The Splendid Hour by Kathryn Le Veque
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Westminster Palace
Liora had never been so frightened in her entire life.
Sitting in a lavish chamber, one with carved wood paneling and gold on the ceiling, it would have been beautiful under any other circumstances. But at the moment, all she could see was darkness and unfamiliarity and men all around her. She had been escorted into this chamber or, more precisely, dragged by the same man who had put his hand on her breast and then laughed about it when she slapped his hand. He’d put her in the chair and then stood back as other men came into the chamber.
She had no idea what had happened to her father.
“I do not understand why I am here,” she said, her cloak pulled tightly around her trembling body. “Why was I wrested from my home and brought here? Where is my father?”
The man who was doing the questioning sat across from her in a chair that cost more than a rich man would earn in an entire year. He was older, with dark hair that had gone to gray around his face and one droopy eye. He’d entered the chamber with several other men who were now back in the shadows while the man with the droopy eye interrogated her.
The silent eyes watched her, waiting.
But Liora had no idea what, exactly, they were waiting for.
“Something has happened,” the man said. “I have discovered your treachery. Now I must discover what you know, so kindly answer my questions and your father will remain perfectly safe. Deny me and it is possible that he will not be.”
Liora looked at him in horror. “What does that mean?” she said, struggling not to panic. “What is it I have done?”
Someone handed the man a cup of wine. This oddly gentle interrogation session had been going on for the better part of two hours and, at first, it had been relatively benign. The man with the droopy eye had asked her about her family, her father’s work, and who her father’s rich customers were. Liora had answered him steadily, asking occasional questions of her own, which went ignored.
Now, the tension in the chamber seemed to be growing in intensity. For as roughly as she was removed from her home, she’d not expected this strangely pleasant reception.
But that was about to change.
“You are Peter de Lohr’s lover, are you not?” the man asked.
Liora was blindsided by the question. That was not something she had expected to hear and, now, she could feel the stakes of the situation taking an even more confusing turn. Confusing, but at the same time, more focused because if they were asking her a question about Peter, then this entire incident must be about Peter.
So she thought.
“I… I do not understand,” she said. “Why would you ask that question?”
“Answer me. Are you Peter’s lover?”
Liora didn’t know what to say. Everything between her and Peter had been private for the most part, certainly nothing to speak of to family and friends. At least, not beyond Haim and Peter’s father. She looked at the man in the chair hesitantly before her gaze moved to the men back in the shadows.
“Is that why I am here?” she asked, her voice starting to tremble. “You wish to know about Peter?”
“I wish to know if you are his lover and you are not giving me an answer.”
“Nay, I am not his lover.”
The man sighed heavily. “I have it on good authority that you are lying,” he said. “I have received information to the contrary. I am told that you have seduced Peter and are part of the de Lohr rebellion. Is this true?”
Liora was horrified. “It is not true,” she said. “I have not seduced him and I would know nothing about a rebellion other than there is one going on. Everyone knows that. Peter and I have only carried on a few conversations, but nothing else. Are you… does this have to do with Agnes de Quincy?”
“What about Agnes?”
“Peter was hiding from her and he hid in my kitchen yard. That is how I met him.”
That seemed to bring the man pause. “He hid in your yard?”
She nodded. “He said that he was being followed.”
“And you let him remain?”
“I did. I did not see any harm in it.”
The man looked at his group, having an expression of great confusion. Liora looked at him anxiously until he returned his focus on her and slapped the side of his chair. The sound made her leap.
“You will cease this foolery and tell me what I want to know!” he nearly shouted. “I have tried to be kind to you, but you are making it very difficult. Tell me what things you have told Peter!”
Liora recoiled, sitting as far back in her chair as she could get. “About what?”
The man slapped his chair again and leaned forward, his eyes boring into her. “What information have you wrested from your father that you would tell Peter and his father?”
“I’ve not wrested anything from my father!”
“Lies!”
It was turning into a shouting match and Liora’s eyes filled with tears, having no idea what the man wanted from her. He started to move in her direction but he was stopped when someone leaned over and whispered in his ear. That seemed to visibly calm him and, after a moment, he nodded and rose from the chair. He filtered out of the chamber, followed by his entourage and leaving only one man behind. When the door closed, the lone man sat down in the same chair that the man with the droopy eye had occupied.
Liora found herself looking at an older man with yellowed eyes.
“My name is William Marshal,” the man said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “You do not know why you are here, do you?”
Liora had heard that name. Everyone in London had heard that name. She didn’t know if she should be relieved or even more frightened facing the great Earl of Pembroke.
The mystery deepened.
“Nay,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Where is my father? Why were we brought here?”
William held up a hand to quiet her before standing up and going to the door in the chamber. He listened for a moment before putting his hand on the latch and yanking the door open. Liora watched him curiously as he stepped into the corridor and looked around. Seemingly satisfied that no one was eavesdropping, he stepped back inside and shut the door, bolting it.
He returned to the chair.
“Now,” he said quietly. “I am going to tell you why you are here, but you must be perfectly truthful with me. Can you do that?”
Liora nodded firmly. “Of course I can,” she said. “I swear it. But why am I here?”
William pulled the chair a little closer to her so that he could keep his voice down. “The king wished to continue interrogating you and even wants to turn you over to his personal guard should you not give him the answers he seeks, but I have convinced him to let me try.”
Liora cocked her head curiously. “The king?” she repeated. “He was here?”
“He was in this chair.”
Liora’s eyes widened with the realization. “I did not know, my lord,” she said. “I have never even seen him before.”
William nodded and put a hand up to silence her. “I know,” he said. “But listen to me now. You are here because late last night, the king received a missive bearing the Earl of Winchester’s seal stating that you are part of the rebellion against the king because you are wresting the king’s secrets from your father and feeding them to Peter de Lohr. Is this true?”
