemingly ominous moniker.”
“They would make the perfect weapon.”
William drew in a long, thoughtful breath, peppered by bouts of coughing. When the weather turned cold as it was, he oftensuffered issues with his lungs. Winters made him ill. He patted his chest to loosen the phlegm.
“Mayhap,” he said, “but how long have they been prisoners?”
“At least nine months.”
William sighed heavily. “Nine months in the vaults of Les Baux-de-Provence,” he muttered. “I cannot imagine the hell of it. And even if they are still alive, the Lords of Baux may refuse my offer of ransom. We are not exactly allies.”
