Page 40 of The Mercenary

“I’m here to negotiate on behalf of the Order of the Broken Blade.” The change in Guy’s demeanor caught her off guard. His easy grins and teasing jests had slipped away, leaving the very serious, very driven man she remembered from that first night at the abbey.

De Chabannes sat up a bit straighter.

“An order,” Guy continued, “formed to force the English king to heed the pleas of his barons.”

And there it was. Treason against the king.

“What, precisely, do you hope to negotiate with your visit?”

Guy placed his wine goblet on the bench beside him.

“Your return to France.”

De Chabannes took a long sip of wine as he stared at her husband, his eyes revealing nothing. “I’ve not heard of this order,” he said at last.

“You will.”

It was as if a gentle wind had run along her body, riffling her hair.

“The hour is late, and we’ve traveled far,” Guy said. “My intent this eve was simply to alert you to our presence in the village, as I know you’d have learned of it by morn. And to arrange another meeting between us.”

The leader looked at her. Sabine said nothing.

“We have been paid handsomely to sit in these tents and wait,” de Chabannes remarked simply.

He did not have to explain what his men waited for. All three of them knew King John would rather unleash a foreign army of mercenaries on his people than listen to their concerns. Or so it seemed at present.

“I am aware.”

Sabine took a sip of her wine, trying to appreciate its fine quality.

“Who’s paying you?” De Chabannes’s jaw flexed. A fair question to ask a mercenary.

“No one.”

Sabine did not understand the look that passed between the men, but she did know it held some significance. She would ask Guy about it later. For now, she fought her very nature and said nothing, continuing to sip the wine she’d nearly finished.

De Chabannes stood abruptly. Sabine held her breath as he walked toward them, but at the last moment he reached for the pitcher and held out his hand for her silver goblet. Somehow, he knew she’d already finished her wine. After refreshing both her drink and his own, de Chabannes sat back down.

Guy had not so much as sipped his wine.

“This order?”

Guy did not hesitate. “The Earl of Licheford. The chief of Clan Kennaugh and Earl of Dromsley, and Sir Lancelin Wayland of Marwood, now lord of Tuleen.”

He had just named all three men as traitors, but Sabine supposed it was necessary to gain de Chabannes’s trust before he would be swayed. Still, the boldness of his speech terrified her. One whisper in the wrong ear, and all four of them could be branded as traitors to the crown.

And me as well.

She took another long sip of wine.

De Chabannes nodded, more to himself than as a gesture to Guy. After a few moments, he stood again.

“It seems we have much to discuss.”

Guy stood as well and reached for her goblet. Taking it, he handed both to de Chabannes and offered Sabine his hand. She took it gladly, grateful for its strength. When Guy laced his fingers through hers, a calm settled within her for the first time since they entered the tent.

“Aye, we do. Sabine and I will be staying at Larebridge House.”