The color drained from her face. “Nay, of course not,” she said, terror in her voice. “My father would not know any of the king’s secrets and even if he did, he would never tell me. And Peter… it is true what I told you. He hid in my kitchen yard because he was hiding from a woman named Agnes de Quincy.”
The Marshal sat back in the chair, pondering her explanation and trying to piece the situation together. “Does Agnes know he hid in your yard?” he asked, but then he answered his own question. “Never mind. I am certain she knew. Her father has spies following Peter everywhere he goes, so she must have known.”
Liora wasn’t following him. “Spies? What spies?”
William didn’t answer her. He was following a mental trail, putting together scraps of information from what he knew and from what Liora was telling him. What he didn’t tell her was that he had spies all over the city, too. That was his business. He knew that Peter had his eye on the daughter of the king’s jeweler since yesterday when Peter and Alexander hadn’t attended the meeting he’d called at Lonsdale. A few discreet questions to Marcus Burton, of all people, and he was aware that Peter was fond of a certain lovely Jewess.
But that was all he knew until now.
Now, he could definitely see that something was afoot.
“So Agnes and Walter knew of Peter’s interest in a young woman on Milk Street because they followed him there,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Walter has been trying to force Peter into a betrothal for months but Peter is not interested. So when his spies saw Peter with you, they assumed that there was something between you two.”
Liora was understanding him a little more now. She knew the names of Agnes and Peter, of course, and she knew that Peter had been hiding from Agnes. Pembroke was simply elaborating on that. She watched as he stood up and went to the wine that was on a table against the wall.
He poured himself a cup, thinking.
“I have never known Walter to be the vengeful sort, but it is the only explanation that makes sense,” he said. “Seeing Peter with the jeweler’s daughter, he sent the king a missive about you to remove you from the equation. If the jeweler’s daughter is locked up for treason, then Agnes’ path to Peter is made clear. Walter can continue to press a betrothal between his daughter and Peter.”
Liora was coming to see what William was coming to see. “This… this man has told everyone I am a traitor to the king?”
William turned to look at her. “It has to be him,” he said. “The missive the king received about you, though it was anonymous, bore the seal of the Earl of Winchester. That is Walter’s cousin and he is staying with the man here in London. If Winchester did not write the missive, and I would be willing to wager money that he did not, then it had to be by someone who had access to his seal – and that brings us back to Walter.”
It occurred to Liora that this had nothing to do with her father, or their religion, or any number of factors. This had to do with Agnes de Quincy and nothing more. The realization had her slumping back against the chair.
“Prophets save us,” she muttered. “A man I do not even know is trying to ruin me? Worse still, ruin my father in the eyes of the king?”
William came back over to the chair and sat in front of her. “Tell me truthfully what your relationship is with Peter,” he said. “If I am to help you, I must know everything, but you must never mention that I intend to help you. No matter what I say or do, you must keep silent on the matter and have faith that I will do all I can to save you. Do you believe me?”
Liora looked into his eyes and realized that, although she didn’t know Pembroke, she had no choice but to trust him. She was in a world where men she didn’t even know were trying to harm her, so it stood to reason that she would trust a man she didn’t know to save her.
She was willing to go on a little faith.
“Peter… he wants to marry me,” she said quietly. “He has discussed the situation with a rabbi at the Great Synagogue so that he understands the challenges of such a thing. He has discussed the situation with his father and with my father.”
William’s white eyebrows slowly lifted. “I cannot imagine Chris has taken this lightly,” he said. “What did Hereford say?”
Liora had to force herself to speak it out. The situation was still so very new and, in a sense, still quite surreal. She didn’t want to speak out of turn, but if she had already told Peter she would convert to Christianity for him, then she supposed there was no turning back now. The wheels were in motion. She wanted to marry the man and there was no denying the fact.
“He was not happy at first,” she said truthfully. “There can be no interfaith marriage between me and Peter. We must be all Christian or all Jewish, and Peter said that he would convert to Judaism to marry me. His father reminded him that if he did so, he would lose everything.”
“That is very true,” William said quietly. “Peter is the eldest de Lohr son and his father holds a great empire. Peter has a great deal to lose should he renounce his knighthood.”
“I know,” Liora said. “I told him that I would not allow him to do so and that I would convert. It makes the most sense that I should do so because I have the least to lose.”
William found that an interesting statement. “Converting from Judaism is not a simple thing,” he said. “Your religion is your way of life. It is everything you know. It is the food you eat and the prayers you give. You would be willing to relinquish that for the uncertainty of a life that you are not familiar with?”
Liora didn’t sense any judgment, but simply an honest question. She met it with an honest answer.
“My life has been planned for me,” she said. “I am the eldest daughter of Haim ben Thad. I have been raised to be a good wife, to manage a home for my husband, and to be pleasing and educated. But the truth is that the best I could hope for is marrying a horse trader. It is not as bad as it sounds, because the man my father chose for me is wealthy and kind, but the life as the wife of a horse trader… living my life with a man I do not yearn for… is not something I am willing to settle for, only I did not realize this until I met Peter. My lord… do you know him well?”
William nodded faintly. “I do,” he said. “He serves his father and he has served me on many occasions.”
“Is it fair to say that he is a good and just man?”
“The finest,” William said without hesitation. “Peter is the future of this country. He bears de Lohr blood and that makes him a better man that most. But you must understand that marrying into the House of de Lohr will be quite different from the life you lead now.”
“It does not matter so long as I am married to Peter. I am confident I can learn all he wishes for me to learn.”
William’s brow furrowed because he thought she sounded a bit unrealistic. “I am sure you can,” he said. “But living a life with Peter will be as different as if you moved from your home in London and took up residence on the moon. You are in for a life of great excitement, pageantry, life and death, battles and politics, and with Peter right in the middle of it. It will not be a quiet life, my lady. Your husband will not be as safe as he would be if he were a horse trader.”
