Page 77 of The Mercenary

Guy glanced back at his wife, who had just peeked her eyes open.

“I will return shortly,” he said, reluctant to leave. The previous night had been, unequivocally, the best of his life.

Her smile the only answer he needed, Guy shut the door behind him.

“A report from the north,” Conrad said in an undertone.

Some would say Licheford was in the north, but not those who resided along the border. Concerned, he followed his friend into a chamber he’d never seen before. It was the lord’s chamber, he quickly realized, one Conrad himself should occupy. But he did not.

He’d never asked why before, but as soon as Guy stepped into the room, he knew the answer. It was pristine, as if his parents had stepped away moments ago. They’d been dead for five years.

A chill ran up his spine. But when Conrad sat on one of the wooden chairs before the hearth, seemingly quite comfortable, Guy followed suit.

It was a handsome chamber, the large bed worth more than some small manors, no doubt. Even the chairs on which they sat were so intricately carved that Guy was reluctant to touch the engravings.

“So early?”

“Apparently the messenger was told not to rest until this found my hands.” Conrad handed him the missive. “And he is not our only early morning visitor. The men I sent after you finally returned.”

He read it, silently thanking his mother for at least this one thing. Most men he knew could not read, but she’d insisted he learn to read in both French and English despite the cost of a tutor.

“How is he the first to learn of this?”

It astounded him how Terric, a Scot, continued to be a primary source of information on their English king.

“He’s well-connected” was all Conrad said. Which was true. Terric’s English earldom afforded him credibility and influence in England. Like his father, Terric found the earldom difficult to maintain while attending to his clan. Wherever he resided, the other complained. With the current troubles, Terric had not been back to Bradon Moor since the previous spring.

“As is John, apparently.”

The missive was not good news.

Conrad took back the letter. “Langton alluded to this possibility.”

“But you said he did not believe the pope would support John.”

Conrad shrugged. “Apparently he was wrong.”

“A setback, to be sure.”

Terric’s message was short but very clear.

By pledging himself to a Crusade, the king had garnered support from Pope Innocent III, an action that would make it nearly impossible for them to gain future support from the barons.

“Will some of those who have pledged to us withdraw their support?”

Guy wasn’t sure why he asked the question as he already knew the answer.

“Undoubtedly.”

Conrad crumpled the parchment and tossed it across the room as he stood.

Muttering a string of obscenities, he paced back and forth until Guy could stand it no longer. “Will you sit?”

Conrad glared at him. “You manage to send Bande de Valeur back to France, a feat that none actually thought possible—”

“I appreciate your confidence in my efforts.”

“You know as well as I do it was always going to be difficult, if not impossible.”