Creston was powerless as she began to beat eggs together. When she went to collect the milk, he quickly stirred through the eggs to find any shells and only managed to find two tiny pieces, which was an improvement from the bread pudding the night before. Ophelia came back with the milk and poured some into the eggs, all the while wondering where their guests had disappeared to. They’d gone out but hadn’t come back. Creston wasn’t sure himself, so he left her to prepare her meal and went out to find Brenton and Myles.
They weren’t difficult to locate.
He found them down by Lake Cocytus, the enormous lake that carved through the heart of Blackchurch because Kristian had commenced an early class for his recruits. The morning had been a bit misty, and there was a gray blanket hanging over the lake, so Kristian decided to use that to his advantage. They could see an outline of a ship through the mist and hear Kristian’s voice as he taught his recruits to judge distances in the mist by shouting. Voices would bounce off solid objects, like trees and rocks, and therefore distances to shore could be determined.
The three of them stood there, listening.
“I spoke with one of the other trainers a few minutes ago,” Creston said, referring to his encounter with Ming Tang in the kitchens. “He told me that St. Denis has already sent the missives for his cousin. Five riders have been sent to five different port towns in Cornwall and the north Devon coast in search of St. Abelard and Triton’s Hellions. If they are anchored somewhere, we should hear back from them within the week.”
As Brenton yawned, Myles nodded. “It would be preferable if we are able to contact them sooner rather than later,” he said. “The more time passes that Sidbury doesn’t hear from Henry, the more he may be inclined to send another missive. That’s something we should avoid.”
“Agreed,” Creston said. “Did Sidbury’s messenger tell you how long he’d been traveling with the missive from the time he left the earl’s home?”
Myles cocked his head thoughtfully. “It was my impression that it had been about seven or eight days,” he said, looking at Brenton. “What do you think?”
Brenton yawned again. “The same,” he said. “In all, I do not think that missive had been in transit more than ten days at the most. Surely Sidbury does not expect a swift answer. It could be months.”
“Or weeks,” Creston said. “If we can contact St. Abelard in the next week or two, that will put this plan into action very quickly. Sidmouth is a day and a half to the south on a swift horse.”
They all turned when they heard something hit the water and a good deal of yelling from Kristian. Creston chuckled.
“Clearly, he was unhappy with someone,” he said. “I fear a recruit has gone overboard.”
“Kristian,” Brenton said thoughtfully. “Is that the big lad who looks like a Northman?”
“The same.”
“Fearsome.”
“You have no idea.”
Brenton grinned at the threat of a Viking trainer as Myles looked around the landscape. “There are other classes being taught this morning,” he said. “I saw the big trainer from last night yelling at his recruits as they ran through the paths on the hills. Then there is another one teaching swordplay.”
Creston nodded. “Instruction begins before the sun rises,” he said. “It goes until the sun sets.”
“Where is your class?”
Creston gestured toward the west. “I do not normally teach things that require a field,” he said. “There is an outbuilding that used to house animals on the other side of the dormitory and that is where I usually instruct my class. I teach what tends to be applicable academics.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I get into their heads and then teach them how to resist me,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I teach the things we all dread to face. Interrogation, torture. Those subjects.”
Myles was listening with interest. “Things that the Executioner Knights use on a daily basis.”
“More than likely.”
“Have you ever considered becoming an Executioner Knight?”
Creston grinned. “Nay,” he said. “I like where I am.”
“But the skills and experience you must have could surely be put to better use in the service of England.”
Creston shrugged. “Mayhap,” he said. “But you must remember that I did everything I teach when I served John. I have already used my skills in the service of my country.”
“How long did you serve him?
“Toolong,” Creston said, his voice growing quiet. “I was newly knighted out of Kenilworth when I went into royal service. That was in the year twelve hundred and five. I left his service in twelve hundred and ten. That is five years of hell, lads. Five years of serving a man who slept with the devil every night and had no sense of honor or decency.”