She smiled faintly. “I have been told that,” she said. “It is not that I am ignorant to the fact that it will be very different. It is the fact that I would rather live a different life with Peter than a familiar one without him. My lord, there are things we can control in our lives to a certain extent – our friends, the food we eat, where we live. Basic things. But we cannot control what the heart demands. I am under no illusion that this will be a simple thing, but I am under the belief that, ultimately, it will be worth the risk. If I do not take the chance, then I will never know. And I shall always regret it.”
William wasn’t going to argue with her about it. Her mind seemed set. In fact, he was coming to respect her because no matter the challenge before her, she was prepared to face it. He could see what Peter had found so fascinating in her because had he been a younger man, he might have found her fascinating, too.
He was rather partial to beautiful, intelligent women.
But they still had an immediate problem.
“Then I wish you well,” he said. “But right now, we have a pressing problem and that is the fact that the king believes you are somehow tied to the rebel warlords. He believes you are a traitor to him and, subsequently, he believes your father is a traitor to him.”
Liora was back to being frightened. “But how?” she asked. “My father knows nothing. He is simply a jeweler and nothing more. He is not involved in political intrigue.”
“That may be, but the moment you harbored Peter de Lohr in your yard, he became involved,” William said. “I am not entirely sure how this will be resolved, but I will do my best. Meanwhile, you are going to be a guest of the king for tonight. Your father, too, although I may be able to secure his release sooner. For the fact that I must put you under lock and key now, I do not want you to despair. It must be done until the king forgets about you and moves on to something else. I think I can convince him that you are innocent, but it may take time.”
Liora wasn’t feeling much hope. In fact, she was feeling rather sick. “Whatever you can do to clear up the misconception is much appreciated, my lord,” she said. But then she paused, studying him for a moment. “May I ask why you should help me?”
William stood up from the chair. “Because the moment I heard John speak of the mysterious missive libeling the jeweler’s daughter and Peter de Lohr, I was compelled to get to the bottom of things,” he said. “What concerns the House of de Lohr concerns me. If that does not answer your question, suffice it to say that if Peter wishes to marry you, and the king holds you, there will be trouble even more than there already is. So what I do, I do to avoid trouble.”
She nodded, trying very hard to be brave because she wasn’t as bad off as she could have been. At least she had one ally in the Earl of Pembroke and she thanked God for that.
“You have my thanks, my lord,” she said. “I am very grateful.”
William simply nodded, moving for the door, but something made him pause. He looked at Liora again, his eyes glittering in the weak light.
“Can you scream?” he asked.
She looked at him strangely. “I can. Why?”
“Can you act like you are terrified and hysterical?”
She nodded unsteadily. “It is not far from the truth.”
A smile flickered across his lips. “Then you will do something for me.”
Leaning in to her, he whispered something in her ear.
A few minutes later, the door to the chamber opened and the sounds of hysteria filled the corridor. William had Liora by the arm as she screamed and fought against him, falling to her knees and begging him for mercy. He ended up dragging her, on her knees, halfway up the corridor until he came to several royal guards.
“Find me a chamber I can lock her in,” he barked.
The guards rushed to do Pembroke’s bidding. They ended up locking her in an upstairs chamber that, at one time, had belonged to a former advisor. Now, it simply sat dusty and unused, so William all but tossed Liora into the chamber and slammed the door, using the brass key that was already in the lock to secure her.
He could hear her screaming on the other side.
The guards were happy to leave the hysterical woman in peace, which was exactly what William wanted. John’s men had little to no control, and a lovely young woman wouldn’t escape their notice. He held the only key, as far as he knew, but guards could be clever. They might try to get to her regardless, so the screaming – and hysterics – were designed to keep them away.
But he knew it wouldn’t last forever.
With Liora secured, his thoughts turned to the king. He headed to the ground floor where he found John in the solar he favored, the one that faced Westminster Abbey. The corridors were narrow, long, and high-ceilinged, and the great double-doors opened into a fairly lavish chamber where the king and a few men were gathering. When they saw William enter, all attention turned in his direction.
William held up a hand.
“Be at ease,” he said, focusing on the king. “I questioned the lady extensively and I am satisfied that she is not part of any rebel activity. In fact, I found her too dense to believably be part of anything.”
The king looked at him seriously. “Are you certain?” he said. “What about her ties to de Lohr?”
The Marshal shook his head irritably. “There are no ties that I can assess,” he said. “She has met the man and she has spoken to him, but I do not believe she is a seductress. That being said, I think I know the origins of the missive you received – you are familiar with Walter de Quincy, your grace.”
John nodded. “Winchester’s cousin.”
“Did you notice the seal on the mysterious missive you received?”
“It was Winchester’s.”
William smiled thinly. “There is dissention in the ranks of the warlords these days,” he said, though it wasn’t exactly true. He just wanted the king to think so. “Walter de Quincy and Hereford are fighting amongst themselves and I believe that missive was de Quincy’s attempt to disrupt Hereford. As I understand it, the jeweler’s daughter met Peter de Lohr when he was hiding from de Quincy’s unpleasant daughter, Agnes, who wants very much to marry Peter. What better way to get back at de Lohr than strike out at an innocent woman who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time? Nay, my lord, I do not think there is anything afoot with the jeweler’s daughter or the jeweler. I think it is de Quincy causing trouble.”
John scratched his cheek as he pondered that bit of information, looking at the other men in the room, one of which was Richard de Percy, a warlord from Northumberland and one of the few from that region who sided with the king.
“What do you hear about that, Richard?” John asked. “Is de Quincy capable of that kind of deceit?”
Richard snorted. “Your grace, the man’s veins are full of ambition,” he said. “I must say that I agree with Pembroke. I would not put it past him. That missive was too mysterious for my taste.”
John eyed him. “It was concerning enough that you agreed I should send soldiers out at sunrise to bring Haim and his daughter here,” he said. “Now you say there is no trouble?”
