Wynter was in full agreement. “Then go,” she said. “I have some money you can use. There is an inn near the cathedral. I have heard it is very nice. Mayhap they have room for you.”
Christin grabbed her satchel from where she had set it on her bed. “I have some coinage.”
“I will give you more.”
Christin reached out and grasped her hand. “Truly, you do not need to,” she said. “But you must tell Peter where I have gone. He will worry.”
Wynter sighed heavily. “He will worry, anyway,” she said. “Let me send for him. Let him at least escort you into town.”
Christin shook her head. “He must not be an accomplice to my act of disobedience. This is something I must do alone.”
Wynter understood. Christin and Peter were quite close, and cared a good deal for one another, and she didn’t want to get her brother into trouble.
“Then let me go with you,” Wynter said. “You should not go alone.”
Christin smiled. “If you go with me, you will be an accomplice, too,” she said. “I cannot do that to you, Wynnie. You already know too much. You are going to have to plead ignorance in all things or you will get into trouble.”
Wynter knew that. Greatly distressed, she hugged Christin tightly. “Very well,” she said. “But you must hurry. You can slip from the postern gate and take the path to the farm fields below. It is much easier to leave their gate than it is to leave ours.”
Christin nodded. “I will,” she said. “Tell Peter… tell him that I shall return when the king has left.”
Wynter nodded, quickly going to the door to make sure there were no witnesses to Christin’s flight. There were other women in this building and she wanted to make sure no one was out, wandering around. Seeing that the landing was clear, she nodded to Christin, who bolted from her chamber and headed down the stairs.
She had just made it free of the building and was rushing towards the postern gate, also known as the meadow gate, when she saw a familiar face heading in her direction.
Alexander.
“Has William Marshal arrived?”
The question came from John as he looked upon Alexander and the tunic he wore. Having just witnessed the horrific scene between the king and Christin, Alexander wasn’t feeling particularly amiable towards the man. He could barely force himself to be polite in his response.
“Not that I am aware of, your grace,” he said. “I know that he is planning on coming but not when he is due to arrive.”
John simply nodded his head, faintly, sizing up Alexander. He knew who the man was; he knew it very well. John and William Marshal had shared a relationship with its ups and downs, but John knew that William’s main directive in life was to protect the monarchy, so essentially, men like Alexander de Sherrington were allied with him. Technically. But the truth of it was that William Marshal and the men who served him were spies and assassins, and from what John had heard, Alexander was one of the worst.
Or the best.
Either way, John was wary of him.
“Then leave and take the Irishman with you,” he said. “You are not required here.”
Alexander and Bric departed the solar without another word, heading out of the keep. They needed to talk and couldn’t do that with any guaranteed privacy in the keep, so they headed out into the torch-lit night, heading straight for the chapel because it would be empty at this hour.
The chapel of Norwich Castle was indeed dark and cold and empty. It had long lancet windows on either side, inlaid with precious colored glass depicting saints. The chapel wasn’t very big given the size of the castle, crowded on either side with de Winter family crypts. They were all buried here, all the way back to Denis de Winter, who had come to the shores of England with the Duke of Normandy.
Alexander looked around the dark, shadowed chapel before finally calling out to see if there was anyone lingering nearby. He didn’t receive an answer, nor did he hear any sounds, so he turned to Bric, keeping his voice barely above a whisper.
“How long has John been with Daveigh?” he asked.
Bric shook his head. “From nearly the moment he arrived,” he said. “Peter and Kevin and I arrived about a half-hour before the king did and we were speaking to Daveigh when John simply walked in. There was no announcement; the man simply arrived.”
Alexander ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Christ,” he hissed. “That entire situation was a nightmare. And now he wants to sup with Christin de Lohr? We cannot allow it.”
“I am not sure how we can stop it,” Bric said. “The king’s word is law. He is not denied.”
Alexander looked at him. “She is an agent in William Marshal’s service,” he said. “We have some obligation to protect her, even from the king. Most of all, we have to do something or Peter will get himself killed trying to save his sister.”
Bric knew that. Regretfully, he nodded. “I am glad he did not hear the royal summons,” he said. “In fact, we should probably remove him from the keep. Someone is going to tell him or he is eventually going to see it for himself when John demands his sister keep him company at sup.”
“Then get him out of there,” Alexander said. “Tell him what has happened but be gentle with him. We must try to keep Christin away from the king until The Marshal arrives. After that… he will have to deal with the situation.”
Bric nodded. “This is not something I expected. Of all the women the king could focus on…”
Alexander agreed with the irony of that statement but he was also trying not to look as if his concern for Christin was something more than simple duty. Worse than tipping Peter off would be to tip everyone else off. Alexander de Sherrington did not frolic with women, and especially not a fellow agent. He was torn between not caring what anyone thought and protecting his pride and reputation.
He was afraid that some might view it as a weakness.
“Go find Peter,” he told Bric. “I will go find Lady Christin. She ran out of the chamber so fast she must be halfway out of the city by now.”
“There are apartment blocks to the east of the chapel,” Bric said. “She may have gone there.”
It was as good a place to start as any. Alexander and Bric headed to the chapel entry, with Bric heading back to the enormous keep while Alexander turned towards the apartments, bathed in a soft moonglow. He was heading down the path, planning on checking the first building, when something at the end of the path caught his attention.
A beautiful moonlit wraith had entered his field of vision.
Christin.
“Where are you going?” Alexander asked as he came upon her in the darkness, noting the satchel in her hand. “What is happing, Cissy?”
Christin looked at him, struggling to keep the fear from her expression. “You were right,” she said quietly. “The king did notice me. Now he wants to dine with me. I am leaving before he sends his men for me.”
In spite of her best efforts to the contrary, Alexander could see the terror in her expression. With a heavy sigh, he put his hands out, grasping her gently by the upper arms.
“I will take you,” he said quietly. “That is why I came to find you. I will take you into the village and find a place for you to hide, at least until The Marshal arrives. I fear he will want you here, but with his presence, the king is less likely to do anything… foolish.”