Smiles In The Shadows
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“I’m not sure I understand,” said the Duke. “What is this ‘discovery’ you speak of?” He was seated in his private study, a room that had been set aside for him by Queen Isabella and her husband King John to serve as their own personal quarters at court.
It wasn’t much more than an office with some comfortable chairs placed around it, but he’d already decided that if there were ever any serious discussions taking place here they would be conducted out on one of the balconies overlooking the courtyard below so everyone could hear what was being discussed without having to strain too hard or shout over each other’s voices.
There weren’t many people who didn’t know about these rooms yet – most knew where the queen kept them hidden from view behind a false wall paneled in oak panels painted white, which gave off just enough light when opened up to make anyone looking inside think nothing special lay beyond its surface – but those few still ignorant of their existence wouldn’t find themselves able to hide anything important within them even if they tried.
All walls and floorboards throughout the palace were made entirely of wood planks nailed together using iron nails driven into wooden pegs hammered deep down through the heartwood of the tree trunk itself. Any secret message concealed beneath such surfaces would have no hope whatsoever of staying undetected once someone started pulling apart pieces of furniture trying to get at whatever secrets might lie underneath.
And since every piece of furniture in the royal apartments came equipped with a small compartment built into its underside specifically designed for hiding things like messages, coins, jewels, or documents, there really wasn’t anywhere else in the entire castle where anyone could conceivably conceal something without getting caught red-handed doing so.
Not unless they wanted to try burying a chest full of gold bars somewhere outside the city limits…
The Duke looked across at the man sitting opposite him. His name was Richard de Clare, Lord Deputy of Ireland and Earl of Pembroke. A tall fellow with dark hair and eyes and a strong jawline, he wore a black velvet doublet decorated with silver embroidery along the edges of the sleeves and collar, while his surcoat bore the arms of both himself and his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine.
An impressive figure indeed, dressed in fine clothes fit for royalty rather than merely nobility, although the fact that neither of them actually held any real power meant very little to either of them personally.
They were simply two men who enjoyed playing politics and seeing how far they could push others before they pushed back against them instead. If only because it allowed them to live life on their terms without having to worry about upsetting anyone whose support they needed to maintain their positions of authority.
This was why they’d come to spend time together now, discussing matters of state and strategy between themselves whenever possible. Because unlike most of the nobles and knights present at Court, they understood perfectly well that the best way to win battles was not necessary to fight them yourself but to ensure your enemies fought each other first.
Or, failing that, to arrange for the right person to do exactly that on your behalf.
Richard smiled thinly. “You’ll see soon enough.”
“And what makes you say that?” asked the Duke.
He shrugged. “Because we’re going to go and visit a certain man tomorrow morning…”
***
A short distance away, another group of men sat talking quietly amongst themselves. This particular gathering consisted of four members of the Order of Saint George, three of whom were also Knights Hospitallers, including Sir William FitzAlan, Baron of Dunbar, and Warden of Scotland.
Their leader was none other than Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who stood leaning casually against the stone balustrade surrounding one side of the balcony where he’d chosen to sit. Although it hadn’t always been thus.
When he’d arrived at the Palace of Westminster earlier today, he’d found himself surrounded by several dozen armed guardsmen, all of whom were standing guard over him wherever he went. But after spending half an hour explaining to them precisely why they shouldn’t feel obliged to protect him from harm, they’d finally agreed to let him walk freely among them without fearing for their lives. So long as he remained unarmed and stayed close to them at all times.
Since then, however, he’d spent most of his time alone, keeping to himself and avoiding contact with anyone except those closest to him. Including the four knights accompanying him here. All of whom were wearing plain grey tunics bearing the insignia of the Order of St George, with matching cloaks hanging loosely from their shoulders.
As far as anyone else could tell, they appeared to be ordinary commoners enjoying a pleasant afternoon stroll through the gardens of the palace. While in reality, they were part of a carefully planned plot to assassinate Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury.
Henry nodded slowly as he listened to the conversation unfolding beside him. “So what did you decide upon? The names of our targets?”
Sir Hugh shook his head. He was a large man in his mid-thirties, with curly brown hair tied back tightly under a simple cloth cap. Unlike the rest of them, he had no obvious scars to speak of, nor any visible sign of injury inflicted during battle.
Yet despite this, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that suggested he possessed more courage than almost anyone else around him combined. It was hard to imagine him ever being afraid of anything. Even if he knew he was likely to die within minutes of making the attempt.