William spoke up for de Percy. “I do not believe so,” he said. “The girl is quite hysterical so I was forced to lock her away for her own good. I suggest we release her in the morning along with her father and be more cautious of anything coming from Walter de Quincy in the future.”
He was trying to make it sound benign, like it was a situation that wasn’t worth the trouble. William thought that if he made it seem casual, the king would think it was as well. John was, if nothing else, pliable to his advisors and, at times, easily swayed.
William wanted this to be one of those times.
“Very well,” John said, turning back to his wine, even at this time in the morning. “I like Haim well enough. He does good work, so that should afford him some consideration from me. Release them both and we’ll hear no more about it.”
William breathed a sigh of relief. “Excellent decision, your grace.”
John paused as he picked up a cup. “Although…” he said thoughtfully. “The daughter is quite beautiful. I do not suppose any of you noticed that.”
William wasn’t so relieved any longer. He knew John well enough to know that tone. The man had no restraint when it came to a lovely woman and it didn’t matter who she was. He was vile in his desires, something Sean de Lara had to deal with for the nine long years he was in service to the king. Sean could usually control the damage somewhat, but not always. Now, there was no Sean and the lascivious king had free rein in everything he did.
But William wasn’t going to let him if he could at all help it.
“She is lovely, but she is not worth the trouble,” he said steadily. “You have an excellent relationship with the Jews of London and they have provided you with a good deal of capital for your armies. Their bankers have helped you with outstanding debts and other things, so I would suggest you leave the jeweler’s daughter alone. You do not want to rouse the anger of men who control the finances of the London… and you.”
That was very true. John had always worked well with the Jewish businessmen of London because they provided a definite service for him. In fact, under John’s rule, the Jews had enjoyed an enormous amount of peace and prosperity. Therefore, John evidently relinquished any thoughts of pursuing the jeweler’s daughter and turned back to his wine without another word. William once again breathed a sigh of relief and intended to head out of the solar to release the jeweler when he ran headlong into one of John’s guards.
“My lord,” the guard said. “I’ve a message from the gatehouse.”
William was still in the doorway, having not quite made it out of the chamber. “What message?”
The guard looked between The Marshal and the king. “Peter de Lohr is at the gatehouse, demanding to be admitted,” he said. “He says he wants to see the king.”
Seized with apprehension, William put his hand on the guard’s chest in an attempt to shove him out of the room so the name of Peter would not be heard by the king, but it was too late. John had heard him. He shouted before William could remove the guard.
“Wait!” he said. “Peter de Lohr is here?”
William closed his eyes for a brief moment before turning to John. “I will deal with him,” he said steadily. “You needn’t trouble yourself. I will send him away.”
John was on his feet. “Wait,” he said again, more firmly. “Is it a coincidence that he has come, Pembroke? You told me the jeweler’s daughter had no relationship with him.”
“She does not,” William said. “Of that, I am certain. Peter must be here on another matter.”
It was clear that John was coming to think that William was trying to deceive him, which he was. But John wasn’t quite certain of it, not yet. His dark eyes took on a faint glimmer.
“We shall see,” he said. “Bring him to me immediately. I will speak with him.”
William didn’t have a choice. All he could do was agree as he pushed past the guard and headed out of the palace, heading for the gatehouse where Peter was waiting. How on earth Peter knew that Liora was at Westminster, he didn’t know, but he did know one thing – now it was going to be a hell of a mess. If the king believed that Liora was truly involved with Peter, then all of William’s work would be ruined. In fact, a great deal would be ruined.
The situation was about to go from bad to worse, but more than he knew. Just as he went down to admit Peter at the gatehouse, the king sent someone for Liora, who remained behind a locked door.
But not for long.
A few well-placed ax strokes from one of John’s household guards saw to that.
*
Peter was ahair’s width from losing his control as he stood at the north gatehouse of Westminster Palace.
Alexander, Caius, and Maxton were with them and Alexander had quietly explained the issue because Peter was too wound up to speak. He was pacing around, his face like stone, his gaze on the portcullis, which was lowered. He couldn’t see much other than a courtyard and the carefully landscape gardens that Westminster was known for. He finally came to a halt and planted himself right in front of the portcullis, focused on the activity beyond like a hunter focused on his prey. He completely missed his father riding up in the company of David and Marcus, the men dismounting their horses as Alexander tried to call them off.
“I told you not to come,” Alexander hissed. “Chris, you are leading a rebellion. John would like nothing better than to get you into the walls of Westminster and lock you in the vault. You must leave.”
Christopher was looking over Alexander’s head at his son, standing in front of the portcullis and being carefully watched by the palace guards.
“I cannot leave him alone with this situation,” he said.
Alexander did something then that he wouldn’t normally do. He pushed Christopher back towards his horse and indicated David and Marcus to go, too.
“Get out of here before someone in a position of power sees you,” he growled. “The last thing we need on the eve of battle is for Christopher de Lohr to be imprisoned by the king. Do you have any idea what that would do to your allies?”
Christopher knew that. He knew that very well. But he simply couldn’t let his son face John alone.
“Sherry…” he said, a hint of hazard in his tone. “I cannot let Peter deal with this alone.”
Alexander’s eyebrows flew up. “He is not alone,” he said. “Look who is with him – me, Max, and Cai. Do you think we will let anything happen to him?”
“Of course not.”
“Then get out of sight,” Alexander said. “Get out and stay out. I will send you word if we end up going inside. Please, Chris… go.”
“But I must be near.”
“Then go to Hollyhock House,” Alexander said, pointing to the river road that would take them right to Hollyhock House, which was less than a mile away. “De Winter will let you stay there until we know more.”
Christopher looked at David and Marcus, both of whom reluctantly nodded. Therefore, he mounted up and directed his horse back the way he’d come. David and Marcus followed behind him as they headed off to the de Winter stronghold. When they were out of sight, Alexander turned back to Peter.
