Chapter Eleven

London

Rotri wasn’t expecting Peregrine.

Humiliated and furious after their defeat at Westminster, Rotri and Domnall had retreated back to their London apartment to regroup. They’d been there for a week. The marriage they’d tried to prevent had gone ahead and there was nothing they could do about it.

Nothing short of murder.

That was Rotri’s next step, as he saw it. Caledonia was married to a de Reyne knight, but knights were warriors. They went to battle and got themselves killed every day. All Rotri had to do was make sure Thor de Reyne was killed. Somehow.

But he wasn’t exactly sure how.

He needed to know more about the man.

That was where Peregrine came in. As the king’s most trusted servant who wasn’t an advisor or someone who held a formal title, Peregrine had access to men like Thor de Reyne without really being noticed. Surely Peregrine could tell Rotri something about Thor that could help him in his quest to rid himself of the man who currently held the title that belonged to Domnall, but Peregrine wanted coinage for his information. Domnall paid him the remainder of the money he’d brought with him to London, so Peregrine was growing rich off two greedy and conniving men.

Rotri intended to get his money’s worth.

“Thank you for coming,” he said as Peregrine sat down in his solar and Domnall poured him a measure of wine. “I am glad we finally have the opportunity to meet. You have been quite helpful to me and my son and we are appreciative.”

Peregrine, who was usually well dressed, had on rather plain clothing for the journey to the Dordon apartment because he didn’t want to be noticed. It had taken Domnall days to convince him to come, and even then he only did it when Domnall paid him well. But he wasn’t here for a social call. He’d figured out that Dordon and his son would pay him well for any information from the palace, specifically about Thor de Reyne or Gage de Reyne, and he was going to milk them for all they had. Some of the information he gave them wasn’t even truthful, but he’d tell them anything for the coins Domnall seemed to want to throw at him.

He was only here today for more money.

“You want something and are willing to pay for it, my lord,” Peregrine said. “Let us be honest—this is not a friendly visit. You want something from me, so ask your questions and be swift. I am expected back at Westminster soon.”

So much for pleasantries. Rotri sat down across from the man.

“I like a man who gets straight to the point of his visit,” he said, still trying to be polite in spite of Peregrine’s not-so-friendly attitude. “I want to know where Thor de Reyne is. I will assume he has gone back to Westminster? Do you know if he is living there, or is he elsewhere?”

Peregrine took a long drink of the cheap wine. “He is not at Westminster,” he said, smacking his lips. “The Earl of Tamworth and Stafford has gone north to inspect his properties.”

That was news to Rotri. “When did he leave?”

“About six days ago.”

“How long will he be there?”

“I do not know.”

“Did his wife go with him?”

“As far as I know,” Peregrine said. “I heard Ashington speaking of their marriage and the journey to visit the properties.”

Rotri passed a concerned look at Domnall. “He has left London.”

Domnall nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “Then mayhap we should leave as well.”

Rotri pondered that a moment before returning his attention to Peregrine. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?” he asked.

“What else do you want to know?” Peregrine asked, unhappy that he had been provided terrible wine. “Before you ask, know that I do not know the man personally. He is above my station. I am a mere servant and nothing more, so anything I tell you is rumor or observation.”

Rotri understood. “As I said, we are appreciative,” he said. “Has Ashington left, too? Or does he remain in London?”

Peregrine was looking at his wine cup, barely full, and the inordinate amount of dregs collecting at the bottom. Cheap wine, he thought. “Ashington is still here,” he said. “My lord, all I can tell you is that Tamworth was married to Lady de Tosni. That night, the king held a feast in their honor with fourteen courses, and the couple seemed content. They left London two days later. That is literally all I can tell you unless there is something more you have in mind.”

He seemed impatient. Rotri watched the man’s restless movements before shaking his head. “There is not,” he said.

Peregrine downed the rest of the cup and slammed it back to the table before standing up. “Good,” he said decisively. But he paused, looking between father and son. “I am not entirely sure what your obsession is with Thor de Reyne, but you must know that the man is unbreakable. He is a Blackchurch-trained knight, an elite warrior, who not only holds the title of Lord Protector to the king, but now he is the Earl of Tamworth and Stafford and commands thousands. More to the point, his wife, a lady who is your niece, is now under his protection. I know you have been trying to see the Archbishop of Canterbury for quite some time, and I know you showed up at Westminster Palace with a tale of some document that proves you have guardianship over the former Lady de Tosni, but I would strongly suggest you forget about her. Pursuing whatever you are pursuing with Thor and the lady will only get you killed.”

Rotri didn’t want to burn his only contact in Henry’s court, but he didn’t like the advice. It was difficult for him not to bite back.

“Thank you for the information,” he said through clenched teeth. “You may go now.”

Peregrine’s gaze lingered on the man before he snorted wryly and headed for the door. It was clear that he thought Dordon was ridiculous. When the man was gone, Domnall turned to his father.

“He is right,” he said quietly. “This is at an end, Father.”

But Rotri shook his head. “It is not at an end,” he said. “It will never be at an end until I have what I want. There is a way. We simply have to discover what that is.”

