The Loyal Heart Part 31

Buxton gaped. "No, my liege, but we worked all this out already. Look, it's already on the parchment. You can't go back now!"

"Are you suggesting, Alfred, that a prince cannot change his mind? That he should bow to the demands of his va.s.sals?" Buxton sputtered. Prince John rose from his chair and towered over the table. "Perhaps it is not Sir Crispin's loyalty that should be questioned."

Crispin swallowed hard. His hands shook and his head swam. He closed his hand around his sword. He could feel the rage radiating off of Buxton even if he couldn't see his master's face.

"My liege." Buxton stood on uncertain legs and bowed to his knees. "You know I am your most loyal subject. I have sought for years to help you gain the throne. I have raised half of the money due for this payment, recruited an a.s.sa.s.sin from within the royal household at great risk to myself." He backed up as he spoke. Crispin could now see his pale, panicked face.

"One wonders how you came to know such an a.s.sa.s.sin, Alfred," the prince challenged him.

Buxton smacked dry lips and raised his eyes to the prince. "He ... he came highly recommended, my liege."

There was a moment of thick silence in the room. Prince John glared at Buxton, who was making a great show of bowing his head in deference. He was making a grave mistake by not meeting the prince's eyes.

"I will make a deal with you, Pennington." Prince John ignored Buxton and turned back to the table. Pennington bowed his head. "I will give you ten thousand pounds and I will give it to you now. I will provide you with a personal bodyguard for as long as you like. I will guarantee your immunity in any land held by the English crown. If you accomplish my brother's demise upon his return to England, I will give you twenty thousand more and an escort to anywhere you want to go to live out the rest of your life in regal splendor."

Pennington smiled. "But not the woman."

"Not that one, no. She's already taken."

Another tense silence filled the room. Pennington nodded in agreement. A huge weight lifted off of Crispin's shoulders. He fought not to show it beyond the involuntary breath that escaped from sheer relief. Buxton strangled a groan.

Prince John straightened and looked at each man in the room in turn. When he had met each of their eyes he softened into a smile and relaxed. "Well now, that's done. I believe we have some entertainment to engage in."

Pennington stood and met Prince John with as humble a bow as Crispin thought he was capable of. They walked towards the door together.

Buxton turned on Crispin as Pennington and the prince pa.s.sed through the doorway and into the hall. He drew a foot-long dagger from a concealed scabbard against his side. Crispin caught the move and jumped back fast enough so that when Buxton thrust at him he was out of reach. Seeing that he had missed his target Buxton rushed forward, dagger thrusting at Crispin's heart. Crispin backpedaled, reaching for his sword but unable to draw it in time. Buxton chased him up against the wall and had the dagger ready to thrust into his stomach when the prince strode back into the room and shouted, "Alfred!" Both Buxton and Crispin froze, eyes locked. "Stop dawdling."

Buxton concealed the knife in the folds of his cloak before the prince could see it. A grin spread across his thin lips and sunken eyes. "You are dead, Huntingdon," he seethed, black hatred in his eyes. "You and your precious Aubrey and your boy Jack will all be dead before the sun sets today."

"Sir Crispin, you too," Prince John called again.

"Coming, my liege." Buxton turned and smiled, holding his hands wide to show that there was nothing in them. He strolled to the prince's side, straightening his tunic with a sniff. Crispin dropped his arms and glanced at his tunic. A slice went through to his s.h.i.+rt and drew a faint red line along his abdomen. He heaved a long, shuddering breath before forcing himself to recover and join the others.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

The Great Hall was swarming with preparations for the chess match when they arrived. Pennington disappeared into the colorful throng of n.o.bles. Buxton sent Crispin one last glare before charging up to the gallery. He waved his guards to him and whispered wild instructions, sending Crispin another glare coupled with a toothy grin that made his blood run cold. Two of the guards nodded and rushed off.

"Go find your lady." Prince John rested a hand on Crispin's shoulder. His eyes dropped to the clean cut in his tunic. The hand weighed heavily on his shoulder. Then the prince patted him again and sent him off with a nod.