Maxton and Caius were standing with him now, all of them watching the activity beyond the lowered portcullis. It was Maxton who finally hissed at Alexander.
“Sherry,” he said. “The Marshal is coming.”
That brought Alexander to the portcullis as well, just in time to see William crossing from one of the larger inner gatehouses. Westminster was a maze of chapels, apartments, and administration chambers spread out over a massive plot of land. It was a city unto itself and as The Marshal drew near, he motioned to the gatehouse guards to raise the portcullis. It started to lift and Peter and Alexander ducked under it, but The Marshal threw out a hand.
“Nay, Sherry,” he said. “Only Peter. You and Max and Cai wait here.”
Alexander backed off, but it was with great hesitation. Once Peter was under the portcullis and it lifted all the way to the top, The Marshal reached out to grab him.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
Peter’s fair face was pale, his jaw ticking angrily. “There is a woman I…”
The Marshal cut him off. “I know of Mistress Liora,” he hissed. “I know all about the two of you. She is here with her father and I nearly had the king convinced to release them both when you showed up. Now, John wants to see you.”
Peter looked at him, his anger faltering. “You know?”
“Of course I know,” The Marshal snapped. “There isn’t much I do not know. But your appearance here has mucked up the situation, Peter. I am very angry with you.”
Peter looked at the man, exasperated. “Then if you know as you say you do, you also know that I had to come,” he said. “Liora’s little brother showed up at Lonsdale, telling us a hysterical tale of Liora and her father being abducted by John’s soldiers.”
“It is true.”
“Why?”
The Marshal could see Alexander, Caius, and Maxton standing in an uncertain huddle beneath the portcullis. Lifting a hand, he indicated for the gate guards to close it, which shoved the three men back and away from it. He began to walk back the way he’d come, taking Peter with him.
“This is all speculation, but I believe it to be true,” he said as they headed towards the inner gatehouse that led to the royal apartments. “I believe Walter de Quincy is behind this.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “De Quincy?”
The Marshal nodded. “We all know that he has spies watching you,” he said. “He must have seen you with the jeweler’s daughter, enough to believe that she was a threat to his ambition to marry Agnes to you. So last night, the king received a missive that was not signed yet bore the seal of Winchester. The missive said that the jeweler’s daughter was part of the rebellion, purging the king’s secrets from her father and passing them on to you. The king believes that Mistress Liora is a spy for you and your father.”
Peter came to a halt, his eyes bugging. “My God,” he breathed. “It’s not true!”
The Marshal nodded. “I know,” he said. “But that is why she was brought here. I almost had the king convinced to release her when you showed up, so now we are about to dance a very delicate dance, Peter. You must do everything I tell you or it will go very badly for Mistress Liora and her father.”
Peter was pale with shock and realization. Something his father said occurred to him then. “After the meeting you called at Lonsdale yesterday, de Quincy threatened my father with something quite similar,” he said. “He had seen me and Liora together, somehow, and told my father that unless he agreed to a betrothal between me and Agnes, then Walter was going to tell the warlords that I was a traitor because I was giving secrets to Liora to pass to her father and, eventually, to the king.”
The Marshal grunted unhappily. “So it is Walter,” he said. “The man wants you for his daughter very badly, Peter, enough to ruin the lives of people he does not even know. That speaks of madness.”
“It speaks of an evil, vindictive man,” Peter agreed. “What do we do?”
The Marshal started walking again. “The king believes you are here to speak to him about Liora and her father,” he said. “He is looking for confirmation that she is, indeed, a spy, but you must not give it to him. Speak to him about anything else, but not Liora. He already knows that you know her, so you cannot deny it, but you must make it seem as if you met her on whim and nothing more. She has told us about meeting you in her kitchen yard when you were hiding from Agnes.”
Peter nodded, his mind quickly processing what he was being told. “It is true,” he said. “I just happened to end up there and she let me stay until the threat passed, taunting me the entire time. Somehow… somehow, I fell in love with her. We want to marry, you know.”
“I know, but you must not bring that up, no matter what,” The Marshal said. “Peter, I will tell you something that I told the others when we met at Lonsdale yesterday. With Sean de Lara out of commission, I have taken his place. Do you wonder why I have sided with the king? It is because he must be watched and, right now, I am the best person for that task. My heart, my loyalty, is to the rebellion, but that must not be made known. John must think it is with him.”
Peter looked at the old knight. Inarguably, the greatest knight England had ever seen, a man who worked his way up from the fourth son of a minor nobleman to one of the most important men in England. He’d risked his life, all of his life, for the greater good of England. Above all of his fret and strain, Peter could see how much William Marshal was sacrificing. It made his problems seem pale by comparison, but they were his problems.
He intended to get everyone out of this intact.
“I understand, my lord,” he said. “What do you wish me to tell the king my purpose is?”
The Marshal seemed to visibly relax now that Peter had agreed to be cooperative. “I have thought about that,” he said. “The best subject I can come up with at such short notice is this – your father is a fine purveyor of horses and he has more than he knows what to do with, but the king recently came into possession of one of the finest Belgian warmbloods I have ever seen. The stallion’s name is Porthos and the king has been speaking about selling him at a great price because his progeny would be worth a good deal of money, so you can tell the king you’ve come to speak about buying the horse for your father.”
Peter looked at him with doubt. “And he would believe that?”
“He would,” he said. “Business is business. He may be your father’s enemy, but for the right price, he would sell his own mother. Better still, you can tell him that you wish to purchase the animal for yourself because, as your father’s bastard, you need to build your own empire since you will inherit nothing from him. I am sorry if this seems weak, but it is the best I can come up with.”
They passed through the inner gatehouse with the royal apartments looming ahead. Peter felt a distinct sense of doom run through his veins at the sight, but he squared his shoulders. Liora was somewhere in that structure and he intended to do everything he could to secure her release. But according to The Marshal, he’d fouled that up simply by coming to Westminster.
