of authority. “You have nothing to fear from me, unless of course, Mistress Bidwell has been duped out of her senses— which I suspect she has—and has asked me to seek help from the wrong quarter.”
“Mistress Bidwell? … Biddy?”
The knight scowled and squeezed Friar’s wrist to the point of making the hand swell and turn bright red before he released it. “I gave her my word to seek you out, and seek you out I have. Now, by God, you will come with me or you will die here by your own misfortune.”
Friar glanced past the knight’s shoulder and shook his head quickly at someone who had stepped out from behind a small, straw-filled cart. The knight, sensing the threat, whirled around, as did the three guards, only to find themselves staring down the shaft of a slender ashwood arrow. The “monk” holding the bow was tall and slim; his cowl had slipped back to reveal a shock of bright copper curls and an even more shocking scar down the left side of his face.
The three guards reached instinctively for the hilts of their swords, but a harsh command from the knight stopped them.
“You,” he snarled, staring into Gil Golden’s amber eyes. “I know you, by God. You were the one who did this—” Sir Roger de Chesnai smacked his thigh just above the bulge of padding that distorted the fit of his hose. His expression grew blacker as he swept his gaze along the length of Gil’s robes. “Aye, ’tis well you hid yourself behind the church’s cowl, for I would have scarred the other half of your head for you by now.”
“You can still try,” Gil said calmly. “Although I stopped your boastings once with ease.”
“A lucky shot,” De Chesnai growled.
The tip of the steel arrowhead swerved up and held unwaveringly to an imagined target dead centre of De Chesnai’s brow. “No luckier than the shot I could use now to send your eyeball out the back of your skull.”
“Christ on a cross,” Friar muttered. “This is hardly the time for petty vanities. Kill each other later if you have a mind to, but for the moment, could we all set our differences aside and find the answers to some questions? Sir Roger de Chesnai—aye, I have fixed a name to the face—you are one of Sir Hubert’s men?”
De Chesnai continued to glower at Gil while he nodded. “Sir Hubert’s man, and now the Lady Servanne’s.”
The feeling of dread that should have dissipated upon identifying Sir Roger had not alleviated in the least, and now Friar knew why.
“Lady Servanne … has something happened to her?”
“Alaric—” Gil’s voice interrupted before the knight could reply. “I tried to reach you before you took your seat on the dais, but you were so close to Prince John, and there were too many people about.”
“Has something happened to Lady Servanne?”
“Not here,” De Chesnai commanded coldly. “A dozen pairs of eyes could be on us, and an equal number of prickling ears. And for God’s sake, tell this red-haired bastard to lower his bow before we are all done for.”
“Gil—” Friar signaled her to put up the longbow, and grudgingly she obeyed. On a further thought, she set both bow and arrow aside long enough to shrug out of the monk’s robes, which were now a greater hindrance than a disguise.
“The old woman is hidden nearby,” said De Chesnai. “It is best you hear all from her. Come. She may be holding on to life by a thread as it is; we can waste no more time.”
Alaric hesitated, wary of a trap. There had been no love lost between the old harridan and the Black Wolf; there was certainly no reason to trust Sir Roger de Chesnai, who still walked with a slight limp thanks to Gil’s aim. It could be a ruse, designed to catch Friar and lure out of hiding any others who were taking refuge amongst the castle inhabitants.
“All right,” Friar said. “Lead the way. But be advised there are more than a few steady hands pulling back on bowstrings as we wend our way through the shadows.”
De Chesnai’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. He beckoned his three men to fall into step behind him and started walking swiftly toward the castle’s cramped streets of smoky workshops. He followed a twisted route into the heart of the noisy, crowded labyrinth until they arrived at the start of armourers’ alley.