“A friend.” Those whispered words sent a chill through the listening men, for they’d been spoken in French.
Richard reached for his sword, always close at hand, and nodded at Guillain, who drew his dagger from its sheath and took up position against the wall. Arne then slowly slid the latch back, looking as if he expected to find a demon on the other side. The hinges shrieked as he pulled the door open to reveal the man from the alehouse. As soon as he stepped into the room, he found himself caught in a choke hold, Guillain’s arm pressing against his throat, his dagger poised to slide up under the man’s ribs.
“I am a friend!” the man gasped. “I swear it by the Blessed Mother!”
Richard signaled for one of the candles to be brought up to light the man’s face. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice as threatening as the sword he now leveled at the intruder’s chest.
His response was a gurgle, for Guillain had inadvertently tightened his hold. When he eased the pressure, the man gulped air before telling them that his name was Roger d’Argentan.
Argentan was a town in Normandy, which explained his fluent French. “Let him go,” Richard directed. Guillain did, but kept his dagger ready as he stepped back. “So why are you here, Roger d’Argentan?” Richard asked coldly. “It is an odd hour to be calling on strangers.”
Roger did not object when Morgan reached out and relieved him of his sword. Instead, he knelt before Richard. “It is urgent that I speak with you, my lord king.”
There were a few indrawn breaths. Richard gave away nothing, staring down at the kneeling man. “Are you daft?” he jeered. “When did you ever see a king staying in a sty like this? And for Christ’s sake, get up. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Roger stayed on his knees. “I am the sworn man of Count Meinhard. He was told that the English king might be coming his way and he dispatched me to find you, my liege, knowing I’d seen you when I’d returned to Normandy to visit my family. It was nineteen years ago, and you were just a lad of sixteen. But you’ve not changed much, sire. I knew you at once.”
Richard shook his head impatiently. “You’re either daft,” he said again, “or drunk. Do you truly think the English king would dare to venture into the lands of the Holy Roman Emperor with a handful of men? He is said to be reckless, not mad.”
Taking the cue, his knights chuckled. But Roger’s eyes were filling with tears. “What do I have to say to convince you? Why would I dare to come here like this if I did not want to help you? Once I recognized you, I had only to return to the castle and tell Count Meinhard. You’d have awakened to find the inn surrounded by his soldiers. Instead, I sought you out, risking all to warn you. As God is my witness, if you do not heed me, you are surely doomed!”
There was so much raw emotion in his voice that Richard hesitated; could any man be such a good actor? “You say you’re Count Meinhard’s sworn man. Why would you ‘risk all’ for the English king?”
“Count Meinhard is indeed my lord,” Roger said softly, “and he has been good to me. But I am Norman born and bred and you are my duke. I could not live with myself if I betrayed you.”
Richard studied the other man’s face intently. “I believe you,” he said at last, and Roger drew his first unconstricted breath since entering the chamber. He got stiffly to his feet as Richard asked why Meinhard thought the English king might be in Udine.
“He got a warning this morn from his brother, Count Engelbert of G?rz.” Catching the startled looks the other men exchanged, Roger smiled. “Engelbert let you go. I knew it as soon as I heard, for he’d have been loath to harm a man who’d taken the cross. But that wife of his must have goaded him into protecting his arse afterward.”
“I take it your lord does not share Engelbert’s scruples,” Richard said dryly.
“Count Meinhard is a good son of the Church. But he is also a vassal of the Holy Roman Emperor.” Roger paused to cough, for his throat was still tender, and he hoped the inevitable bruises would not be too conspicuous. His huge assailant no longer regarded him as a threat, though, for he’d sheathed his dagger, and now asked how he’d found their inn, saying he was sure Roger had not followed them. “I already knew where you were staying. There are not that many inns in Udine and I’d been to all of them.”