“Whoisthis pledge?” Christopher demanded softly.
Alexander looked at him. “A girl that Max met quite by chance this morning,” he said. “Through her, we have come to hear some terrible things about St. Blitha, mostly that the Mother Abbess is a thief and a murderess, and that she allowsher charges to go hungry. That is the least of it, truly, but Max met the girl this morning when she was stealing food because she was starving. He fed her a meal and came to know her, and later in the day when she came into trouble, she sought him out for help. I would say that she is as attracted to him as he is to her. In any case, it has been a trial with the girl throughout the day, and Max is bewitched by her.”
The situation was coming clear somewhat and Christopher finally took a drink of his wine, pondering what he’d been told. “So it is the pledge who told him of the plans for the nuns of St. Blitha to assassinate the king?”
“Aye,” Alexander said.
“And your double agent told you the same thing?”
“Aye.”
“Then is it possible she is setting him up?” Christopher continued. “What I mean to say is why would the girl tell him such a thing when that is exactly what he has been tasked to discover? Don’t you think that is too great a coincidence?”
Alexander shook his head. “The way Max explains it, it was purely coincidental.”
“Or it was fate.”
Everyone looked at Achilles, who uttered the softly-spoken words. When he saw all eyes upon him, he simply lifted his eyebrows as if it were the simplest explanation in the world.
“It was a chance meeting,” he said. “You all speak as if Max would be a fool to fall for a woman who was trying to betray him, and he is not that kind of man. He is too sharp and too seasoned for such a thing. No woman in all the world can get the best of Maxton of Loxbeare, so the fact that he met a woman who has helped us solve the mystery of the assassins meant for the king is purely, and utterly, fate. God put that girl there at the right time so that she would find Max. It is as simple as that.”
Devout Achilles had a way of looking at things that encouraged divine assistance, but some of the others weren’t so devout. Christopher was one; he simply scratched his head.
“I suppose I can take some things on faith, but this seems terribly coincidental,” he said. “In any case, we now know what form the assassin will take. Sean, did you know this?”
He turned to Sean, who had been sitting silent throughout the exchange. He was a man more involved than almost any of them since he was the one who shadowed the king. Everything they were saying was of great importance to him.
“I had received word about the nuns earlier today from The Marshal,” he said. “He also said that I am not to discourage the king from attending St. Blitha for the feast day. It is clear he wants to catch the nuns in the act. He’ll need proof if he is to arrest women of the cloth, and proof is not the hearsay of a pledge or a Scottish prisoner.”
Alexander nodded. “That is another reason why we have called this meeting,” he said. “We must have a plan for that day, Sean. I’ve not spoken to Max about it, so I do not know if he has come up with a scheme, but it is my thought that we must be within close proximity of the king if we are to prevent the nuns from moving against him. I believe Max would say the same thing.”
Sean was listening. “What did you have in mind?”
Alexander was much like Maxton in that he had a tactician’s mind. He was able to see situations clearly and map out an end result. But as he geared up to explain, the door to the tavern opened again and in stepped a familiar figure.
Kress saw him first and it was the expression on his face that alerted the others. They all turned to see Maxton entering the tavern, shoving aside a drunkard who came too close. As the man slammed into the wall, Maxton caught sight of Kress and Achilles, sitting at a table with many other faces he recognized.Shoving his way through the crowd of bodies, he headed in their direction.
“Sherry,” he said, his intense focus on Alexander. “Your prisoner has escaped.”
That was not what they had expected to hear. Alexander bolted to his feet, followed by the rest of them.
“Gone?” he hissed, unbelieving, as he moved away from the table. “How long?”
Maxton shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I went looking for Kress and Achilles, and finally you, and in finding no one, I went to the prisoner’s chamber to see if you were all there. I found an empty chamber being guarded by a knight who had no idea that his prisoner had escaped and we found a rope of linens that hung from the window to the alley below. The gate guards said they saw you leave with Kress and Achilles, so I took a chance that you had come to this place.”
Alexander growled. “I should have killed that bastard when I had a chance,” he said. “Does The Marshal know?”
“He knows. He heard the shouts when we discovered the man missing.”
Alexander was trying not to feel like a colossal failure when he suddenly came to a halt, his eyes widening with horror.
“Bloody Christ,” he breathed. “Douglas knows that we are aware of the nuns of St. Blitha. I mentioned it to him, thinking he would tell me more about his message from the Holy Father, but he didn’t. It never occurred to me that he would… oh, God…”
Maxton understood exactly what he meant; he could see the abject terror in the man’s eyes. “Then he’s gone back to St. Blitha to tell them that their plan has been exposed,” he said. “Sherry, you did not tell the manhowwe knew, did you? You never mentioned the pledge?”
Alexander shook his head. “Nay, Max. Nothing like that.”
Maxton’s relief was visible. “Then he’s gone back to tell the nuns that we know everything,” he said. “Come on; we have work to do.”
