judgment.”
Know this, Drake fitzAlan. Though I serve John, I am your man .
Remembering the moment when Drake could have run his sword of justice through the king’s brother but chose to turn aside, Mallory nodded toward the young knight but said to John, “You, mon seigneur , and you alone.”
“Then do your duty.”
In what proved to be an effortless task, the sentries briskly disarmed those nearest—Chauvigny, Béthune, and Fors—and secured them in shackles …
“By the bye,” John said casually to Drake. “We have already taken your squire into custody. You shall see him soon.”
… and failed to take heed of the fourth much more dangerous knight, whom they presumed the comte had well in hand.
They couldn’t have been more wrong. A sword clattered heavily to the floor. Feet shifted in the rushes. A dagger appeared. Drake swung around the disarmed comte de Mortaigne and put the blade to the front of his quivering throat. Rescue was instantly thwarted with the heavy-handed tip of a dragon sword thrust violently forward.
Holding up his iron-fettered hands, Chauvigny, shouted, “Release us, you knaves!”
Mallory d’Amboise shifted his vision between three benign knights versus one formidable one, and took a tentative step toward the formidable one.
“Stand off should you wish to be heroes ,” Drake shouted.” Or advance, should you wish to be executioners. Well? Which is it to be?”
And d’Amboise, helpless to either prevent or assist, looked at the three-foot blade pointed at his heart and said, “Go, Drake!” His words rang with authority.
Using the dagger like a bridle at the comte’s throat, he kept the sentries at a respectful distance. John would have spoken if Drake had allowed. He would have swallowed bile if Drake had allowed. Even in the face of losing every bit of pride and self-respect, he would have swooned to the filthy rushes if Drake had allowed. Instead he found himself being led backwards by the razor-sharp edge of the dagger.
Drake maneuvered the prince beyond the wide portal separating gatehouse from courtyard, and seeing escape close at hand, projected his voice to the rafters and crowed. Intimidated by the young knight’s apparent lunacy, Mallory’s men looked to their captain for guidance. In their hesitance, Drake flung John away, swung shut the massive double doors against onslaught, and quickly secured the draw bar. The pounding of fists reverberated, but the doors held fast.
Drake spun around and faced his adversary. “As I was saying, a very pretty costume, but unsuitable for fighting.” Pitching John against the wall and whipping the jewel-encrusted belt out from around his waist, Drake continued equably, “But wholly suitable for lovemaking. The feisty Jacotte, perhaps?”
John howled as Drake bound the leather strapping around his wrists. “You dare lay a finger on me? And worse, accuse me of murdering a lady?”
Drake tumbled him to the ground , and removing a bridle from a hook, lashed the comte’s feet together. “Once a rabid dog has tasted blood, it wants another taste. Were it not for your short stature, you might have made a passable knight. As it is, you’ll make a bad king. And it is my duty to prevent such a wretched fate from coming to pass.”
“Philippe was right. You are a contemptible whoreson.”
Drake gathered up the reins of Béthune’s steed. “I should have killed you when I had the chance. I’d be dead, but then again, so would you.”
“You will pay for this. As God is my witness , I will make you pay.”
Drake opened the sally port and mounted Béthune’s bay palfrey. “It would seem you have no luck, John, when it comes to overpowering an unarmed knight.”
And Drake was off, urging the horse through the door and escaping across the drawbridge into the early light of dawn.
Chapter 10
ON THE CALAIS ROAD , the early-morning fog turned crisp white, blanketing ash and linden to near invisibility.
As if