Sean lifted a hand in the general direction of the chapel. “One of the priests found me. Gilby sewed my scalp. I have only regained my senses within the past hour. I still feel as if I should take to my bed, but it is of no matter. What matters is that I am here now to assist you as needed.”
John had walked a circle around Sean, three times. Twice he had inspected the massive gash across the back of his head as if making sure that Sean was not lying. With the final inspection, he went back over to the chair that sat near the massive hearth of his warm, smelly, dirty bedchamber.
“Thank God,” the king muttered as he sat. “I have been in a panic for two days wondering what to do. My enemies have fled, only to rouse armies to attack London and my supporters are spread too thin. We should have known about this, de Lara. We should have seen it coming.”
“We did, sire.” Sean gingerly touched the back of his head. “We saw it and we told you it was coming. We just did not know the exact time.”
“With all of the spies I employ, surely someone would have known something.”
“What about de Braose?” Sean wanted to know. “Before I had my brains bashed in, we had captured young de Braose. Have you not discovered anything from him?”
The king shook his head. “Gerard does not have your touch in such matters. De Braose is useless now.”
“Why?
“Because Gerard beat him so badly that the man has been unconscious for days.”
Sean cast a long glance at Gerard, hovering back in the shadows as the two of them usually did. He lifted an eyebrow. “That,” he said, “was not necessary. I have taught you better than that.”
Gerard smiled at him, an admission of wrong-doing without truly admitting it. Sean shook his head, sighing heavily as he did so. “And I had the St. James sisters as captives. Whoever did this to me must have taken them.”
“Pity,” the king said. “Gerard told me that the elder daughter was a beauty.”
It was Sean’s way of discovering if Sheridan’ was in the king’s possession. Sean didn’t know if he felt better or worse to realize that she wasn’t. Even though she wasn’t here, he still did not know where she was.
Now he faced a desperate internal struggle; to go after Sheridan or to complete his mission. He went back and forth until his head was ready to explode. His thoughts were misty, chaotic, but he was able to discern one prevalent concept; he did not want to ruin what he’d worked so hard to achieve. He was so close to victory that he could almost taste it. Sean had never been a quitter. He had to finish what he started and go after Sheridan with a clear mind.
“Where are the commanders of the army?” he asked. “I must be updated immediately. If there is even a chance that the Tower will be breached, then we must act now to get the king to safety.”
“It is under control, Sean,” Gerard spoke up. “Michael de Vere has the command of the Tower. He assures me that it will not fall.”
Sean lifted an eyebrow. “De Vere is not the most capable. His family connections, not his knowledge, got him this post. Has he assessed the enemy’s strength? Does he know what other strengths they bring with them?”
Only Sean could speak so frankly in the presence of the king and get away with it. John put his hand up, calming any storm of conflict that might be arising.
“I will call a meeting with de Vere,” he said. “He can brief you on what has been done. Gerard, send out the word to my supporters. De Lara is back with us and we meet in one hour.”
Gerard fled, leaving Sean standing with the king. Sean’s head was killing him and his mind was racing like the wind, but he could feel the king’s gaze upon him. He knew it was mistrust, as Gerard had told him. Given the fact that he had been missing for two days, however justified, he could not blame him. John had been surrounded by intrigue all of his life. Suspicion was second nature. He turned to the man.
“Is there anything further you wish from me at this time, sire?” he asked.
John seemed inordinately calm in the face of London being attacked. He shook his head. “Why would you ask?”
“Because I thought there might be something more on your mind. My loyalties, perhaps?”
The king grinned, a lazy, ugly gesture. He knew what the man was referring to, with hardly a word of explanation.
“Sean,” he clucked softly. “Gerard should not have told you. Yet I should have expected it. There are no secrets between you two.”
“Do you wish to ask me anything?”
“Of course not.”
Sean didn’t believe him for one minute. The king was, if nothing else, perpetually wary of everyone around him.
“Very well,” Sean replied. “If there is nothing else, sire, then I will go clean myself up and return for the conference.”
Sean was almost to the door when the king spoke again. “I am told the allies will not reach the Tower for at least another day or two, enough time for you to raise an army and depart the city.”