All he wanted was Aubrey. Everything within him was desperate for her. He had to find her and the sooner the better. There was no going back now.

She was busy to the side of the room, handing out white tabards with black chess pieces painted on them. Jack was by her side. At least something was right. When he reached them they both looked at him as if seeing a ghost. Aubrey dropped the tabards and clasped both hands on either side of his face.

"You're pale as a sheet," her voice quavered. His eyes flickered to the hole in his tunic without a word. She saw it and hardened into cold steel. "What happened?"

He didn't answer. With her touch some of his life was coming back. He bent over and picked up the dropped tabards, taking out one marked with a knight and throwing it over his head, hands shaking.

"There is no going back now." Jack stepped forward to close their small circle, a look of understanding in his eyes. Crispin a.s.sumed Aubrey had told him of the pseudo plan and he was more grateful for it than he thought he would be. "He's promised the three of us will be dead by the end of the day."

Aubrey nodded, turning pale herself. Jack clasped his friend's forearm in a show of solidarity. Aubrey darted off to a carved chest against the wall and returned with a long wooden practice sword. She handed it to Crispin, showing him without words how a tiny latch on the handle turned to free the sharp steel sword from its wooden casing. "I have one too," she told him. She nodded down to her boots and Crispin saw the glimmer of his wolf-headed dagger concealed there. He noticed with a sudden flicker of a smile that she wore the outfit she had once worn as the Bandit with a white queen's tabard over top.

Crispin glanced to Jack. "I got two, mate." He drew two swords from his belt. They also appeared to be wooden.

"Two?" Crispin found strength in his voice for the first time all day.

"Yeah." A rogue's grin touched Jack's face as he swung the swords in quick circles in front of them, blades intertwining in a wicked dance. "I've learned a few tricks, thought I might show 'em off."

A blast of trumpets called them to the game. A buzz went up from the a.s.sembly as the servants began ushering the n.o.bles up to the gallery or to a platform that had been raised at the far end of the room. It cleared the painted chess board in the center of the room. The prince, who had been laughing with one of the parties of n.o.bles, started towards them.

"Jack, I want you to protect the prince at all costs. All costs. Whatever happens you stick by him and do not let him leave your sight," Crispin ordered, eyes dark and serious.

"Right." Jack grinned in antic.i.p.ation.

"Thank you, Lady Huntingdon." The prince bowed to Aubrey as she handed him his king's tabard. "And thank you, Sir Crispin." He flicked his eyes to Jack to show that he had heard the order.

"No, my liege," Crispin bowed, "thank you."

Aubrey glanced from one man to the other, miserable with worry over all that those words could imply, over Crispin's announcement that there was no going back. "Are we all ready?"

"This should be interesting." The prince smiled at her, taking her gloved hand and kissing it.

They set to work on last minute preparations, Aubrey making sure all of the men on her team were armed, had their tabards, and knew their places. The n.o.bles who she had let into the game preened and showed-off for each other as she cursed their stupidity. Crispin and Jack scanned the room, a.s.sessing the s.p.a.ce, the n.o.ble spectators, the opposing team, looking for exits, weaknesses, traps. Aubrey studied the men on Pennington's side of the board. Most were n.o.bles decked out in their finest, but one or two had their faces concealed under long hoods. They must be the ringers.

Jack saw what she was thinking and turned to study the men. His eager expression tightened. "Ethan," he seethed in a low voice.

"Where?" Crispin scanned the room through narrowed eyes as Aubrey swallowed.

"Black queen," Jack told him, pretending that he hadn't noticed. The men on both sides were coming out to take their places on the board as the trumpeters sounded another fanfare.

Crispin sent a questioning glance to Aubrey. She wasn't surprised. Ethan had spent the last seven months tying her in knots. Why should he stop now. Crispin took her hand and squeezed it, kissed her forehead, then handed her over to the prince.

The crowd of n.o.bles applauded as Aubrey and the prince walked to the center of the board and bowed before heading to their places. She stood with only the castle's master-at-arms, York, in a bishop's tabard, standing between her and Crispin. He glanced from the Prince to Harrow, one of the few guards they knew they could trust, in the other bishop's tabard to Jack. The two men's eyes met and they nodded.

