Sean was watching them from the shadows.
CHAPTER FIVE
“…War is a man’s game, though no one thought to tell her that. She was not only playing with fire, she was seducing it….”
The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara
1206 – 1215 A.D.
The corridor outsideof her apartment was dark and void of the usual guard. Sheridan should have thought that to be strange, but she was too concerned for Neely. When the door to her chambers finally opened, she walked headlong into a room full of the unexpected.
The Earl of Salisbury sat near the blazing hearth along with the bishops of Rochester, Lincoln, Worcester and Coventry. William Marshall stood near a bowl of winter fruit, gorging himself on ripe pears and throwing the cores to the puppy, who was dancing at his feet.
Shocked, she delved further into the room and was greeted by the Earl of Warenne. The Earl of Arundel was back in a corner, conversing quietly with Henry de Neville. The barons Fitz Herbert and Fitz Hugh rounded out the company, older men who had seen much fighting with Henry the Second and Henry St. James. The most powerful men in England filled her antechamber, all quite calmly, and all quite deliberately.
Sheridan’s surprise was full-blown. She had no idea how to react. But it was especially evident when the Bishop of Bath and Glastonbury took her by the arm.
“Jocelin,” she gasped, hugging him fiercely. “When were you released?”
He kissed her hand. “Earlier this afternoon by Neely.”
Her head jerked towards the bedchamber door; Neely stood there, not a bloody mark on him, his dark eyes glittering at her. He bowed chivalrously.
“Oh, my,” she sighed heavily, trying to get a grasp on the situation. “But who released Neely? I do not understand any of this. I was told that Neely was.…”
“I know,” Jocelin patted her hand. “We had to get you back to your apartment without raising suspicions. ’Twas I who sent Millie after you with tales of death.”
Her gaze was still on Neely. “Are you well? How did you get out?”
Neely moved to stand next to her. “It was quite strange, actually,” he said. “A bear of a man opened my cell and grabbed me by the arm, took me to Jocelin’s cell one flight up, and then told us both to leave. I don’t know who he was or why he let us go. But I did not ask questions.”
Another surprise in a night that had been full of them. She mulled over Neely and Jocelin’s release for a few moments until the activity in the room caught her attention again. She looked around the room, awed by the company therein.
“All of these men,” she whispered to Jocelin. “There was no indication in the corridor of their presence. No guards at all.”
“Better not to raise suspicions with a collage of sentinels from all over England announcing a room full of nobles.”
She understood, somewhat. “But why are they here?”
Jocelin’s eyes twinkled. “With the king celebrating the anniversary of his father’s death, certainly he did not expect any of us to attend. So, while he is occupied, so are we. Under his very nose.”
Sheridan could see the strategy now. Shock fading, she was coming to understand the brilliance of such an assembly. No guards in the hall to announce their meeting, and assembling as the king himself was else occupied.
“The last I saw, he was entering the great hall as Jesus entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday,” she said. “Everyone was at his feet.”
“Then he shall be occupied for some time,” Jocelin took her by the elbow and pulled her into the center of the room. “No better time to start than the present. Gentle nobles, if you please. Now that Glastonbury has arrived, let us begin.”
The men around the room put aside their small conversations and Jocelin stepped into the center.
“Thank you for your attention,” he said. “I suspect our time is limited to the duration of John’s degenerate feast, so I shall come to the point. Henry?”
De Neville moved forward. A thin, wiry man, his family had been a fixture in Northumberland since the days of William the Conqueror. He was cunning and he was wise.
“Good men of England,” he began. “There is no need to go into the details of why we are here; we’ve know this time has been long in coming. With John’s recent defeat in France to reclaim his northern territories, he has once again returned to London and to levy more taxes against us and our properties. There was a time when the king would consult with his barons for such a thing, but that time is over. John views himself as an omnipotent emperor, not a king with responsibilities towards his people. We all know that he will tax us into the ground if we do not act.”
The nobles glanced at each other, some knowingly, some nervously. Sheridan knew exactly what they were referring to; she and her father had had long discussions about the consensus of the allies. Though as a woman she should have kept silent,as Henry St. James’ heiress, she controlled the powers of the earldom. She would speak on behalf of her father.
“I have fifteen hundred retainers camped ten miles to the east along the Thames,” she said. “The Bishop of Bath and Glastonbury commands another four hundred. All of these men are awaiting the command to move.”