Therefore, he was going to have to think fast and trust The Marshal.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “I will do all that I can.”
“Good,” The Marshal said, relief in his tone. “I will release Mistress Liora and her father as I had planned, but only if the king believes you. It is up to you, Peter.”
Peter knew that. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.
The cool, dim innards of the royal apartments swallowed them up and Peter ended up following The Marshal down a corridor, into an enormous hall, and then into another corridor. He’d been in the halls of Westminster before, but it had been years ago. He didn’t remember it smelling quite so musty or being quite so dark. The Marshal led him into a chamber that, at first glance, had several men in it.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, for there was very little natural light in the chamber, he saw the king sitting on a chair on the far side of the chamber. But what he saw sitting next to the king caused him to start.
The Marshal grabbed his wrist, stilling him.
Liora was sitting next to the king, tears streaming down her face and Peter seriously thought he was going to ruin the entire plan then and there. His instinct was to run to her, killing any man who stood in his way, the king included.
But he knew he couldn’t.
He was trapped.
Oh, God…
“Welcome, young de Lohr,” the king said, a smile playing on his lips. “I was just telling your seductress how much I know about the de Lohr family and how you are the result of your father’s lack of restraint. Lady Amanda, was it? I remember your mother, actually. I think she had more than one lover, which means your father could be anyone, but you look so much like Christopher that there is no denying the bloodlines.”
Peter turned to stone, from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. He tensed up as he had never tensed in his life and there was a retort on his lips that would have started a brawl, so he bit it off. He shoved it down, swallowed it, praying he could keep it down because all he wanted to do at the moment was fly at the man and cut his head off.
That was where he would start.
He wouldn’t end until the man was in pieces.
Bastard!
“Your grace,” he greeted with far more serenity than he felt. “I realize my appearance is a surprise, but I have come on a business matter.”
He completely blew off John’s insults, which only made the king laugh. A soft, snickering laugh.
“My, you are pleasant today,” he said. “Have you nothing to say about your lover sitting next to me?”
Peter’s gaze moved to Liora, who was pale and terrified. It took every ounce of strength not to react to that, but he knew he couldn’t, for all their sakes.
“Although she is attractive enough, regretfully, the lady is not my lover,” he said, almost callously. “Liora ben Thad, isn’t it? Her father is a jeweler.”
“You have been seen with this woman, de Lohr,” John said, becoming less amused. “Do not pretend as if you hardly know her. I have it on good authority that she is your lover.”
Peter shook his head. “My father would not be pleased were I to take a Jewess for a lover so, alas, whoever told you such a thing has lied to your royal ears,” he said. “No de Lohr takes a Jew for a lover. In fact, I came to speak with you on a business matter regarding my father. Well, actually, it is more about me, but I assume that I must speak to you directly.”
Getting no reaction out of Peter whatsoever did not please John in the least. He frowned. “What business?” he snapped. “I have no business with you.”
“Not at the moment, your grace,” Peter said. “But I understand you have a Belgian stallion you are thinking on selling and given that you own him, I am sure he has the finest bloodlines. Normally, I would not bother you with such a thing, but my father has made it clear that I shall receive little to no inheritance from his estates, so I must build my own empire. Horse breeding is quite lucrative.”
John’s face contorted with confusion. “You’ve come to discuss a horse?” he said. “Who told you about this animal?”
Peter shrugged, thinking quickly and desperately. He didn’t have a planned answer for that question, but he knew he couldn’t tell him the truth. “I have spent a good deal of time in London this summer,” he said. “I… I heard some of your soldiers speaking of it. They populate the taverns in London, you know, particularly The Pox. I heard someone mention that you had a fine breeding stallion.”
It was plausible enough. Barely. He was rather proud of himself for thinking so quickly. But John’s features were still twisted in confusion as he looked to The Marshal. “Is it possible you were correct?” he said. “De Quincy is behind all of this?”
The Marshal nodded faintly. “I asked young de Lohr the same questions you have and these are the same answers I received.”
That didn’t please John at all. This whole situation had turned markedly against him. But he was a sly, cunning man. He knew how to get answers. Something about Peter de Lohr’s appearance was just too coincidental for his taste, considering he was holding a woman who was accused of being his lover and spying for the rebellion – and, suddenly, Peter made an appearance.
Nay, it was too coincidental.
Either The Marshal was in on it or he was being bamboozled by a clever de Lohr son.
He intended to find out.
“Very well, young Peter. Let us speak on the horse. But since you have denied this woman as your lover, you will not mind if I take her for mine. She has a magnificent figure that will suit my appetites quite nicely.” He turned to his personal guard, men behind him. Men of greed and lust, horrific men who had an even worse reputation than the king. “Take her to my chamber and… prepare her. I will not stop you from tasting her, but leave enough of her so that I might have my fill, also.”
It was a horrific thing to say. Given John’s reputation, there was no doubt that he meant what he said. He didn’t bluff. Peter’s resolve had been rock-solid until that moment and he heard himself shouting before he could stop himself.
“Nay!”
That brought everything in the chamber to a halt.
The only sound was that of Liora, weeping, as John’s men yanked her out of the chair next to the king. They were pawing at her and she screamed, biting the hand of a man who had her by the arm. When he yelped and let go, she managed to wrench herself away from those pawing hands and raced to Peter, who wrapped her up in one big arm while yanking a nasty-looking dagger out from his waist.
The message was clear.
For a moment, no one spoke a word. The Marshal had moved away from Peter, realizing the entire charade was finished. He had to think fast to salvage the situation or all would be lost. Peter would be dead, the woman he loved would be a king’s mistress, and the situation would horribly deteriorate when Christopher found out.
He’d told Peter that the man’s appearance had mucked up the situation.
Now, it was positively a swamp.
“Wait!” he shouted, holding up his hands as John’s guard began to unsheathe their weapons. “No swords, do you hear me? Put them away or we’ll have Hereford burning this place down around our ears. Do it!”
