“I do not wish to be uninformed of anything the earl is up to,” he said after a moment. “Surely the man will not mind if I send out a scout to follow his scout.”
Eeric fought off a grin as he hissed at the nearest man, the tall and blond general who commanded the escort party. At home they called him Geist, or Ghost, because he was tall, pale and wispy. He was also Conrad’s cousin and privy to everything the prince was. After a few brief words, the blond general understood what was expected of him and slipped from the solar. Conrad and Eeric watched him as he exited the keep and headed for the stables.
So did David, sitting in the great hall. He just happened to be passing by a window that had a nice view of the northern half of the bailey which opened into the stable yard and saw clearly when one of the prince’s men slipped into the stables. Curiosity made David motion to Edward de Wolfe, who went to join him at the window.
David pointed to the entry to the stable yard. “I just saw one of Conrad’s men enter the stables,” he said casually. “What do you suppose that is all about?”
Cup in hand, de Wolfe watched the vacant scene outside for a few moments. Nothing moved as he stood there and watched, creating disinterest in David’s question. “Perhaps he was going to check on his horse,” he replied, about to turn away. “Come along; we’ve a fine game of chess going. Max Cornwallis is about to crush his opponent.”
The lure of Max crushing anyone was too good to pass up; the man was more brawn than brains and anytime he was winning was cause for celebration. Just as David turned from the window, Conrad’s knight thundered out of the stable yard and towards the front gate. This time, Edward caught the motion as well and his nonchalant attitude grew serious.
“Now, where in the hell would he be going?” he asked David.
David shook his head. “I suppose we could ask the prince.”
“If he wanted you to know, he would have told you.”
David cocked an eyebrow with a faint nod of the head. “Good point,” he said, then looked at Edward. “Perhaps he should be followed.”
“Indeed,” Edward looked around the room. “Where is Lawrence?”
David looked as well but neither one of them spied the white-haired knight in the smoky warmth of the great hall. “Perhaps he has retired already.”
“Perhaps. I’ll send someone to find him.”
“No time,” David said. “Conrad’s man will be long gone. You’d better go yourself.”
“Me?” Edward repeated. “You go, David. Your horse is faster than mine. And I’ve got this bad back that….”
David rolled his eyes and held up a hand; Edward wasn’t one to dirty his hands unless absolutely necessary. He was an excellent knight but it was well known that he preferred more gentlemanly pursuits and riding out into a snowy night was not among them.
“Very well,” he snapped softly. “I’ll go. But you’d better tell Chris what is going on. He’ll need to know if Conrad is planning something, shall we say, underhanded.”
Edward could only shake his head. “I’ve no idea what that would be. Unless he’s planning on doing something foolish.”
David set his cup down, glancing at the sky beyond the window. “If he is, I’ll be sure to find out.”
***
“I met up with him on the road,” Radcliffe said. “Just as I was entering de Braose lands, he came across my path.”
The solar of Ludlow was an enormous thing with a hearth that stretched halfway to the ceiling. Smoke curled out and hovered in the air just above their heads. Lewis sat at de Lacy’s iron table, inspecting the vellum that had recently been presented to him. He eyed the man who had presented it from across the table.
He was a big brute, which didn’t surprise him. And he had enormous hands. In fact, Lewis was rather intimidated by the French swordsman that the king had sent, as a courtesy, to complete Lady Elizabeau’s execution. The vellum, neatly written, had explained it all. But Lewis wasn’t a naturally trusting soul.
“And he is from the king?”
“That is what he tells me his missive says.”
Lewis’ gaze moved between Edward and Rhys. “Strange that Lady Elizabeau’s death warrant did not mention sending a French swordsman.”
“Not strange considering this kindness is allowed mostly to royalty,” Edward replied. “This is a special honor. Moreover, he says he just came from France. Rouen, to be exact.”
Lewis lifted his eyebrows. “Rouen?” he repeated with awe. “Isn’t that where Arthur was…?”