Domnall had never been as enthusiastic about this scheme as his father had been. He was more rational than Rotri, a man who believed God had played a bad joke on him by making Rhun his older brother. Domnall believed he was due the family fortune, but that was mostly because his father had impressed it upon him. Rotri had wanted it for himself, but knowing that he couldn’t marry his own niece, he would foist that responsibility onto his son.

But the obsession with it all was becoming irrational.

“And what would you hope to discover?” Domnall asked, struggling not to show his impatience. “You have spoken of killing de Reyne, but I will tell you that it is a futile plan.”

Rotri frowned. “Why is it futile? With no de Reyne, Callie will once again be a widow.”

Domnall shook his head. “You are not thinking this through to the logical conclusion,” he said. “If de Reyne is dead, then Callie is once again a prized widow and the king will simply marry her to someone else.”

“But I have a document that says—”

“Father, stop.” Domnall finally raised his voice. “Do you not understand? That document will not hold up. You are simply delaying the inevitable. You know this.”

“I do not!”

“The king is not going to make you a guardian of a grown woman with a large fortune, especially since that fortune now belongs to her husband!”

They were shouting at each other now. Frustrated, Domnall turned away, raking his fingers through his hair, while Rotri sat there and scowled. They often had these little tempests between them but they usually blew over. Knowing that they would never get anywhere if they continued to argue, Domnall struggled to compose himself.

“Father, you seemed to be focused on things that will not help this situation,” he said. “You are fixated on this document. You have started to speak of killing de Reyne, but you must know how impossible that will be. As Peregrine pointed out, he is a Blackchurch-trained knight. You cannot kill him. You cannot force the king to make you Callie’s guardian and you cannot kill her husband. How else are you going to gain the title and the money? You must think of something else.”

Rotri didn’t want to admit that his son was possibly right. Rotri was a schemer and a dreamer, always the one to come up with a plan. But that wasn’t happening with his niece. What he wanted was slipping through his fingers.

Domnall was correct.

He had to think of something else.

“If there is another way,” he muttered, standing up to pour himself some of that cheap wine. “If there is another way, what would it be? If I cannot gain control of Tamworth through that document or through marriage, how else can I gain it?”

Domnall leaned back against the wall. “You cannot,” he said flatly. “Unless she is going to simply give it over to you, which she is not, there is no way you can gain control of Tamworth.”

Rotri nodded in resignation. But then he came to a halt. His brow furrowed as an idea came to him and, suddenly, he wasn’t so resigned anymore. He looked at his son as if a bolt from God had just struck him, infusing him with the greatest idea of all time.

He set his wine cup down without drinking any of it.

“We must make her give it to me,” he hissed as the ideas rolled through his mind. “We must make her gladly give it.”

“How?”

“A ransom.”

Domnall looked at him in confusion. “What ransom?”

Rotri was onto something. “You know as well as I do that knights are often ransomed in battle,” he said. “I’ve heard of men gaining kingdoms through ransom. It was done quite frequently during Richard’s quest to the Levant. De Montfort did it with Prince Edward when he captured him in battle several years ago. If I could capture de Reyne, the ransom would be the Earldom of Tamworth. An earldom for Callie’s husband.”

Domnall was starting to catch on. “That is possible,” he said. “Though I am not sure she could give you the earldom, not without Henry’s permission. But she could give you the wealth.”

“Exactly,” Rotri said. “We will capture de Reyne somehow and ransom him back to his wife. And given that he is Henry’s Lord Protector, I am certain the king would do anything to ensure his safety.”

“Even agreeing to giving you Tamworth?”

“I may get more than Tamworth,” Rotri said excitedly. “The king may give me anything I want in exchange for his Blackchurch-trained knight!”

Domnall thought on the scheme, which was probably the most feasible one his father had come up with. Instead of focusing on something that was out of his control, like the marriage between his son and Caledonia, he was focusing on something he could control. The capture of a knight. True, it wasn’t just any knight, but with proper planning, it could be done.

After a moment, he nodded his head.

“Very well,” he finally said. “We capture de Reyne and hold him for ransom. But the fact remains that we must catch him first. How will we do that?”

Domnall shook his head. “I do not know yet,” he said. “Mayhap we pay a call on the new couple to apologize for the scene in the church and congratulate them on their marriage. Mayhap we offer a truce and pretend to be one happily family. Mayhap that will be his downfall—we will pretend to be loving relatives and his guard will be done. If de Reyne does not suspect we are coming for him, how can he prepare for us?”

“True.”

“Then we must return home immediately,” Rotri said, a sense of urgency in his tone. He picked up the old pewter bell he used to summon his servants and rang it loudly. “We must pack the household and go as soon as possible. Peregrine said they had departed six days ago, so they are well ahead of us by now. We must hurry.”

Domnall didn’t need to be told twice. As he headed down to the stables to make sure the escort was prepared, Rotri whipped his servants into a frenzy to pack the house so they could return to Dordon Castle.

Now with a new scheme to carry out.

Thor de Reyne’s days as a free man were numbered.