“We decided to leave it until tomorrow,” said Sir John Grey. “There’s still plenty of time to make up our minds.”
William grinned slightly. “I’m sure we can think of some suitable candidates.”
Grey frowned. “What are you suggesting, Will?”
Will glanced down at his own hands. “Well, I’ve already got my eye on one of the archbishops. In fact, I thought we should start off by killing the wrong one. Just so everyone knows there is someone out to get him.”
In response, Grey laughed shortly. “That might just work. What about the other two?”
“Oh, easy enough,” replied William cheerfully. “One of them has a nice fat neck. And the other… Well, the other one looks like he needs a good hiding. You know—the kind of thing you give naughty children when they don’t behave properly. That sort of thing.”
For once, the other three men didn’t seem amused. Instead, they exchanged glances, frowning in concentration. Then, abruptly, Sir Hugh spoke again.
“How much longer will you need us to wait?”
“Not long,” answered William. “It won’t take me too many words to explain things to them. Really, it wouldn’t even have taken you guys that long. Only you wanted to talk about everything beforehand. Whereas I prefer to keep such discussions brief and decisive. To put the fear of God into people, you understand.”
The other three looked at him uncertainly.
“Look, gentlemen,” he continued, smiling pleasantly, “you’ve all seen how well I do my job. Why not trust your friend here and come along with me now? We can discuss matters afterward, if necessary.
If we find ourselves having difficulty deciding which of these fine fellows would best suit our purposes, perhaps you could help us choose between them. After all, you must have met each of them quite recently, yes?”
They stared at him blankly.
“All right,” he added hastily. “Perhaps you haven’t actually met them yet. Perhaps you’ll want to see them before you commit yourself.” He smiled again, but this smile held less warmth. “But really, gentlemen, it doesn’t matter whether or not you accompany me.
There’s nothing stopping you from doing whatever you wish while I’m gone. Except, of course, dying horribly.”
He turned toward the door leading inside; one of his companions hurried forward to open it for him. At the same moment, a voice called sharply across to him from behind: “You! Stop!”
Turning quickly, William saw a tall, thin figure hurrying toward him. One hand clutched a sword hilt protruding from beneath her cloak. She wore a hooded robe, pulled low over her face, leaving only the eyes visible above the rim of its cowl. A woman.
A priestess of the Temple of Solomon, then. No wonder she recognized him.
She stopped short, staring at William with wide blue eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly for a few moments, forming words he couldn’t hear. Finally, though, comprehension dawned in those pale orbs.
Her mouth opened very slightly, revealing teeth stained red with blood. “My lord,” she breathed.
Then, without another word, she whirled and ran through the doorway after the others.
***
THEY WERE IN THE CHAMBER OF LIES AND DECEPTION, EACH WITH HIS OWN MIND TO BLEND INTO OTHERS’S. WILLIAM WAS HAPPILY AWARE THAT HE COULD DO THIS WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT. BUT NOW, AS THEY SAT AT THEIR TABLE, TALKED OVER their plans for the evening, he found himself distracted by an odd sense of unease. Something wasn’t quite right. But what?
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sharp noise outside the chamber entrance. Startled, he jumped to his feet, turning to look. His heart sank immediately, for standing in the corridor beyond was none other than Captain Richardson.
“Captain,” he greeted him politely. “May I ask why you’re interrupting us?”
Richardson ignored this question, instead regarding him coldly. The man had been drinking heavily during supper, and his cheeks glowed pink under the stubble of his beard.
“Your friends sent me to fetch you back,” he informed William. “Apparently, they’d rather be alone tonight.”
William gave him a bland stare. “And who told you that?”
“No one,” snapped Richardson. “Just common sense. They don’t want anyone else around. So I came looking for you myself.”
“Ah,” said William. “Well, as it happens—”
“Don’t bother trying any excuses on me,” Richardson cut him off brusquely. “We both know perfectly well that you’ve got something going with them. It’s obvious.”
Will nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so.”
“So get out of there and let them enjoy themselves.”
“Of course,” agreed Will. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Half past ten.”
“That gives us plenty of time to return to the inn and change clothes. You should go ahead and leave. Tell them I’ll join them shortly.”
“Very good, sir.” With a nod, the captain turned away and strode down the hall.
As soon as he was gone, however, William felt better. Whatever strange feeling he’d experienced earlier seemed to have vanished completely. Now he relaxed entirely, sitting back against the wall next to Sir Richard.