He boomed it so loudly that the guards began to comply. No one disobeyed an order from William Marshal, not even John’s guards. The king hadn’t moved except to look at Peter with a smarmy expression on his face suggesting he finally had the answer he wanted.
This was what he’d been hoping for.
“So,” he said casually. “Mayhap you were incorrect in your reply to me, young Peter. Would you care to rephrase your stance on this young woman? I must have misunderstood you. I cannot imagine that you would lie to my face.”
Peter was caught. He knew he was caught. Liora was in his arms, weeping softly, her soft and warm body clinging to him. She felt so good in his arms that it was a temptation to give in to the joy of it. To hold her – really hold her – was one of the most satisfying things he’d ever experienced. All he knew was that he was ready to fight to the death for her, even against the king’s highly trained guard.
He was prepared to die.
“You asked me if she was my lover, your grace, and she is not,” he said. “Not technically, at least not yet. She is the woman I intend to marry. When we marry, she most certainly will be my lover. She will be my everything.”
John’s eyebrows lifted. “A de Lohr marry a Jew?” he scoffed. “What does your father say to this?”
Peter wouldn’t take his eyes off the king or the men behind him, but he had to resist the urge to look at Liora. He wanted to look at her to reaffirm his commitment, his dedication, his attraction. All of those things. He wanted to see the look in her eyes when he told the king that, aye, a de Lohr would marry a Jew. They’d spoken of it. He’d declared his intentions to his father. But now, he was declaring it to the king in a very dicey situation. If he was indeed serious about it, now was the moment of truth.
He wanted her to see his truth.
“He says that he cannot live my life for me, your grace,” he said. “But he supports whatever decision I make.”
John’s gaze lingered on him. “Then the jeweler’s daughter means a great deal to you.”
“She does, your grace. I love her.”
John snorted. “With her attractiveness, she could lure many a man to love her,” he said rudely. But he gestured to the dagger Peter still had lifted. He hadn’t sheathed it when The Marshal had ordered him to. “You realize that you will not leave here alive should you try to escape.”
“Mayhap,” Peter said. “But I will not let you have her.”
John stroked his chin, glancing at the men behind him, seeing guards that would kill and die for him. Men who were close to him, who always did his bidding. They were his mindless animals and there was something to be said for mindless animals, but something was missing among them.
The Lord of the Shadows that he had lost.
He missed Sean even though the man had betrayed him. Nine years of a strong relationship with a beast of a man who had done anything asked of him, and now, he was gone. Sean had brains and skill along with the talent that the rest of his simpleminded guards had. John surrounded himself with brute strength and that was why those men were present, but with Sean, he’d surrounded himself with a man who became a trusted advisor as well. De Lara had been from an excellent family, but he was no de Lohr.
John wondered just how much it would weaken Christopher de Lohr should he remove Peter from his father’s stable.
He fixed on Peter.
“I can see that you mean it,” he said after a moment. “We do not need to have bloodshed if we can make a bargain. Lower the dagger and let us speak like reasonable men.”
Peter hesitated a moment longer before putting the dagger back where it belonged. He didn’t dare glance at The Marshal, fearful that John might pick up on the fact that The Marshal was on Peter’s side. He’d already implicated himself in a deception, but he wanted to keep William perfectly safe and secure. However, he wanted to take it a step further.
He had to make it clear.
He looked at William fully in the face.
“My lord, my apologies for lying to you about the horse,” he said. “Had you known I’d come here to free Liora, you would have never let me see the king.”
The Marshal knew exactly what Peter was doing. Bless him, he thought. “You are forgiven,” he said, but he didn’t sound as if he meant it. “But now you must listen to what the king has to offer. If you do not, you will not leave here alive.”
Peter nodded, returning his attention to the king as his grip on Liora tightened. She was no longer weeping, but he could feel her trembling in his arms.
“I am listening, your grace,” he said.
John sat forward in his chair. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “I shall not become angry with you, but I want the truth.”
“I will not lie to you, your grace.”
“Did you really use the woman to gain information from her father? From me?”
Peter shook his head. “I swear upon my mother’s grave that I never did, at any time,” he said. “You said yourself that the jeweler’s daughter is beautiful. Would I really want to speak of politics when looking at her? Not hardly. We only spoke of each other, of our families, and of our religions. That is God’s truth.”
John nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Nay, I cannot imagine you would want to speak of men’s games when you are beholding her vision,” he said. “What’s all this nonsense about Agnes de Quincy? Were you betrothed to her and jilted her for the Jewess?”
Again, Peter shook his head. “She wishes I was betrothed to her, your grace,” he said. “That is where this whole madness has come from. She wants to marry me and I want nothing to do with her.”
“Ugly?”
“Inside, aye. She is not a good person.”
John pondered that, sitting back in his chair and scratching his head. “Then I am to assume you came here to free Haim’s daughter.”
“I did, your grace.”
“Just how did you intend to do that?”
“I am truthfully not sure, but I had to come.”
John thought about that. For several long moments, there was an apprehensive silence. Then, he turned to the men standing behind him and ordered them out. They filtered from the chamber, eyeing Peter threateningly, but he didn’t flinch. He watched them go as The Marshal went to the king, bending over and whispering something in his ear. John nodded, muttering something in return.
Meanwhile, Peter dared to loosen his grip on Liora. He cupped her face with both hands to get a good look at her.
“You are unharmed?” he whispered.
She nodded, struggling not to tear up again. “My father is still here, somewhere.”
Peter kissed her forehead. “I know,” he said. “I will worry about him after I’ve secured your release. Come, sweetheart – sit down before you fall down.”
He directed her into the nearest chair and she sat heavily, greatly shaken from the events of the day. He put his hand on her shoulder, both a possessive and comforting move. He stood next to her, watching The Marshal and the king mutter back and forth. Finally, The Marshal stepped away from John and Peter caught a glimpse of the man’s face.
