Willow turned to the bard, a grin on her lips.
Christian caught her hand.
Willow bobbed her head to the beat of the song. “He’s very good,” she said, having to raise her voice to be heard.
Christian nodded, but his attention was on Marcus, who spoke to a black-haired woman behind the counter. She nodded and signaled for him to follow.
Marcus looked at the others, then scanned the room before trailing the woman.
The crowd was thick, and it seemed to Christian that a different person jostled him with each step. He maneuvered by one merchant and apologized to the other when he squeezed past. He pulled Willow after him. She would have been happy to stay and sing with the villagers.
He trailed Landyn through a rear door into a small, quiet room. Boxes, bottles, and crates lined the wall. Another door was against the far wall. One torch flickered on the wall, doing little to illuminate the room. A heavy, musky scent permeated the room.
“I’ll find her,” the woman said to Marcus and returned to the rowdy room. “Wait here.”
When the door closed, Christian glared at Marcus in the darkness. “Enough mystery. What is this place?”
“An inn,” Marcus answered. “This village is sympathetic to the Templars.”
“You can be sympathetic and a spy at the same time,” Christian retorted bitterly. “It depends on how much you are paid.”
“If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it,” Marcus snapped.
“Stop,” Sage commanded and faced Christian. “Marcus is doing all he can to help.”
As Sage turned to Marcus, Willow put a calming hand on Christian’s arm. The women were diffusing the situation, and Christian knew it. He wondered how long it would be before the lit fuse reached the powder. He faced Willow with his head down and tight lips. She placed a hand on the side of his face.
A loud cheer rose from the other side of the door, drawing their attention.
“I’m honored to have the Hawkes in my establishment,” a female voice greeted from a dark corner.
They turned and saw a woman emerging from the darkness. She was shorter than most women and might have been mistaken for a child. Her brown hair, which fell to her waist, was tucked behind her ears.
Christian wondered how long she had been standing there.
“Thank you,” Willow replied.
Marcus surged forward and embraced the woman. “It’s good to see you, Jo,” he greeted, pulling back.
“I’ve been busy,” she said and eyed the others in the group. She cocked her head to the side, and a strand of brown hair fell in front of her left eye. She blew it away, but it swept into the same place a moment later. Her gaze moved over the group, coming to rest on Christian and Landyn. “I’m assuming you two are associated with the Templars.”
Marcus looked back at Christian and Landyn.
Trepidation flooded Christian’s body, and his muscles tensed. He straightened. He knew Sage trusted Marcus, but everything in him told him to be on guard.
“I am Sir Landyn of Winchester, and this is Christian Sterling. We both have ties to the Templar Knights,” Landyn explained.
Jo clenched her lips and shook her head as she bent to move a crate aside. “It’s a terrible time for the knights,” she whispered, keeping her voice low. “They are being rounded up and arrested all over France.” She faced them again. “Rumor has it this plague will spread to England, Scotland, and further.”
Christian ground his teeth in anguish. “What of Grand Master De Molay?”
She cast a sad glance at Christian. “He was the first to be taken.”
Willow eased her hand into Christian’s.
Even her soft skin and gentle squeeze could not relieve Christian’s apprehension. The Templars had done nothing wrong. The king was jealous and greedy. “How can they arrest them? Under what guise?”
Jo shook her head. “Blasphemy. Sodomy. Heresy. It seems anything he can come up with.”