“Now,” he murmured conversationally, “what shall we drink first? Wine, perhaps? Or brandy? How about some ale?”
Sir Richard chuckled softly beside him. “Ale sounds like just the thing. And maybe a little food too. What did you say they served here?”
“Pork chops, roast beef, mutton stew—all sorts of things. Oh, and bread pudding. Very nice.”
“Sounds delightful. Let’s order up a feast.”
In fact, when the meal arrived later that night (and it certainly tasted delicious), William discovered he hadn’t exaggerated. Everything was excellent, especially the pork chop, which he devoured ravenously. Afterward, he settled back into his chair with a sigh of satisfaction, leaning his head back until it rested comfortably on the high backrest.
The room itself was large enough for twenty people, but now it was empty except for the two of them. It was lit by candles set upon stands along the walls, giving everything a warm glow. Soft music played quietly from hidden speakers somewhere within the ceiling.
It was all very pleasant, and William decided he could easily spend many hours enjoying such surroundings. He glanced across the table at Sir Richard, smiling faintly.
“You seem to be having fun,” he observed.
Richard shrugged. “Oh, yes. This place has charm. Reminds me of my days in London before…” He paused, frowning thoughtfully. Then, shaking his head, he continued: “But no matter. We can talk while we eat if you wish.”
He took a sip of wine, watching William closely. When the younger man didn’t respond immediately, he added casually: “Or not.”
William smiled thinly. “Not really much point in talking, is there? Not unless you intend to tell me how you managed to escape your own execution.”
This made Sir Richard laugh aloud. “Ha! Good one!”
“Why do you think I’m laughing?” asked William dryly.
“Because you realize that I haven’t escaped anything yet.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” admitted William. “However, I am beginning to wonder whether you will ever manage to make good on your promise.”
“I never promised you I would,” replied Sir Richard calmly. “All I said was that I might try.”
“Then what makes you think you’ll succeed?”
“My dear fellow,” responded Sir Richard pleasantly, “you mustn’t take yourself so seriously. If you did, you wouldn’t last long.”
“True enough,” acknowledged William. “Still, though…if you fail, then where does that leave me?”
For an instant, Sir Richard looked genuinely surprised. Then, after a moment, he shook his head. “Wherever I happen to end up,” he answered simply. “If I die, or if I live, it doesn’t matter. In either case, I won’t see you again.”
William stared at him silently for several seconds. Finally, he sighed. “Maybe you’re right,” he conceded reluctantly. “After all, you were always more clever than I was. But even so, it seems odd that you should choose to risk your life over mine.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” countered Sir Richard mildly. “Do you honestly believe I care about you personally? That I feel sorry for you because you lost your parents? Because you had to flee England? No, of course not. All those things happened years ago. Why should they concern me now?”
“They don’t,” agreed William flatly. “Which means this whole business is pointless.”
“On the contrary,” insisted Sir Richard firmly. “Nothing matters to me anymore except getting revenge on the person who killed my wife. Once I’ve done that, nothing else will matter.”
There was silence between them for a few moments longer; then, finally, William nodded slightly. “So be it,” he muttered. “We both know our positions. There’s no sense wasting any further time arguing about it.”
“Good,” declared Sir Richard cheerily. “Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight.”
***
The following morning dawned bright and clear. The sun shone brightly through the windows, warming the stone walls of the castle. Outside, birds sang sweetly as they flitted among the trees. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves overhead, sending their shadows dancing across the floor.
As usual, William woke early, feeling refreshed and alert despite the late hour. His muscles felt loose and relaxed, ready for whatever challenges awaited him today. As far as he was concerned, there couldn’t have been better conditions under which to begin another day.
Sitting up slowly, he stretched out his arms above his head and yawned widely. Then, pulling himself upright, he swung his legs off the bed. For a moment, he considered going down to breakfast but then changed his mind. Instead, he went directly to the door leading to the hall outside. Opening it carefully, he peered cautiously around the corner.
To his relief, he saw that the corridor beyond was deserted. So, instead of taking the stairs, he walked quickly toward the main entrance. From there, it wasn’t difficult to find his way downstairs—or at least, not once he realized that most of the doors led nowhere.
At first glance, everything seemed normal. People bustled past with plates full of food, carrying cups of tea or coffee. Children ran excitedly from room to room, chasing each other. Some people sat quietly by themselves, reading books. Others played cards together, laughing loudly when they caught someone cheating. It was almost like being back home in Yorkshire, although here everyone spoke French rather than English.
The End