CHAPTER FOUR
“…The defining moment came as swiftly as a thief in the night. Before I realized the time had come to pass, the cost was already higher than I’d ever dared to dream…”
The Chronicles of Sir Sean de Lara
1206 – 1215 A.D.
“Where have youbeen, de Lara?” the king was still in bed, his latest conquest cowering beside him with the filthy bedcovers pulled to her neck. “I called for you earlier and was told you were not to be found.”
The room was dark and smelled like painful sex. Sean had long since gotten over the shock of seeing a terrified, naked woman in the king’s bed. He had learned to ignore it.
“Even I must eat, sire,” he said steadily. “My apologies for not being available when you called. You know that is not the norm.”
John threw off the covers, his skinny, naked body for the world to see. He made no move to cover his nudity or conceal the virginal blood on his large, flaccid member. Again, Sean saw none of this; he made a habit of always looking the king in the eye, for a variety of reasons.
“Summon my chamberlain,” he said to Sean, who moved to do his bidding even before the command left the king’s mouth. “Today is a great day. Do you know why?”
Sean eyed the small, wiry Master of the Chamber as the man scampered into the king’s bower. He oft felt pity for the man, having been abused by the fickle monarch for the majority of his adult life. Even though Sean knew the answer to the questions, itwas never a good idea to let on that he was indeed aware. It took the joy away from John of being able to tell him again. And to upset the king was not on his agenda at this moment.
“Pray tell, sire.”
John’s black eyes flashed. “Today is the day of the battle of Tours, whereupon my father died.”
“A glorious day, sire.”
The king threw up his arms as the chamberlain put his large, coarse linen shift over his head. “Tonight will be a feast like none other. And that is why I summoned you earlier.”
“What is your wish, sire?”
D’Athée joined them at that point. Sean swore the man looked more grizzled and uncivilized by the day. He held a tray with food for the king; as was usual, one of John’s Protectors retrieved the food from the kitchen and picked one person at random to taste the meal. This discouraged poisoning the food. Over the years, Sean had been confronted with more than one person who refused to touch the food. Such refusal always led to death. But it had discouraged many from tainting the king’s meals.
Gerard set the tray down, eyeing the woman in the bed as the king dressed. It wasn’t unusual for the unkempt knight to help himself to the king’s leavings and by his expression, his thoughts on the woman were clear. But Sean maintained his focus on the king; never would he imagine himself stooping to d’Athée’s actions though he had made it a strict policy never to comment on the other’s behavior. Such opinions could be contentious, and in his position, he could not afford conflict with someone he often had to trust his life to. He had to let it be.
“I feel a trip to the Avenue of the Jewelers is in order,” John said as he examined the multitude of colored tunics presented to him by the chamberlain. “I would gift myself with something befitting today’s celebration.”
“As you say, sire. When would you like to leave?”
“As soon as I am finished with my meal. See to it, de Lara.”
“It shall be done.”
“And another thing,” John stopped him before he could leave. “The other night, in the hall, I saw a woman who has whet my interest.”
“A name or a description, sire?”
John stood still as his chamberlain, now assisted by the Master of the Wardrobe, fit him with a heavy red tunic. “I cannot give you a name, but she was very young, seated with Jocelin, Bishop of Bath and Glastonbury.”
Sean felt a wave of apprehension sweep him. “Those were the daughters of Henry St. James. Which one do you refer to?”
“There were two? I only saw one. The redhead.”
An avalanche of relief descended upon him, followed instantly by a fire of guilt. The king must have seen the girl seated there when her sister wasn’t present, for surely had he seen Sheridan, his request would have been much different. He shouldn’t have been glad that the king’s attention was diverted to the other sister, but he was. Now he faced a peculiar dilemma. He did something at that moment that he had never done before, at least not with the king. He bargained.
“Sire, if I may make a suggestion,” he said.
John let his arms down as his servants finished securing the golden, lion-themed sash at his waist. “What is it?”
“Forgive my impertinence, but I would offer food for thought in this matter. It may not be a good idea for you to bestow your attention upon the St. James girl at this time.”