PROLOGUE
The year was 1709, the monarchy was under threat, and the queen’s advisers worried.
Danger came from many different quarters, and something had to be done. A council was formed by Anne, Queen of Great Britain, and she gathered ten of her most powerful nobles. Men she trusted to pledge their allegiance to her and none other. Each was given a ring, the gold band forged from goblets said to be used by William the Conqueror in 1066 when he won the Battle of Hastings and took the throne. The men would protect the ruling monarch, and the council would be known as Alexius.The Defenders.
Over the years their numbers would grow as members would be enlisted for courageous acts undertaken or loyalty to the throne. Others inherited the position. Brothers, cousins, all united in their quest.
Veritas scutumtibi eritwould be their pledge.The truth will be your shield.
CHAPTERONE
Zachariel Deville thought life had not taken a turn for the better as of late. He was listless, something he rarely experienced. He was currently wandering aimlessly down a street toward an unknown destination, pondering his life.
“Hand over your money.”
Two men appeared before him, and Zach could make out the glint of a knife blade in the weak lamplight.
“And if I say no?” he enquired, settling his weight evenly on the balls of his feet.
“Then we’ll slice you and take it anyway,” one of them said.
Even in the gloom, Zach could make out the larger bulk of the man speaking. The other was leaner but no less mean.
“Well then, you leave me no choice.” Zach kicked out with his left leg and dislodged the knife the bigger man held. “Much better, now we’re even,” Zach said.
“Get him!”
Zach felt a surge of energy as the men rushed him. This had been missing in his life as of late.Excitement.He jabbed with his right and then swung with his left, and the first man fell. The second followed shortly. Looking down at the crumpled forms, he noted they were still breathing. Stepping over them, he walked on.
“Well now, nothing like a little altercation to get the blood flowing,” Zach said as he took stock of his surroundings.
He’d left a soiree when boredom had forced him from the Lester home and had started walking aimlessly. His brothers had not been in attendance, and for the first time in many years, none of the beautiful young women there had managed to lift his lethargy.
Looking at the road he was currently heading down, he noted it was close to the gambling establishment he and his best friend Warwick Sinclair often frequented.Hadoften frequented, he amended. He hadn’t been there in months. In fact, he’d not been to many of the places he and his friend had once ventured into regularly.
And doesn’t that make me a maudlin individual.
And therein lay the first reason for feeling dissatisfied with life. Warwick had recently come to the realization he loved a woman he’d known since childhood, and consequently, they were now wed. His friend spent his evenings with his love. Which was entirely understandable but unfortunately left Zach rudderless.
He was happy for Warwick, really. It was just that suddenly he seemed the only person in his life who was not in love. Which said what about him?
“Am I unlovable? Or am I incapable of love?” As no one answered, he kept walking.
His brothers, three of them, and a cousin, were also now living in connubial bliss. Sighing at his family’s situations and his inability to lift the fog of malaise that was currently cloaking him, he reached the corner of the street where a large brick building stood. Several stories high, it had ivy choking it from two sides.
Zach thought he may as well win some money. That could improve his spirits now the initial rush of excitement after the fight had faded. Plus, Mr. Thompkins always had the best brandy, which was brought in from the coast, where it was smuggled into England from France.
Zach knew a great deal about people.
He knocked on the front door and waited. It opened, and the large, brute of a man standing there allowed him entry. A prizefighter before coming to work with Thompkins, the goliath was a gentle soul but had the appearance of a bear, which was often all that was needed to dissuade those who wanted to cause trouble from doing something they would usually regret in the clear light of day.
“It’s my hope your evening is going well, Pollock?” Zach asked the man.
“Very well, thank you, sir.”
“Excellent.”
Zach walked down the long, narrow hallway after depositing his hat and greatcoat and through another door. The noise hit him from all sides. The clink of glasses, sounds of raised voices. The aromas of spirits, perfume, and body odor mingled to fill the air with the familiar scents of both desperation and elation. A few hours here and he could go home and fall into bed to rise tomorrow and repeat the entire process.