The trumpet fanfare stopped and Buxton appeared in the gallery above the board. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "We are here today to witness a symbolic gesture of peace! For this very morning Arthur Pennington, emissary of King Richard, and our own Prince John have taken the first steps to begin the process of reconciliation between brothers which will bring stability to Derbys.h.i.+re and England!" A cry of delight swelled from the crowd. The prince and Pennington waved to the a.s.sembly and accepted the praise that was offered. "And so as a symbol of the end of conflict, Pennington has challenged our own Lady Huntingdon," he growled out her name, "to a human chess match." As the crowd cheered Aubrey tried to smile and wave. She glanced to Crispin for support.

"The rules of the game are simple. The pieces move like any other chess game. When one piece is in a position to take another, the two men, or woman in the case of Lady Huntingdon," Buxton said her name as if it were something sour, "will engage in combat. No, not real combat. Pity about that. There's a few people down there I wouldn't mind seeing bloodied." The n.o.bles laughed at Buxton's apparent joke. "No, they battle with imitation weapons, if you will. Combat will continue until one side yields. And if there are any disputes, well, as host of this game I will be the judge." As he announced this Buxton sent a murderous glance to Crispin. Crispin met Buxton's threat with eyes of fire. "Pennington has graciously given Lady Huntingdon the white tabards and the first move. Let the game begin!"

The trumpeters played a long, elaborate fanfare as the crowd applauded and everyone took their final places. Aubrey stood in her square, heart pounding, gathering all of her resolve. She would win this match. But more importantly, she would find a way to create enough chaos so that Crispin could go after Buxton. She looked to the prince on her left and tried to be rea.s.sured by his smile. Then she took a deep breath and announced, "Queen's p.a.w.n forward two!"

The crowd applauded the first move of the game and the chunky n.o.bleman who had spent a solid hour the day before begging to be on her team stepped forward two squares.

Pennington grinned across the board at Aubrey, his eyes shadowed. He countered with "Queen's p.a.w.n forward two."

One of his men, a n.o.ble with curling black feathers in his cap, rushed to face her p.a.w.n. The two men made a show of staring each other down until they both laughed.

Aubrey couldn't laugh. She needed to attack. "Queen's knight to King's row, third square." She sent Crispin an stoic glance as he walked through the two p.a.w.ns in front of him and took his new place with a glance over his shoulder to her. The crowd murmured and a few shouted to the black p.a.w.n that he had better watch out.

"Queen's bishop's p.a.w.n forward one." Pennington protected the p.a.w.n he already had in play with another. The queen's p.a.w.n made a show of being relieved, playing to the crowd.

In her mind Aubrey was trying to map two games; the chess match in front of her and her own plan to position Crispin and Jack where she needed them. "King's knight to Queen's row, third square." Jack nudged his way through the p.a.w.ns in front of him to a spot mirroring Crispin. The two men glanced at each other, tense. The crowd was disappointed by the move. They thought they were going to see a battle at last.

"King's p.a.w.n forward two." Pennington shrugged and smiled to the crowd, putting the cloaked p.a.w.n in danger of an attack from Jack's knight to feed the crowd's desire for action.

Aubrey hesitated. She glanced to Jack. He looked back at her with a ready nod. It was as good a time as any to start the action. "King's knight to take the black p.a.w.n."

Jack stepped forward and the p.a.w.n in question stood his ground as from above Buxton called out, "Clear the board!" and the trumpeters played a fanfare. Crispin headed straight to Aubrey's side.

As soon as the board cleared Jack drew his twin swords. He itched to move, to use his muscles and hear steel on steel. Or at least wood on ... he wasn't sure what the p.a.w.n in front of him used as a weapon. He wasn't sure who the p.a.w.n opposite him was. The man was tall and thin but his face was covered by a hood. He glanced up as he took a peace-bonded axe from his belt. Gray eyes met brown and Jack's heart pound to this throat.