He didn’t like what he saw.
“Peter,” John said. “I have a proposal for you. Will you listen?”
Concerned about the expression on The Marshal’s face, Peter nonetheless managed to nod. “I will, your grace.”
John folded his hands across his chest in what looked strangely like both a fatherly and thoughtful gesture. “For nine years, I enjoyed the company and counsel of Sean de Lara,” he said. “I am sure you know that. I am sure you also know that de Lara is no longer with me.”
“I know, your grace.”
“What you do not know is that I feel his absence deeply,” John said. “For so many years, I could look over my shoulder and there he would be, but no longer. I miss a great knight in a position of power at my side.”
Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He simply nodded, watching John as he stood up from the chair and stretched his weary body. “Peter, you mentioned something interesting to me when you spoke of my stallion,” he said. “You said that you must build your own empire because, as your father’s bastard, you shall inherit very little. You realize that your father’s own empire is built upon a lucrative marriage and my own brother’s generosity.”
“I know, your grace.”
“Then you understand there is nothing wrong with accepting titles or lands or positions from the king,” he said. “We have the power to give such things. I have the power to give you such things.”
Now, he had Peter’s attention, but not in a good way. He immediately wondered what he was going to have to do in order to gain that power and position.
“You are most generous to suggest that, your grace, but…”
John interrupted. “I have given your father a great deal recently,” he said. “Ludlow and Wigmore, to name two. The least he can do is give me his son for all I have done for him. Take de Lara’s place at my side, Peter. Become my personal protector.”
Peter nearly choked. He stared at John, trying desperately not to look too appalled, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. He ended up looking at The Marshal, seeing that same grim expression and realizing why the man had looked so displeased.
John wanted Peter to be his new Lord of the Shadows.
The words sank deep. Peter genuinely had no idea what to say other than to refuse him. But if he refused him, it was very possible Liora and Haim would never leave Westminster. He was well aware that this was coercion on the king’s part, so he was careful in his reply.
“You honor me, your grace,” he finally said. “Truly, what you are suggesting is a great honor. But I am sure you realize that my place is at my father’s side.”
“Do this for me and Mistress Liora and her father shall go free today,” John said in a master stroke. “Refuse me and… well, there is no knowing what may happen to them. To her. Do you understand my meaning?”
Peter was trapped. God help him, he knew he was trapped and there was no way to wriggle out of it. Liora’s freedom for his service to John.
He could hardly believe how badly he’d been played.
It was checkmate.
Sean de Lara had spent all those years at John’s side and now, William Marshal was picking up the mantle. But he couldn’t do it forever. He was an old man and he had more responsibilities than almost anyone in England. That meant, soon, he would have to back away, but someone had to be at John’s side, watching him and manipulating him, making sure the rebellion knew of the king’s every move.
Right now, knowing the king’s plans was more important than ever considering the mercenaries that were now roaming loose in England with the king’s permission. A man next to John would be invaluable to people like Peter’s father and the rest of the warlords.
Someone had to do it.
To secure Liora’s freedom, Peter realized he had to.
With a heavy sigh, he turned away from John and pulled Liora to her feet, leading her over to a corner of the chamber, as far away as he could get so he could speak to her with some privacy. He had a lot to say and little time to say it.
“Listen to me,” he said, putting his hands on her face and forcing her to look at him. “You heard what he said. I am telling you what I am going to do and I want you to be brave. Can you do that, Lee-Lee?”
He used her nickname, the one Asa used, and he watched warmth fill her frightened eyes. “I can,” she whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do and I shall do it.”
Peter smiled faintly at her, trying to show courage in a moment where he felt absolutely none. As he looked at her, his heart was breaking from the uncertainty they were both going to face.
“I am going to agree to the king’s terms and he will release you and your father,” he muttered. “That is all I care about right now. I will do everything in my power not to swear fealty to him and he probably knows it, so he will be sly. He knows that a knight, and most especially a de Lohr, will never go back on his word, so what I do now is for the immediate release of you and your father. What comes later… no matter what, I will send word to you or I will come and see you myself. You will go home to Milk Street and stay there until you hear from me. Will you do that?”
Liora looked up at him, putting her fingers across his lips and watching him kiss them. “I will,” she murmured. “That you would do this for me… Peter, I cannot find the words to describe how I feel. You are sacrificing everything.”
His eyes glimmered at her. “There is nothing I would not do for you,” he said. “Don’t you realize that by now?”
She mouthed the words Sweet Peter and he kissed her fingers again, knowing their time was too short for any more conversation. But he had one last thing to say to her.
“Remember that I love you,” he said. “I think I loved you from the first moment I met you. Come what may, we will marry. Neither a king nor a religion will keep us apart. But for now… keep the faith that I will return to you. This is not the end, not in the least.”
She nodded, though she was holding back tears. “My love goes with you,” she whispered. “I will be waiting for you, Peter. No matter how long it takes, no matter where you go. I will be right here, waiting for you. Always.”
He gave her a brief smile and dropped his hands from her face, leading her back over to where she had been sitting. It was heartbreaking in so many ways that Peter couldn’t even begin to grasp the pain. But he could feel it, all of it. As Liora resumed her seat, he summoned his courage and faced the king.
“Very well, your grace,” he said. “Release Liora and her father immediately and we shall speak on this position you wish me to assume.”
John smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “Excellent,” he said victoriously. Then, he looked to The Marshal. “You see? He is a reasonable man. The jeweler is in the vault, so remove him immediately and take him and his daughter to the gates. They are free to go. Peter and I have much to discuss.”
The Marshal nodded at the king’s directive. He couldn’t even look at Peter as he went to Liora and extended a hand to her. Hesitantly, she took it, and he led her out of the chamber, leaving Peter with John.
Listening to that chamber door shut behind him left Peter feeling as if he’d just entered the lion’s den… and he was the main course.
God help me.
