THE DARK SPAWN
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
PROLOGUE
NOCTEM INTERFECTIS (A Day of Slaying)
The Month of May
Year of Our Lord 1210 A.D.
Farringdon House, London
Property of William Marshal
“What is happening?”A battle-scarred knight with a heavy Irish accent spoke softly. “Does anyone know why we’ve been summoned?”
He was speaking to a group of men, hovering in the same room, standing silently as they waited in the darkness, with only a flickering fire to light the surprisingly ornate solar of one of the greatest knights in England. It was William Marshal’s domain, the lair of England’s greatest agents.
Spies… killers… gentlemen knights.
They had been summoned.
It smelled like death.
The first floor solar of Farringdon House was a meeting place, one that William Marshal used to summon the great andpowerful of England. It covered nearly half of the floor. There was easily room for fifty or more men in the solar with its great stone hearth, exposed beams overhead, and painted walls. The floor was made from thick slats of wood, but pocked from men who had walked upon it with their spurs and heavy boots. It was a spectacular room, meant for men of greatness.
Tonight was no exception.
The knight’s question was met with silence, for truthfully, no one had an answer for him. In fact, they all had the very same question.
Whyhad they been summoned?
Perhaps only one man really had an answer.
“Sit, lads.” Christopher de Lohr, Earl of Hereford and Worcester, took his own advice and planted himself in a cushioned chair next to the hearth. The chair groaned under his bulk. “We shall all know soon enough.”
Words of wisdom from the great earl. The group of knights began to settle down, waiting for William Marshal to make an appearance.
And what a group it was.
The big Irish knight who had asked the question was a legacy knight from the House of de Winter. Sir Bric MacRohan was the biggest, meanest knight this side of Eire and The Marshal found him a particularly effective intimidation tool. Next to him, and related to him by marriage, was Sir Dashiell du Reims, captain of the army for the Duke of Savernake. They didn’t come any more talented than Dash.
Standing over near the enormous and elaborate table that contained wine and refreshments were a few more knights who had decided that drinking their liege’s fine wine and eating the sweets provided were a good enough diversion to pass the time. David de Lohr, Earl of Canterbury and Christopher’s younger brother, was one of them. In a chamber full of talented warriors,David was the crème de la crème. There was no one faster with a blade in all of England. Next to him stood Kress de Rhydian and Achilles de Dere, men who were known throughout England as the original Executioner Knights.
If there was a dirty job, they would do it.
Their leader, Maxton of Loxbeare, was standing near the window, looking out over the London streets as they quieted down for the night. Maxton was a noble knight with a dark streak in him and he owed a debt to The Marshal, which is why he and Kress and Achilles served the man. At least, it had been a debt in the beginning when The Marshal had secured their release from a French prison, but these days, they served him out of loyalty.
They might have been assassins, but they were also men of honor.
But there were more men, still. Kevin de Lara, a young knight of great skill, came from a fine Marcher family, while next to him stood Alexander de Sherrington, another Executioner Knight. He would do anything, to anyone, with no regrets. And leaning against the wall near him was Caius d’Avignon, an enormously tall and formidable knight known as The Britannia Viper.
His name said it all.
Rounding out the group were two of the youngest members in Peter de Lohr, son of Christopher, and Cullen de Nerra, son of the Itinerant Justice of Hampshire. They were great knights from great families, and much was expected of them. As agents for William Marshal, that meant that they were the most elite of warriors.
