“De Lara,” he greeted. “You and I will converse privately at some point very soon.”
Sean nodded firmly. “Aye, my lord. A pleasure.”
Maxton didn’t linger on Sean because William was pulling him to the knight standing next in line.
“And this is Kevin de Lara, Sean’s younger brother. He has the strength of a bull, so do not let his shorter stature fool you. He will take you off your feet before you know what has hit you.” He came to the last two men in the line of knights. “And these final two warriors are particularly important– the man with the blue eyes is the premier knight for the House of de Winter. He’s also Irish to the bone and he’ll rip your head off before you know what hit you, so beware. I’ve never met a meaner man next to you, Loxbeare.”
Maxton lifted his eyebrows at the large knight with the piercing blue eyes, so blue that they were silver. “Is that so?” he said, a hint of doubt in his tone. “Forgive me, my lord, but if this is a gathering of marcher lords, then I am not sure why de Winter need be present. De Winter is not a marcher lordship, the last I heard.”
William answered. “De Winter has a small outpost near Gloucester, so there is some vested interest in the Marches,” he said. “Bric MacRohan leads the de Winter war machine, and that is something we cannot do without.”
Maxton nodded in understanding. “I see,” he said. Then, he addressed the silver-eyed knight. “Where are you from, Irish?”
A blond eyebrow lifted. “The name is MacRohan,” he reminded him in an Irish accent so thick that it was barely understandable. “My family hails from Dungarvan Castle, but I was born in Ardmore.”
“I see,” Maxton said. His gaze was intense on the man. “No offense intended, but you are not English. The situation we are to discuss requires men who are loyal to England to the core. I have never heard of such loyalty from an Irish knight.”
That comment only seemed to bring color to MacRohan’s pale cheeks, and William took the hint. He quickly pulled Maxton away from the Irish knight with the flaring nostrils.
“Don’t look at him any longer,” he muttered. “I’ve seen him throttle men for less than what you have just said. Every word out of your mouth from this point on will be a challenge to him.”
“It is a legitimate concern.”
“MacRohan is related to de Winter by marriage. His loyalty to England is beyond contestation. One more comment like that from you and we may have real trouble from him, so look away, lad, look away. Don’t look a mad dog in the eye.”
Maxton wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but to tempt fate, he looked over his shoulder at Bric MacRohan to see that the man was, indeed, glaring at him as if waiting for him to say the wrong word.
In truth, Maxton thought it was rather humorous, although he appreciated a man with such a commanding presence and a quick temper. Men with little control fascinated him, which was probably why he had made a companion of Achilles. He was the same way. As Maxton fought off a smile, thinking that he already liked MacRohan for some strange reason, the last knight in the chamber was introduced.
“Finally, this is Dashiell du Reims,” William said. “He is a cousin to the de Lohr brothers, as his father is the Earl of East Anglia. Dash is his heir and holds the title of Viscount Winterton. Currently, he serves the Duke of Savernake and helps command the great Savernake armies.”
Maxton greeted Dashiell with a nod of his head, noting the powerfully built man with the auburn hair. He didn’t look much like the de Lohrs, who were both blond-haired and blue-eyed, but he had the same build as David, and as a commander of the massive Savernake army, he was a man of considerable power.
“Du Reims,” he said. “Your family legacy is a great one.”
Dashiell had a rather gruff manner. “It is, my lord,” he said. “Thank you.”
Maxton cocked an eyebrow. “But that greatness is tempered by your relationship to the de Lohr brothers. You could have picked better relatives.”
A smile played on Dashiell’s mustache-covered lips. “Next time I will be more careful.”
“See that you are.”
The grin broke through. Dashiell was the last introduction in a meeting that had already been full of them, but Maxton’s mind was very sharp. He had the ability to completely recall every detail from nearly every moment in his life, and that included introductions. Once he met a man, he never forgot him, or anything about him, so as he absorbed the considerable power that was filling the chamber, William spoke to him.
“These are the men who will be at your disposal as you make plans for what is to come,” he said. “I realize you said that you and your companions work best as a team, but know these men are ready and willing to assist you, whatever your need may be, and, in particular, you must establish a working relationship with Sean since he is going to be so close to John. You will need that communication.”
Maxton nodded. “I imagine so,” he said, glancing over at Sean, who had turned to speak quietly with his brother. “Does the king know that Sean reports to you?”
William shook his head. “Although I gifted Sean to the king as a token of trust, and Sean has sworn his fealty to John, the truth is that Sean is there to watch John’s every move. It may not be entirely possible because John surrounds himself with his hand-chosen advisors, but Sean will at least know of the man’s movements. He will report them to me as he can.”
Maxton pondered that directive. “Then he is your spy.”
“He is.”
Maxton understood. “Does anyone else know?”
William shook his head. “Nay,” he mumbled. “Not even his brother. Kevin adores Sean and if he knew, he might try to help him, and we do not need young Kevin involved. He is an excellent knight, but I am afraid his willingness and emotion would give Sean away. And nothing must give the man away.”
