“This does not sound like the Max I know,” he said quietly. “He actually argued with The Marshal? I’ve never known the man to argue with anyone other than the de Lohr brothers.”
They were nursing two pitchers of dark, heavy wine imported from the Mediterranean region. Gart picked up one of the pitchers to fill Cullen’s cup as he answered.
“The problem is that The Marshal has not worked with Maxton before,” he said. “He does not know that Maxton is a man of his word. He has been given a task and he will accomplish it regardless of his personal feelings, but Max was never one to hold back when expressing his thoughts on a matter. And he can be very moody, moodier still since his time at the Lateran Palace. I am not sure he is the Max that any of us knew any longer. He has… changed.”
“Mayhap he has changed in personality, but the soul of the man is the same,” Kress said quietly. As Maxton’s closest friend, he was the one best suited to speak to the situation. “Those of us who have spent time with him over the past year have seen it– the introspection, the seeking of knowledge from wise men, holy men, or any man who might have an insight into the world at large. Now that I’ve seen him react to the pledge from St. Blitha, it is increasingly clear that he’s growing a conscience. Something about that girl has stirred something in him, as if he’s only noticing the injustices of the world for the very first time.”
Gart grunted unhappily. “God’s Bones, of all time for the man to develop a heart,” he said. “What happened to the cold killer we all knew?”
“He is still there,” Achilles said. When they all turned to look at him, he merely shrugged. “Make no mistake; the cold killer is still there, as deadly as ever. But Maxton has grown up. He is aman of flesh and blood, and I think that girl has stirred the man in him– the romantic.”
The table looked at Achilles as if the man were crazy. “You must be drunk,” Gart muttered. “The man has no romance in him.”
Achilles was unrepentant. “All men have romance in them, Forbes,” he said. “Some simply keep it buried deeper than others.”
Cullen seized on the possibility. “Are you saying that Max actually has feelings for this… thispledge?” he asked, incredulous. “Not only is she pledged to the church, but she has clearly been with another man. The girl is pregnant. Andthisis the girl who is stirring Maxton’s romantic feelings?”
Achilles simply lifted his shoulders. “We have seen the girl,” he said. “She is not unattractive. In fact, she’s rather beautiful in a pale sort of way. Whatever she is, and whoever she is, she has bewitched Max, but I do not believe William has figured that out yet. He simply thinks Max is being stubborn.”
“Then he is risking his reputation for a woman he just met,” Gart growled. “In fact, I…”
He was cut off when the tavern door slammed back on its hinges and four big knights entered the common room of the tavern, adding to the noise and chaos. Gart could immediately see that it was the men they’d invited and he stood up, catching their attention and waving them over.
Kevin de Lara, Christopher and David de Lohr, and, finally, Sean de Lara approached the table, grabbing chairs as they moved through the crowded common room and sitting down at the table with their pilfered seats. Cups and wine were passed to them.
“My wife is furious because I answered Gart’s summons in the midst of a family feast, so let this be brief,” Christopher said as he poured his wine. “What is so important that I had to travelacross London for this meeting? And why are we not converging at Farringdon House?”
It was Gart who answered, since he was the instigator of the meeting. “Because we do not want The Marshal to be part of this conversation,” he said. “Much has happened since the meeting this morning, Chris. We now know the means by which the assassination against the king will be made.”
Christopher was very interested. “What is it?”
“Nuns.”
Christopher’s cup of wine stopped halfway to his lips. “What?” he hissed. “Nuns? Who told you this madness?”
Gart shook his head. “It is not madness, I assure you,” he said. Then, he looked to Alexander across the table. “Tell him, Sherry.”
Alexander sat forward, lowering his voice as much as he could in a room full of loud, drunken people. “I have been trailing a double agent since leaving the Lateran Palace,” he said. “In fact, a high-placed advisor to our Holy Father paid me to kill this man. There is far more to the story that I am going to tell you but, for the sake of time, I will tell you the gist of it. The man I was paid to kill is a Scotsman named Alasdair Baird Douglas. He delivered a message to the Mother Abbess of St. Blitha, a personal message from our Holy Father, that instructed the Mother Abbess to murder the king when he arrives at St. Blitha to celebrate her feast day.”
Christopher’s wine never made it to his mouth. Incredulous, he set his cup down and stared at Alexander as if the man had gone completely daft. “Christ,” he finally muttered. “The feast is in two days. And you are certain of this?”
Alexander nodded. “Unfortunately,” he said. “It was corroborated by a pledge from St. Blitha, quite by accident. In fact… the pledge is why we have called this meeting.”
“Why?”
“Because Max seems to have developed an attachment to the woman.”
As Christopher made a face suggesting complete confusion, David wasn’t so subtle. “That is ridiculous,” he said. “Max has no attachment to any woman.”
“That is what we know of the Maxton from the past,” Alexander countered. “But the Maxton who has returned from eight years away from England, including years of fighting with you two in The Levant, is a different man altogether. He is behaving in ways we never knew possible.”
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“He has come close to throttling The Marshal at least twice because of the man’s stance on the pledge,” Alexander explained. “William wants to use her to spy on the nuns of St. Blitha since she lives there, but Maxton does not want the woman involved. He says she is not a spy and does not have the skills needed for what William wants her to do.”
David didn’t have a quick answer to that. He looked at his brother, baffled by what he was hearing. “Since when does Maxton of Loxbeare argue with his liege?” he finally asked. “Better still, since when does he even care about anyone other than himself and a few fellow knights? Max is blindly obedient in all things. I’ve never known him to be otherwise.”
Alexander sat back in his chair. “He is still obedient,” he said, but it was clear that he, too, was confused with the change in his friend. “He’s not disobeyed any order from The Marshal, not yet, but he is not happy with the man’s intentions when it comes to the pledge.”
