Retribution by Kathryn Le Veque
EXCERPT
Year of Our Lord 1274
Westminster Palace, London
“Aidric? Get up. We must hurry.”
Aidric St. John had been sleeping lightly, as was typical of a man who was constantly on
guard, constantly in a state of readiness, but he must have fallen into a deeper sleep than he
expected because the whispered words were startling.
He was on his feet in a moment.
“Time for what?” he demanded of the man who’d awoken him. “What is the situation?”
The man who had awoken him grinned in response. The big knight with red hair, blue eyes,
and zero patience for anything he deemed foolery was up to something. Aidric could see it.
When he realized that they weren’t about to fight for their lives, he let out a furious hiss.
“Damnation,” he muttered. “What is this about, Britt?”
Britt de Garr had a twinkle in his eye, something that was incredibly annoying at this time of
night. He gestured to another man standing in the doorway of Aidric’s chamber and Aidric could
see the outline of Dirk d’Vant, like a hulking sentry in the darkness. That was what they all were,
really. Hulking sentries.
Assassins.
Protectors.
Personal guards for the late Henry III.
The truth was that they were now the personal guard for Edward I, who had only just
returned to England from crusade a month earlier. He’d been away when his father had passed
away and been gone for an entire year. A year that had left the Guard of Six in limbo, not
knowing if they were to continue at their posts as the guardians of the new king, or if they were
to be disbanded. It had been an uncertain year for them.
Uncertainty or not, however, they had a gravity at Westminster that could not be denied.
They’d become legend at the seat of England’s power, a rock-solid collection of men whom
the king trusted with his life. Still, as with life in general, things could change and it had been
changing for them over the past few years. The original core of the Guard of Six had been six
hand-chosen knights, men who were elite, from good families, but men who had, perhaps, a
mark or two on an otherwise spotless record. They had pasts. But they were also devoted to their
duties and even though they weren’t brothers by blood, and they hadn’t trained together, they’d
become bonded simply by serving together. It was a connection stronger than blood. Over the
past few years, as sometimes happens, a few of those men had married and their devotion
switched from the king to their families, as it should be.
Torran de Serreaux was the first, followed by Kent de Poyer and then Jareth de Leybourne.
From the original Six, only three remained. It was a tight-knit group, but they had some new
members that had proven their worth. That hadn’t been a simple task, something the newer
members had to work for. But one more member had been invited to join their ranks as of late,
by Edward, no less. There was nothing any of the Six could do to refute or reject the newest
member.
Not really, anyway.
But they were going to try.
“He has arrived,” Britt said.
That still didn’t clear things up for Aidric. “He?” he said. “Who he?”
Britt’s answer was to head out of the chamber, out into a corridor that was lit by fat-soaked
torches, sending black smoke into the ceiling. This was a small corridor near the king’s main
apartments, heavily guarded, where Henry’s personal guard slept when there was enough time to
do so. Aidric had been on duty for nearly two days, so being pulled out of a deep sleep wasn’t
sitting particularly well with him. He was following Britt and Dirk but he truly had no idea why,
only that “he” had arrived.
“The one we’ve been waiting for,” Dirk said. “De Velt is here.”
That announcement brought a bit of surprise from Aidric and he stopped rubbing his eyes.
“Truly?” he said, now quite awake. “I thought he was not due for another month.”
Dirk nodded. “We have received word from a man who supped at the Earl of Hereford’s
townhome last night,” he said. “De Velt was also a guest last night. You know that the House of
de Lohr and the House of de Velt are old and close allies.”
“When did we receive word?” Aidric demanded. “Why was I not informed immediately?”
“Because you’ve not slept in two days because of Edward’s arrival and you needed the rest,”
Dirk pointed out. “Ever since you’ve assumed the role as our lead, you’ve been working yourself
to the bone, man. I do not think I ever saw Torran work as hard as you have to ensure every
move the king makes is as smooth as it could possibly be.”
Aidric drew in a long, thoughtful breath. “Torran is our leader,” he said quietly. “He may not
be here today, or yesterday, or even last month, but he is still the leader. Kent assumed his duties
for a while, then Jareth, and now that they are both with their families at present, someone had to
take the helm. I have been with the Six the longest.”
“True,” Dirk said. “But you assume the role of leader of the Six easily. Britt and I are grateful
for it. It means we do not have to.”
Aidric smirked. “Worthless whelps,” he muttered, but quickly sobered. “Now, tell me why
you’ve only just awoken me if de Velt is on our doorstep. I should be the one to greet him.”
Dirk and Britt passed glances. “There is a welcoming party already,” Britt said. “Some of our
newer members are waiting for him to ensure he is a worthy addition to our collective.”
Aidric suddenly came to a halt, looking at the two of them in ominous confusion. “Explain
this to me,” he said. “What do you mean by that?”
As Dirk fought off a grin and averted his gaze, Britt answered. “Orion and Stefan are
preparing to greet de Velt as knights should,” he said. “You know that Stefan is a de Lohr and he
has known de Velt his entire life. They are friends. Orion is from the north, where his family are
allies of de Velt. It is only a good-natured beating they intend, Aidric. Do not be so concerned
with it.”
Aidric’s eyebrows lifted. “Good-natured…?” he repeated. He couldn’t even finish. “You do
realize they are about to descend on the knight known as Manmeat, do you not? Do you know
why they call him that?”
Dirk snorted, unable to control his humor now, as Britt struggled with a grin. “Ah,” he said.
“Manmeat. The man who makes meat out of others. The human butcher. Aye, we know. Orion
says he is going to call him Manny.”
Even Aidric was fighting off a grin after that one. “Christ,” he muttered. “He is going to
annoy the hell out of Gerard de Velt, a grandson of the legendary Jax de Velt, and we are going to
be picking up pieces of Orion from now until Christmas. And why does he have to make a
nickname out of everything? Poor Bennet is called Cheppy by everyone now and that is
exceptionally undignified for a man of his stature.”
That was a true statement. Bennet de Birmingham, another newer member of the Guard of
Six, was an older knight with a powerful reputation. He’d once been in command of Chepstow
Castle, which was how the nickname “Cheppy” had come about. He hated it, but thanks to
Orion, it had stuck.
“Leave it to Orion to make a man feel wanted,” Dirk said drolly. “He is going to do the same
thing to de Velt and de Velt is going to tear him limb from limb until he realizes that foolish
nicknames, harassment, and assaults are the way Payton-Forrester shows his affection.”
“Then we had better make sure no blood is shed,” Aidric said. “Hurry, lads. Orion’s life may
depend on it.”
With that, they picked up the pace, rushing through the corridors of Westminster, past the
doors to the royal apartments, past the chambers where the king held audience, until they came to
an exit disguised as a wall panel. It was a secret entrance, and exit, for the king, and they tripped
the latch and spilled out into the ward beyond.
The night was cold, a blanket of diamond-stars smeared across the sky. Somewhere near the
horizon, a half-moon hung nestled in the darkness, casting a tiny amount of silver light as the
three knights made their way to the west side of the palace. The abbey was off to their right as
they headed from the king’s chambers to the general area of the Jewel Tower. That was where the
cloister was, and several outbuildings with multiple purposes, including the chamber where the
Guard of Six gathered. Equipment was stored there as well as tools of their trade, and it was to
that chamber that de Velt had been directed.
And Orion was waiting.
They could only hope they were in time.
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