“Let me seeif I understand this correctly,” St. Denis said, struggling with his patience. “You are Brenton de Royans, son of Juston de Royans. And you are Myles de Lohr, son of Christopher de Lohr, the Earl of Hereford and Worcester.”
Brenton and Myles were lined up in front of St. Denis, being scrutinized as they’d never been scrutinized in their lives. In fact, the entire solar was full of Blackchurch trainers, and bigger and meaner men had never existed. Creston and Cruz were just the beginning. There was a Northman named Kristian, an enormous knight named Fox, and a massively tall beast named Tay. There were others, including a man from Cairo and another from far to the east.A Shaolin monk,they’d been told. All of them were looking at Brenton and Myles in both dismay and outrage.
But no one was more outraged than St. Denis.
“Answer me,” he snapped when Brenton and Myles didn’t answer fast enough. “Do I have that correct?”
“You do, my lord,” Brenton said.
St. Denis was pacing a little. Dressed in a fine leather robe, he’d been dragged out of his bed by Creston and Cruz with themost upsetting information. Worse still, they had the proof—a missive that looked like a royal dispatch, thanking St. Denis for supplying Louis of France with men and money for his Gascon campaign.
The entire thing was baffling.
“And you came across this missive, and the man who carried it, at a tavern in London,” St. Denis said. “Did I understand that correctly?”
“Aye, my lord,” Brenton said.
St. Denis had the dispatch in question in his hand. He held it up again, to the light, and read the words that not only implied, but spelled out, the fact that he’d sided with the French in the war against Henry. After reading the dispatch for the tenth time, he shook his head and handed it over to Amir, who took it over to the light so he could read it also. Amir was an advisor to St. Denis on many matters, including politics, because that was what he taught at Blackchurch. There was no one more adept at deciphering political games than Amir.
And this one was, indeed, a puzzle.
“Creston and Cruz brought this to my attention, so I do not know how much they have questioned you,” St. Denis said to Brenton and Myles. “You will forgive me if I am asking questions they have already asked, but I’m sure you understand the seriousness of this situation.”
Brenton nodded. “That is why we brought the dispatch here, my lord,” he said. “Knowing Blackchurch is historically neutral in any conflict, it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“And it is greatly appreciated,” St. Denis said. “Please do not misunderstand. As Creston told me, you are Executioner Knights. You are spies and this is your vocation. You are also from two of the finest families in England, and that alone tells me you must be trustworthy. You did not have to bring thatdispatch to me, yet you did. I am grateful. But start from the beginning and tell me how you came across it and who had it.”
Brenton glanced at Creston before continuing. They really hadn’t gotten far into the story of the mysterious dispatch before Creston was insisting they tell Lord Exmoor, which was probably wise. Creston was just a trainer—Lord ExmoorwasBlackchurch. They’d awoken the man out of a dead sleep and explained the situation, but he’d been groggy. Now he was far more alert and asking for the tale to be repeated.
Brenton complied.
“We were at The Pox in London when we came upon a man who claimed his liege intercepted a dispatch from Louis meant for you,” he said. “We—”
St. Sebastian, who had been thus far listening in the shadows, interrupted him. “Whois his liege?” he said. “And did you ask him how he intercepted it?”
Brenton focused on the tall, younger son of St. Denis. “He told us his liege was Lord Sidbury,” he said. “He further told us that the dispatch was brought aboard a French ship and was to be given to a French priest at St. Peter’s in Sidmouth. Instead, it was given over to a priest loyal to Sidbury, and that is how the man came across it. It was Sidbury who decided to send it straight to Henry, according to the messenger.”
The mention of Sidbury had taken the tension of the conversation to an entirely new level. That was not a name that had been expected, but upon their hearing it, confusion reigned. All eyes turned to Creston, who was looking at St. Denis in horror.
“De Bulverton,” he spat. “He’s behind this!”
St. Denis was clearly shocked, but it was St. Sebastian who spoke. “B-but how?” he said. “More importantly, why? We have no history with Sidbury, so why are we involved with this… thislie? To what purpose?”
Creston was genuinely horrified. “I don’t know,” he said, putting a big hand to his forehead as if to hold in his brains so they wouldn’t explode with confusion. “To be honest, I’ve hardly had any interaction with him at all. I do not like the man, so my contact was minimal. Is he trying to get back at me somehow?”
“You are his heir,” Tay pointed out. He’d been grimly listening, standing in the shadows by the door. “Why would he try to jeopardize his heir? That makes no sense.”
“My God,” St. Denis finally muttered. “I think I may know.”
Everyone turned to him. “W-what is it, Papa?” St. Sebastian said. “What do you know?”
St. Denis had to sit down. “I am not certain,” he said. “Mayhap it is nothing at all, but when he was here for Creston’s wedding, he grew angry over an attack that Abelard and his pirates had instigated on Sidmouth a while back. It was evidently quite serious. Is he possibly trying to punish my cousin by putting Blackchurch at risk?”
No one had an answer for him, but St. Sebastian wasn’t satisfied. “I-if he is, then where did he get the dispatch?” he said. “It even has a royal seal.Wheredid it come from?”
“It is clearly a forgery,” Creston said. “The man controls a port and there are many ships that go there to conduct business. Mayhap he came across an actual royal dispatch and saw an opportunity to use it somehow. If a man is determined enough, there is no telling what he can do. But to implicate Blackchurch in something as serious as Louis’ Gascon campaign… that is a declaration of war against Blackchurch. And Blackchurch has a right to defend itself.”
St. Denis was watching him. “We do not fight wars, Cres,” he said quietly. “And you are speaking about the man you are to inherit an earldom from.”
