Six Weeks Later
Farringdon House
London townhome of William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke
“And that iswhat happened, William,” Christopher said. “The last we saw of Kress and the lady, they were heading southeast to join up with the main road that heads north through Lancashire and goes all the way to Scotland.”
They were in the lavish solar of William Marshal’s townhome, the chamber that covered a good portion of the second floor. The walls were elegantly painted, the stone hearth as tall as a man. It was a place that reeked of power, of men of iron, and of the greatness of England’s most legendary knight. It was all things magnificent and English, but at the moment, it was a place where the story of yet one more knight was being told.
The story of another warrior who had succumbed to the power of love.
It wasn’t a story William particularly wanted to hear.
“God’s Bones,” William muttered from his seat next to the hearth. “This is thrice I have heard this story and it does not become any easier to believe. I heard of the rebellion first from Edward de Wolfe’s missive, then from Sherry as he elaborated on it. Now you have told me even more than that. The rebellion has evidently been thwarted, but the woman at the center of all of this never made it to Mountain Dark.”
“Nay, she did not.”
“And she never married Tatius.”
“She did not.”
William grunted, rubbing at his eyes as he realized the extent of this mission gone wrong. Christopher eyed him, trying to gauge just how angry he was; it was why he’d come to London at Alexander’s request, when the man had told William the entire sordid tale of Tatius de Shera and his greedy brothers, and of the Welshwoman who planned to feed a rebellion from the soul of her long-lost daughter.
It was the story of plans gone horribly awry, and of a seething pot of rebels in Conwy and the surrounding countryside, all of them waiting for Cadelyn of Vendotia to fan the flames of discord. It was trouble beyond belief and William had been livid about it. Christopher’s calming influence had been needed to soothe The Marshal’s temper.
“It is an astonishing tale, to be sure,” Christopher said after a moment, as he poured himself another measure of William’s expensive wine. “I spoke with Tatius de Shera myself and he has confirmed all of this. His brothers, lured by promises of Welsh lands from the woman who calls herself Nesta ferch Madog, coerced Tatius into securing the betrothal with you. According to Ellesmere, they planned to do away with him after the marriage so they could continue with their plans for rebellion. They would have destroyed the entire north of Wales, William. Surely you know that.”
William sighed heavily, wiping his hand over his face in sheer disbelief. “With the de Shera army, they could have done a good deal of damage,” he said. “I suppose I should be grateful that Tatius showed courage for once in his life to send word to you for help.”
“Agreed,” Christopher said firmly. “He prevented a catastrophe. Not only that, but according to Sherry, he killed Atilius himself. That took great courage to rid himself of someone he was very much afraid of, the very man who was driving all of this.”
William sat back in his chair, pondering the situation. “Mayhap it was the fear that gave him the strength to do it,” he said. “And what of this woman claiming to be Cadelyn of Vendotia’s mother? Where is she?”
“In my vault,” Christopher said as he sat opposite William. “She is locked safely away from her countrymen. As if this situation can become any stranger, some of the Welshmen we captured with her tell the tale that she is not Nesta ferch Madog at all, but the woman’s crazed sister. They have told us that she killed both her sister and Owain to lay claim to their child to feed her rebellion, though the woman has not confessed to it. Mayhap she never will.”
William grunted. “It would make sense as to why Owain was so desperate for me to take the child and protect her,” he said. “He knew there was darkness surrounding the girl. It seems as if there was, but not from the English– from her own people.”
Christopher nodded. “That is very true,” he said. “But she is safe now.”
William looked at him a moment before snorting, an unhappy and ironic sound. “With de Rhydian,” he scoffed quietly. “First, I lose Maxton of Loxbeare to a woman, and now I lose Kress. My Executioner Knights are falling away, one by one, succumbing to the wiles of women.”
Christopher fought off a grin. “I believe they have fallen in love.”
“It is the same thing.”
“Then you are not going to want to hear that I believe Achilles is next.”
William scowled. “De Dere?” he said. “What has he done? Tell me this instant!”
Christopher started to laugh, trying not to let William see that he thought the man’s reaction comical. “He has not done anything,” he said. “But that lady warrior you sent to protect Lady Cadelyn– Susanna de Tiegh– has the man’s affection, I think.”
“What?” William burst, outraged. “That woman trained at Blackchurch!”
“I was told that.”
“She is as skilled as any warrior in my stable!”
“She is also a woman and from what I have seen, Achilles is fond of her.”
