Part 23 (1/2)

Crispin jerked his head to Jack, who nodded and hurried out of the room. The emissary was waiting in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, a smarmy bloke named Pennington. Crispin hadn't known he was coming, and if Crispin didn't know about one thing there were at least ten more waiting to pounce.

”Oy, Buxton wants you, mate.” Jack motioned to the man to come with him.

”Of course he does.” The t.o.s.s.e.r dared to give him a hoity-toity sniff. Well, he couldn't care less what the idiot thought, royal emissary or not. He lead the man up the stairs to Buxton's room.

”But my lord,” Crispin was arguing with Buxton yet again, ”to leave me in the dark is not only irresponsible, it's-”

”Shut up, Huntingdon!” Buxton spun on him with a fierce frown. ”You're sounding more and more like your wife every day.” He lashed out and hit Crispin across the face with the back of his hand. Crispin had so many scratches from blows like that now that it was a wonder Aubrey even bothered to patch them up. At first Jack had wondered why the h.e.l.l he put up with the abuse, but the mouse carca.s.ses littering the floor was enough of an answer. Just because Buxton treasured you one minute didn't mean he wouldn't step on you the next.

”Ah!” Buxton melted to sweetness when he saw Pennington. ”What news from London!” He left Crispin and sidled up to the hoity-toity emissary.

”My dear Buxton,” Pennington drawled. ”So good of you to invite me for this momentous occasion.” The hair on the back of Jack's neck stood up. Pennington turned to Crispin with an obsequious grin that curled into a sneer. ”I hear you've been making security arrangements for Prince John's arrival.”

Crispin's back went stiff. ”We have doubled the number of guards in and around the castle for the Prince's stay. The top of the High Tower will be manned at all times and only the prince, Buxton, and myself will be allowed access while he is here.”

”And Pennington,” Buxton added.

Jack sucked in a breath at the twitch in Crispin's jaw. ”Of course.” Crispin's voice was so dark that it wasn't much more than a growl.

”That's all well and good,” Pennington sighed and waved a limp hand with a sniff, ”but what about these rumors we've been hearing about a dispossessed n.o.ble who fancies himself a highwayman?”

Buxton snorted and threw his arm around Pennington's shoulder. ”He's nothing. Just a story. Crispy's got that all taken care of, don't you Crispy?”

”Yes, my lord.”

”See, nothing to worry about.” He slapped Pennington's back.

”Mmm. Right.” Pennington sidled towards the door, rubbing his hands. ”Feel up for a game of chess, Alfie?”

”Chess? G.o.d no!” Buxton waved him off.

”If you change your mind....” Pennington shrugged and turned to leave the room. As he did he looked down his stubby nose and sniffed at Jack. Jack grinned as though the man had paid him a compliment then ignored him.

Buxton ambled over to his mouse hutch. Jack glanced to Crispin for his next cue. Crispin just stood there, tall and impa.s.sive the way he did when he was thinking. His face held no expression at all but his eyes shone bright blue. He'd learned to recognize that look. It wasn't good.

”And you, Huntingdon!” Buxton shouted as if he were in the middle of a tirade instead of at the beginning of one. The man's mood swings could give Sister Bernadette apoplexy. ”It's been months since I ordered you to kill Ethan of Windale. But oh, what's this? He's still alive?”

In the blink of an eye Buxton grabbed a dagger from the table and lunged at Crispin. He stopped short of thrusting it into Crispin's gut. When Crispin flinched Buxton laughed. ”One or the other of you had better be dead before the end of the week, Huntingdon.” He traced the tip of the dagger up Crispin's chest, across his heart, and sliced the fastening that held his tunic closed near his neck. ”I would have thought that you wanted Windale dead,” his voice was a sinister purr, ”before he uses your sweet wife to populate his land with b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.”

”We could raise the reward for his capture, my lord.” Jack watched in awe as Crispin ignored both the threat of the dagger and the burning in Buxton's eyes as he peeled the neck of his s.h.i.+rt lower with the blade. The man had b.a.l.l.s of iron. ”Announce the higher price at the Faire.”

Buxton's face switched from being driven by rage to thoughtful. He took a breath then stepped back and waved the dagger around as if it were a toy. The light in his eyes sent a chill down Jack's spine. He didn't know how Crispin could stand so still in the face of whatever disaster Buxton was hatching. ”People love to bet on a good fight, don't they.” He turned to Jack who blinked as he tried to follow the hazy line of logic. ”Don't they!”

Jack jumped as the dagger pointed in his direction. ”Uh, yeah! Yeah, they do.” Buxton's eyes flashed with fury and he charged Jack, dagger first. ”My lord!” Jack remembered moments before being run through.

”That's better.” Buxton laughed as if coming inches from making Jack soil himself was funny. He slipped towards Crispin. ”Here's the plan. We lure Windale out into public with a contest at arms. n.o.bles only, of course. I'd be willing to bet that Windale won't be able to resist a good contest. We draw him in, spring a trap, and arrest him. We can even have him hung at the feast ending the Faire as the highlight of the whole grand event. Ooo! That's good! Prince John would love that!”

Crispin s.h.i.+fted. ”My lord, if Windale didn't show up for the compet.i.tions at the end of the Council of n.o.bles how can we a.s.sume he would be present for the compet.i.tions at this faire?”