"Tom!" He dropped his swords to his sides. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

"Fighting you," his brother snapped.

Jack raised his weapons again as the two circled each other at the center of the board. "Oy, mate, you don't want to do this. This isn't a game."

"I know." Tom's eyes burned with anger. "And you're gonna lose." He lunged forward and tried to hit Jack across the face with the handle of the axe.

Jack dodged. Tom's blow landed on his shoulder, stinging. He spun around and whacked his brother across the side with the flat end of his right-hand sword then followed it with a jabbing blow to the gut with his left. Tom hadn't seen the second blow coming and doubled over, fighting to keep his balance and not sink to his knees. "Just concede now and get off the board. Get out of the castle, out of the city, where you'll be safe," Jack pleaded, leaning over his brother.

Tom didn't listen. He brought his axe up hard, connecting with Jack's face and sending him staggering backwards. Jack bit his tongue, and when he spit out blood the n.o.bles shouted with delight. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes flaring as he stared Tom down. The only way to keep his brother out of danger was to take him out. "Don't make me do this, Tom."

"You did it to yourself, Jack," Tom mocked him.

Jack dropped into crouch. As soon as Tom came at him again he jumped into action. He spun his right-hand sword in his hand, chopping a blow across Tom's shoulder with a loud crack, then slashed with the left-hand sword, thumping it into Tom's side. Had they been real swords Tom would have been dead before he could blink, but covered with wood the second blow only knocked him off balance. He swung around and brought the right-hand sword cras.h.i.+ng against Tom's back in another move that would have killed him had the sword been real, knocking him over.

When it looked like Tom would struggle to get to his feet he had no choice but to kick him in the ribs, which brought a loud "Oooh!" from the crowd. The blow flung Tom to his back and Jack lunged to him and brought both swords down, crossing them on either side of his brother's neck. Had the blades been exposed he could have cut Tom's head off with one motion.

"Yield," Jack warned him.

"To you?" Tom snarled up at him.

Jack's expression softened into deep regret. "This isn't about us, mate. People are gonna die here today. Please don't be one of them."

Tom blinked at his brother. It was the look one stranger had for another. All the years they had had only each other to rely on vanished. Jack closed his eyes on the pain. He had never felt more alone.

"I yield!" The sharp cry from Tom snapped his eyes open.

The crowd erupted into cheers and boos. Jack stood, releasing the swords from Tom's neck. As Tom crawled off the board he shot him a look that told him nothing was over. The yield was only temporary.

"Resume the board!" Buxton called from the gallery and the trumpeters played again. Jack took his new place. As long as Tom kept out of this dangerous madness nothing else mattered.

"Well played," Pennington congratulated the panting Jack. Then he went on. "Queen to Rook's row, fourth square."

Aubrey held her breath as Ethan strode across the board to a spot threatening Crispin. Ethan stared at his nemesis, not caring if anyone figured out who he was. Crispin met his eyes with hatred that went far beyond the games of that day. The tension between them made the hair on the back of Aubrey's neck stand up. No one else in the room had questioned Tom's presence on the board as the black p.a.w.n. No one else would know who he was. But if Tom was there and Ethan was positioned for a fight, the others wouldn't be far behind.

Aubrey scanned the crowd, buying herself time as she looked for Toby, possibly even Geoffrey, while deciding whether to keep Crispin in line for Ethan's attack or move him to safety. She glanced up to the gallery, to Buxton, to see if he suspected what was going on below.

Her eyes widened and her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Geoffrey, disheveled and distraught, standing beside Buxton. The guards crowded near him spelled out that he was not there as a guest. He stared at her with wide, warning eyes, shaking his head. Buxton saw her notice his little prize at last and thumped Geoffrey on the back hard enough to push him against the railing high above the floor. It was enough of a drop from the gallery to the floor to hurt a man, maybe worse. Aubrey swallowed and glanced to Crispin. He saw everything that she saw and suspected more. They needed to move and they needed to move now.

She did the only thing she could think to do. "Queen forward two!" she shouted and charged across two s.p.a.ces to stand at Crispin's side. "Geoffrey," she glanced to the gallery.

