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Bone Diggers - Chapter Forty Three

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A letter came one late October day in 1605. It had passed from Lord Monteagle to the King's spymaster, Robert Cecil, until it finally made it to the home shared by Daniel, Lance, and Chloe.

"My Lord, out of the love I bear to some of your friends, I have a care of your preservation. Therefore I would advise you, as you tender your life, to devise some escape, to shift your attendance at this parliament," Daniel read aloud.

Whispers of treachery were in the air, but this was the first concrete sign of it. Yet the warning almost seemed out of place. "Is this a setup?" Lance asked.

"I'm not sure," Daniel said, glancing up from the letter. "Let's go find out."

Robert Cecil was found on his way to a meeting. Instead of being panicked at the arrival of two thieves, he welcomed them. After all, why wouldn't he, as the head of the British guild. Having the ear of Kings and Queens was a rare position for someone of their guild, but it served them well. "Walk with me, boys."

"Sir, we had a concern," Daniel said.

"About the letter," Lance finished for him.

"Of course you do," Cecil said humorlessly. "Gael warned me about you. He said you liked to bend the rules, turn them into your favor instead of being limited by them."

Daniel looked away, thinking about what happened brought him no joy. It's the reason why he stayed away from the ghost town that was once his home. Despite his discomfort, Cecil went on.

"I think we have something in common. We both know the tenets are not as rigid as Gael believes they are. You also know of the King's reluctance to kick out the church's Knights. It's a violent world we live in. I merely plan to fight fire with fire."

"Preying off someone's fear that way makes you no better than those you seek to stop," Lance said. It was a horrifying suggestion that left no room for morality, just results.

Despite Cecil's age and smaller stature, Lance ended up on the ground when his elder threw a punch. Whether it was strength or surprise that caught Lance off guard, Daniel froze.

"I didn't think he would understand," Cecil said, looking at his fist that now hurt. Politics were his normal battleground, but it seemed the man had more in him than many gave him credit for. "But you, Ortiz, you understand the good that could come out of my plan."

Daniel broke eye contact with Cecil to look down at Lance. "The letter is a ploy. Allowing you to protect the few you desire, while sacrificing others like Guy Fawkes. In an attempt to force the King's hand against the rest of the Knights."

"Very astute of you," Cecil smiled as he spoke. "I knew you would understand. Now you can help me by—"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no," Daniel repeated. He reached down to help pick up Lance, whose eyes finally stopped watering. "I didn't mean to twist anything before, and I won't willingly do it again. Even if it helps, at what cost? Truth is all we have in the world."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night, dago?" Cecil hissed. "I serve king and country. If you don't approve maybe you should return to yours." Daniel had been treated as an equal until it had no longer benefited Cecil, then he was Spanish once again.

"You're right," Daniel said. He looked over to Lance, who glared as though he was the one insulted. "This mess is yours, and yours alone."

Maybe they should have gone directly back to Spain, but they decided to stay. Lance wanted to kill the bastard before he could do anything else, but Daniel convinced him to hold off, saying that his life wouldn't fix this problem. Hate didn't end with murder.