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Hall after lunch.”
    “But my lord,” Lord Gerald protested.
    “Crispin, look!” Aubrey’s gasp turned
everyone’s heads towards the front gate. A carriage bearing the
Plantagenet standard rolled into the courtyard. It was drawn by
four of the finest horses Jack had ever seen. He gave a whistle and
scratched at his pointed goatee at the sight.
    “He’s early.” Crispin’s observation was
delivered in such a low bass that the hair on the back of Jack’s
neck stood up.
    “Oy, this ain’t gonna be good, mate,” he
whispered to Aubrey.
    “No it isn’t,” she frowned. They took a few
steps to follow Crispin to the carriage before Aubrey reached out
and stopped him. “Before this gets out of hand….” She reached into
the folds of her skirt and pulled out a folded piece of parchment,
handing it to him with a frown that wanted to be a smile.
    “What’s this?” he asked, able to read his
name ‘Jack’ on one side at least.
    Aubrey didn’t have time to answer. The door
to the carriage opened and a page jumped out then turned and pulled
a step out of the carriage and placed it on the ground. Moments
later Arthur Pennington stepped into the courtyard.
    “Aw no, not him!” Jack moaned and rolled his
eyes at the sight of the man.
    Pennington had come to Derby last autumn,
ostensibly to barter peace between King Richard and Prince John.
According to Crispin the man was nothing more than a richly-paid
assassin. Jack couldn’t stand the pompous prick then and it looked
like the winter hadn’t improved him one bit. Pennington stood in
front of the carriage and stretched, reaching his stubby, royal
liveried arms out to the side with a careless yawn before putting
on a fake smile and glancing up to Crispin.
    “Ah! Lord Crispin!” He ambled towards
them.
    “Pennington,” Crispin greeted him with a curt
nod.
    Pennington’s smile faltered at Crispin’s
complete lack of deference. He twitched before his smile came back
and he held out his hand. Crispin took it, face expressionless.
“Congratulations on becoming Sheriff.” His grin was as oily as his
moustache. “Oh, and earl. I heard all about it from Prince John. He
says a worthier man has never held the office.”
    “The Prince acted on behalf of the crown when
he entrusted me with the care of the shire. I have a duty to obey.”
Crispin met the veiled threat without flinching.
    “I bet you do.” Pennington grinned as though
he had meant something else entirely.
    “I am eager for news from London,” Crispin
got right to business. “We are curious to know what could be so
important that a man such as yourself would be sent.” He glanced to
Aubrey and Jack at his sides as he spoke.
    Pennington’s smile turned sour as he glanced
to Jack. “We?”
    Jack didn’t need to do anything more than
grin at the man with all the self-satisfaction he felt to get under
his skin. “Lord John is my bailiff,” Crispin explained.
    “Lord John. Yes, I’d heard.” Pennington
wrinkled his nose. He cleared his throat and glanced away from Jack
and up to Crispin. Jack rolled his eyes and rubbed his hand around
the rosary on his wrist. “I’ve come to share our country’s great
misfortune with you,” he went on as though announcing that he had
brought tea and cakes for everyone.
    Crispin’s scowl deepened. “Our great hall is
being cleaned in preparation for an audience this afternoon and the
banquet tonight.” He gestured towards the cloister and began to
walk towards it. “I could have our cloister stationed with guards
so that we might meet there.”
    “What, no top secret heart-to-hearts in your
bedroom?” Pennington referred to Buxton’s eccentricities as they
walked across the courtyard.
    Jack and Aubrey fell into step behind the two
men, half an army of guards crowding in their wake. “You’ll find
that things in Derby run very differently now that Buxton is gone,”
Crispin told the man, back stiff. They entered the cloister, lined
with servants