“If you offer enough money, they will not refuse.”
William cast him a sidelong glance. “How much money do you speak of?”
Forbes pretended to think on the matter but the truth was that he had already arrived at a sum and a plan. He had an idea in mind. “The knights I speak of are Maxton of Loxbeare, Kress de Rhydian, and Achilles de Dere,” he said. “The family of Loxbeare are major landholders in Devon and the House of de Rhydian controls much of the lands near Manchester. De Dere has rich holdings in York. The point is that I am quite sure they would be willing to pay for their sons’ return and you would not be out any money in the matter.”
The light of recognition went on in William’s eyes. “I know Hugh de Rhydian and Magnus of Loxbeare,” he said. “They are both friends and allies.Theirsons, you say?”
“Aye.”
William turned towards the half-open solar door and called for his manservant, a valet who did everything from dress the man to write his missives. William could write, and do it well, but his joints ached when it was cold and made writing difficult. As the servant scuffled in, he motioned the man towards his large, cluttered desk.
“We have missives to send,” he told them servant, a sense of urgency in his voice. Then, he turned to Gart. “It will take timeto send the missives and receive a reply. If papal assassins are already in England, then it may be too late.”
Forbes’ angular face was serious. “It is possible,” he said. “The last I saw my friends was close to a year ago. I then spent two months in Rome searching for them and then I traveled home to inform you of the news. There has been time for the Holy Father to hire more men to do the job.”
William digested the information before moving swiftly into action. He could no longer linger on surprise or dismay, and he wasn’t a man who was prone to inaction. His entire life was proof of that. Under his expert guidance, missives were soon being sent to Hugh de Rhydian and Magnus of Loxbeare, and both William and Forbes were heading to Winchester Castle where the king was in winter residence. The time for talk was over.
It was time to take action.
Regardless of how William felt about John personally, it was imperative that the man know of, and understand, the threat against him. But there was someone else who needed to know, someone more powerful than even John. William sent Forbes to personally deliver the news to Eleanor of Aquitaine who, upon receiving the information of the papal plot against her son, donated money to the ransom cause.
Eleanor did not want to lose yet another son and with hope presented, she would do what she could to preserve John’s rule. The Marshal had a plan for John’s survival and Eleanor was more than eager to support it. Eleanor even sent men to ride to the Lords of Baux, led by Gart Forbes himself, to deliver the ransom. Both she and William had decided that it would be much better to send the ransom under her banner because, as so many knew, she and John were always in contention with each other and Eleanor was far more French than she was English.Therefore, her banners were more suitable when dealing with the Lords of Baux.
Seven weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after Forbes delivered the information on that cold and snowy night to William Marshal, Gart Forbes and a gathering of armed men bearing the standards of Eleanor of Aquitaine arrived at Les Baux-de-Provence with a chest of gold and silver marks and a request from Eleanor to deliver the three English knights in the fortress vaults to her custody.
The Great Lord of Baux, a greedy man named Estienne, happily agreed at the sight of so much coinage. His purpose had been to ransom the knights off, anyway, and ifla subvention Anglais reinewanted to pay handsomely for these men, then Estienne would oblige her. The deal was struck and the three dirty, beaten, and weakened knights were purged from his vaults after months of captivity.
In truth, it had been a slick operation and one that Gart had been quite proud of. Finally, his friends had been released and were very quickly heading back to England, fearful that the Lords of Baux would change their minds. They rode very hard for weeks, in nasty weather and constant storms, only to take an old cog from Calais on one of the very few clear days they’d seen in all that time, a cog that headed straight for the white cliffs of Dover.
To the three English knights who never believed they’d ever see the light of day again, it was a beautiful sight. But their duties, as explained to them by Forbes over the course of their travels, somewhat dampened that joy. They hadn’t simply been ransomed; they’d been ransomed with a purpose, a purpose that would be revealed when they met with William Marshal.
However, Gart had hinted at something ominous behind The Marshal’s meeting, leaving the three knights wondering if remaining in the vaults of Baux would have been preferable.Gart wouldn’t give forth any further information and in the weeks leading up to The Marshal’s meeting, Maxton and Kress and Achilles were feeling some trepidation.
With good reason.
Little did they know that the fate of a country would soon been placed in their hands.
The Executioner Knights would become England’s only salvation.
CHAPTER ONE
London
Convent dedicated to St. Blitha of the Order of St. Dominica
North of the city walls, near Bishopsgate
Almost Three Months later
The walls ofthe old convent were ancient, hundreds of years old at the very least, and emitted an odor that smelled much like time itself, something like dirt and mold and stagnant water. It was an odd scent, one that inevitably created a mood of both religious piety and the inherent doom.
This must be what sin smells like.
That was what the man thought as he stood just inside the door of the old convent, his eyes adjusting to the weak light. There was no furniture, a dirt floor, and the ceiling was low to accommodate the short nuns who inhabited the place.
For a man of normal height, the ceilings weren’t so obliging– he’d already hit his head, twice, the last time being on a beam that smacked him straight on the forehead. The least bit frustrated, he simply stood in one place and waited. He’d come with a purpose and, low ceilings notwithstanding, he would accomplish what he’d been ordered to do.
But the wait became excessive and he was exhausted. Months of travel had seen to that, and with no place to sit, his legs were beginning to tremble. He also hadn’t eaten in some time. Dirty, worn, and unkempt, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand as he waited for the Mother Abbess to make an appearance.