"I know." Crispin put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to rea.s.sure her.

"We have to save him. I don't trust Buxton not to-"

"Neither do I, but we have another problem." He nodded over his shoulder to Ethan lurking behind him. The board was already beginning to clear and Ethan was stalking his prey. The move had been declared when they weren't listening and the trumpet fanfare was sounding.

Confidence clicked in Aubrey's mind. She saw what needed to be done. "Lose to Ethan," she entreated him. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Lose to him and leave the board. Try to get up to Geoffrey."

Crispin understood and nodded. As Aubrey left the board he squeezed her hand. Then he turned to face Ethan across the black and white painted squares on the floor. The crowd buzzed. Crispin drew his sword and waited.

Ethan wasn't about to let the showdown go unnoticed. When it was just him and Crispin on the board he threw back his hood and tossed his cloak aside. Surprise echoed through the room, the frenzy of the observing n.o.bles heightened. Crispin didn't flinch. He held his sword at ready, eager to get this over with.

"Well, well, well, doesn't this look familiar!" Buxton laughed from the gallery above. His laughter was on the edge of madness. "I'm sorry, but didn't we already have this particular exhibition the other day?"

"We never finished it," Ethan shouted, his eyes never leaving Crispin's.

"Let's finish it now then."

Crispin was determined to make a good show. With a cry he rushed forward bringing his sword down from left to right. Ethan was more ready than he seemed and parried the blow, spinning to smack his padded sword across Crispin's back. He stumbled forward, back stinging from the blow, padded or not, and jumped to face him again. Crispin had no doubt that the sword Ethan held was as much a practice sword as the one he himself wielded and that it would take just as little time to reveal it's sting. He lunged at Ethan and his blow was parried again. Ethan moved quickly, bringing his sword around and aiming for Crispin's head. He blocked the blow and smashed his fist into Ethan's face. The blow sent Ethan stumbling, but when he came forward again he was angrier than ever.

Ethan swung hard, Crispin defended, and came about to attack from the other side. Crispin deflected the blow and stabbed at Ethan's center. Ethan jumped out of the way and hit his sword aside. As the momentum carried him past Ethan jabbed an elbow hard into his kidney. The blow knocked Crispin to the floor. He let out a painful breath, turning but taking his time to get up. He wanted Ethan to attack him, to kick or hit him in such a way that he could make the blow look worse than it was. Ethan just stood there pacing.

"Get up, Huntingdon! I'm not finished with you yet!"

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment Crispin got to his feet. He snarled at Ethan and charged him again.

They met in the center of the board, wood clattering against wood as first Ethan, then Crispin attacked, took the advantage, pounded blow after bruising blow, then defended, swung around, and defended again. So much depended on Crispin making Ethan's blows look worse than they were, but so much inside of him wanted to flatten Ethan to a pulp.

He attacked with his full strength, hitting Ethan across the back with enough force to splinter the end of the sheath hiding the steel of his blade. Ethan staggered but he didn't go after him. He stared at the end of his sword, metal glinting through. He had to lose and he had to lose now. Ethan came at him, striking hard from the right. He only half defended himself and when the blow made contact it knocked him to his knees. Seeing only weakness, Ethan brought the b.u.t.t of his sword down hard on the back of Crispin's head.

For a moment everything went dark. Crispin didn't feel himself drop to the floor. There was a strange rus.h.i.+ng sound in his ears.

When the world came back into focus he was staring at the ceiling. The noise was that of the crowd roaring. He lay there and blinked a few times, pinp.r.i.c.ks of light dancing in his vision. Moments later Aubrey's face s.h.i.+ft into focus above his, terrified beyond anything he'd seen. "I'm alright," he mumbled.

"You're bleeding."

He shook his head. It didn't matter. Things were coming clearer and he felt more like he could move again. "Get someone to help me off the board. Make Buxton think I'm done for."

Aubrey nodded, heart racing. She had been kneeling over Crispin's p.r.o.ne body and now she stood. "Somebody help!"