”He didn't show up because you were busy marrying his woman!” Buxton glared fire at Crispin, temper swinging like an axe on a rope. He planted a hand on Crispin's chest for a moment before it balled into a fist and pounded him hard enough to make Crispin lose his breath. Buxton's eyes glittered with inspiration. ”Ah, but this time we can dangle his woman in front of him. Good idea, Crispy.” He spread his hand across Crispin's collar then slid his fingers into the neckline of Crispin's s.h.i.+rt and across his bare chest.

”My lord....” No words followed as Crispin caught his breath and glanced at Buxton's hand at work. It was all Jack could do not to lose his lunch as he realized Buxton's intent. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the teasing motion of Buxton's fingers across Crispin's nipple.

”You will bring Lady Aubrey here for the Faire. And if she's not enough....” He glanced up to Jack with a sick smile. ”You say that one knows Windale's ways.” The blood drained from Jack's face. ”I should probably kill him.” He shrugged, pulling his hand out of Crispin's s.h.i.+rt, glancing up into his eyes. ”He should be able to tell us just what sort of thing would appeal to Windale's ma.s.sive ego.” Buxton glanced to Jack with questioning eyebrows raised.

”I, yeah, uh, I think it's a grand idea, my lord,” Jack choked. ”Yeah, uh, Windale. If he thinks that he's protectin' Aubrey....” He trailed off, glancing up to Crispin to see if he'd said the right thing or if he was making it worse. Crispin wouldn't acknowledge him.

Buxton's grin widened and he walked over to slap Jack's shoulder. ”Not bad for a first try, Crisboy.” He slid his hand up Jack's shoulder to flick his earlobe.

”Oy!” Jack slapped at his ear, and jumped away from Buxton as if he'd held a torch to his head.

Buxton ignored the reaction. ”We have this faire, an armed combat compet.i.tion, and if we fail to catch Windale then we'll just kill this one at the feast instead.”

”My lord, no,” Crispin defended him, stepping forward.

”No?” Buxton whipped around to glower at Crispin. ”No?” He smashed Crispin across the face with his ring-filled hand. ”You do not tell me no, Huntingdon!” He struck out again, punching Crispin in the gut and doubling him over. ”What do you care about that one anyhow?” He grabbed Crispin's jaw in his tight grip and brought his face to Crispin's, ignoring the blood that was beginning to drip from Crispin's nose and onto his hand. ”Things were so much nicer when it was just the two of us,” he purred. ”First you let her get between us, now him.” Gently he kissed Crispin's jaw where it met his ear. Then he bit his earlobe.

Crispin jerked. Buxton let him go with a laugh. He forced himself to stand straight and wiped at his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. ”Do you want me to proceed with the preparations, my lord?”

Buxton remained still for a few moments, watching as the blood from Crispin's nose trickled across his hand. His tongue flickered out to taste it, then he sniffed and wiped his hand on his chausses, pacing across the room. ”Yes, I think so.”

”Then I will take my leave, my lord.” Buxton waved them off as he leaned out the window.

Crispin glared acid at his back and turned to leave, motioning with his head for Jack to follow. His nose was still bleeding. Jack was on his heels in a heartbeat, eager to get as far from Buxton's madness as he could.

”Oy, I got an idea, mate.” He was surprised that his voice shook. ”Why don't you, me, an' Aubrey pack up our stuff and high-tail it outta here. I hear Coventry's nice this time of year and Buxton'd never-”

”I don't want Aubrey anywhere near this Faire.” Crispin ignored Jack's babbling.

”I hear ya, mate.” Jack shook his head as they started down the stairs. ”I wouldn't want a dog I didn't like near this place ever again.” Crispin glanced sideways at him as they descended, his face hard and pale. ”And what about Ethan? You really gonna kill him?”

They reached the main floor and Crispin burst through the hall and out the front door. ”No.”

Jack froze. He hadn't even thought about the answer before blurting it. And here he was sure that Crispin would be more than happy to do Ethan in. He felt a surge of protectiveness for the glowering man. ”Oy, you gotta do somethin' about your nose, mate.” He jogged down the stairs to catch up.

”It's fine.” He dismissed Jack without looking at him.

”And ... and your ear's bleedin' too.”

Crispin stopped and raised a hand to his ear only to bring it away bloodied. He sighed and stared at Jack, daring him to say anything.

Jack held up his hands, crucifix from his rosary dangling. He wasn't about to breathe a word of what he'd just witnessed. ”Look, mate, I think you should go home to Aubrey.”

”I have work to do.” He started marching for the stables again ”Let me do the work.” Jack wasn't sure where his offer was coming from, only that he didn't like feeling sorry for someone he respected. He didn't like respecting anyone in the first place.

Crispin wavered. He took a good long look at Jack, barely able to meet his eyes. Jack suspected he now knew something about the man that no one else knew, not even Aubrey, and he hated it.

”Well? Oy, neither of us is getting' anythin' done just standin' here like b.l.o.o.d.y trees, mate.”

Crispin softened. A light of understanding pa.s.sed between them. He sighed. ”Deal with Pennington first,” he gave in. ”If he squawks take him to talk to the master-at-arms. Once that's done have the guards spread the word about this b.l.o.o.d.y compet.i.tion.”