“So why was he following your pledge?”
Maxton threw his hands up. “Because he probably saw her leave the abbey,” he said as if it were obvious. “The man was a spy, my lord. He thinks like a spy, meaning he believes everyone in the world is spying, too. You know this; you have been in the politics of England a very long time. You know how men of that vocation think. I am certain he saw Andressa leave and he followed her, thinking that, mayhap, she was the one who told us of the Holy Father’s plans and St. Blitha’s involvement.”
William nodded faintly; it wasn’t as if he disagreed with Maxton. In fact, Douglas’ grisly death showed William what Maxton was truly capable of and that action, strangely enough, erased much of the doubt William was feeling about the man. Maxton was a man without hesitation when it came to killing, up to and including making a statement from how badly the body was desecrated, and that impressed William. It was beginning to lend credence to what Gart had been telling him all along– that Maxton of Loxbeare was born to kill.
And he was born to prevent the death of a king from assassins who, more than likely, thought just like he did.
“I will agree with you on that point,” he finally said, turning to glance at the roomful of men who were standing around, listening to the conversation. “But I am further concerned that leaving Douglas’ body at St. Blitha will cause the nuns to suspect he was killed on the pledge’s behalf. I am concerned they will know we will do anything to protect our spy and she is not finished there, Maxton. Not until the feast is over and the king is safe. You could very well have jeopardized her by killing Douglas and returning the body to St. Blitha.”
Maxton knew that. “There are a thousand murderers running about on the streets of London,” he said, though he didn’t want to admit that William might have a point– the death, and dumping, of Douglas had been made in anger. “Anyone could have killed the man.”
“And put the body on the doorstep of St. Blitha?”
Maxton’s jaw ticked faintly. “There is still no way of knowing who did it, or why.”
William wasn’t going to argue with him because he suspected, deep down, Maxton knew what he’d done. He’d taken a risk. So, he let the subject drop because there was no going back now.
What was done, was done.
“I shall not debate it with you,” he said, “for I have stated my concern. In any case, we should discuss what is to happen the day of the feast so that each man knows his role. Have you given thought to such things, Maxton?”
In fact, Maxton had, though very little. Much like the first time William asked him of his plan where it came to the king’s protection, which had only been that morning, Maxton began to concoct a plan as he went. Shifting his focus away from the dismembered spy, he looked to Sean, the king’s shadow, standing over with his brother by the windows.
“Sean, does the king still plan to hunt tomorrow?” he asked.
Sean nodded. “He does,” he said. “But now that we know it is the nuns of St. Blitha that we should beware of, do you still intend to shadow the king through the forests?”
Maxton looked at William, who lifted his shoulders. “Let us decide that depending on what your pledge says,” he said. “I cannot imagine that the nuns would venture into the woods to kill the king, but we cannot be certain. Make your determination after you speak with her.”
Maxton nodded. “Agreed,” he said, but he returned his attention to Sean. “Then let us speak of the day of the feast. Do you know when the king intends to arrive at St. Blitha?”
Sean stepped forward, closer to Maxton and William. “The feast is to take place at the nooning hour, the traditional time of a hunt,” he said. “John still plans to arrive at that time.”
Maxton thought on that. “How many in the king’s personal guard?”
“Twelve, including me.”
“And these are guards of the body?”
“Aye.”
“What of regular men-at-arms?”
“He will take a small contingent. At least fifty men because they will block off the streets and surround the abbey, most likely. But that is usual with him. The king is cautious, if nothing else. Something I suppose he learned from a father and brothers who were constantly trying to kill one another.”
Maxton lifted his eyebrows in utter agreement with that statement. “Then it would be a simple matter to add extra men to the contingent of men-at-arms,” he said. “A few more men would not matter. But we also need to place men inside the abbey; that is the most important factor. But we do not know the layout of the place.”
“I do.”
Everyone turned to see Andressa standing in the door to the solar. She looked a bit ashen, but alert. She was looking straight at Maxton and, after the surprise of seeing her washed over him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart lighten at the sight of her. It was an odd sensation, something he’d never experienced before, but a wholly welcome sensation. Something about it brought him contentment like he’d never experienced, this woman he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. She was well, and she waswhole, and that was all he cared about at the moment. Leaving his position by the hearth, he made his way over to her.
“How are you feeling, my lady?” he asked.
She smiled timidly at him as he came near. “A bit tired but, thanks to you, I am unharmed,” she said. “You have my deepest gratitude for coming to my aid.”
Maxton smiled in return, his eyes glimmering warmly at her. “It was my honor,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you feel well enough?”
“I do.”
