Page 13 of Retribution

He intended to keep that spirit.

Therefore, in a show of unification, he was going to resurrect their original standard. When the unit was formed years ago, Henry had given them their own banner—a crimson background with a yellow shield and three blue swords. Originally, Henry had wanted to have six swords, each representing one of his men, but that made the standard too crowded, so he settled on three swords to signify unity.

In the beginning, they had tunics that bore their standard and they wore them proudly, but over the years, they’d transitioned from those tunics to more ceremonial wear than ones they wore every day. Eventually, they stopped wearing them altogether in favor of becoming less obvious about who they were and what their duties were—as opposed to shouting it to the world and possibly making them, and Henry, a target.

But Aidric was going to revive that old standard.

It was time.

With three of the senior members of the Guard of Six now officially either former or only part-time members, that made Aidric the most senior member of the group and, by that account, its leader. Things were going to be different under his management because he had a different group of men now. Two veterans in Britt and Dirk, but new members in Stefan, Orion, Bennet, and now Gerard. In his opinion, those men needed to feel as if they were part of something, with a group of like-minded individuals, and the new tunics were going to create that atmosphere.

At least, Aidric hoped so.

Tomorrow evening, a feast was being held at Westminster Palace that was meant to welcome Edward back to England as its new king, and the resurrected Guard of Six standards were going to be on full display. As Edward had said, there were no true allies. Vigilance was the order of the day. In this case, Aidric felt it was very important to show the restless barons and enemies of Edward that the monarch had a group of highly trained men at his side, more than willing to protect him, and any move against the king would be met with deadly force. Those crimson-and-blue-and-yellow tunics were going to convey that message, but in order to wear them, they actually had to have seven of them made. Surely that wouldn’t be a difficult thing to do.

And Aidric was going to find an expert.

“Where are we going, Aidric?”

The question came from Britt. He was riding slightly behind Aidric, followed by Dirk and Bennet. Stefan, Orion, and Gerard were back at Westminster, cleaning and polishing the weaponry they’d be wearing on their bodies during the feast.

Everyone had a task this day.

Especially Aidric.

“To the finest dressmaker in town,” he said, answering Britt’s question. “I have a task for her.”

“What task?”

Aidric had been deliberately quiet about his desire to don the Guard of Six standards again, and probably would have kept it a secret until the actual feast, but he had a reason for bringing Britt and Dirk and Bennet along—he needed their measurements. The rest of the group was mostly the same size, so all seven tunics could be easily made.

“Since you are asking, I shall tell you,” he said. “Do you remember the colors that Henry had commissioned for us when he formed our unit?”

Britt’s brow furrowed. He had to consider the question for a moment before he realized what Aidric meant. “Are you speaking of the tri-sword shield?” he said.

“Aye.”

“Of course I remember it. I think I still have my old tunic, somewhere.”

“We haven’t worn it for years,” Aidric said. “But we are going to start again. I am going to the finest seamstress in town to have her make tunics for us to wear at the feast tomorrow night.”

Britt’s eyebrows lifted. “Tunics?” he repeated. “For tomorrow?”

Aidric nodded. “I realize it is a short amount of time, but this seamstress is very popular,” he said. “Surely she has women whom she employs. If each lady sews one tunic, then it will not take them any time at all.”

Britt eyed him. “You are optimistic.”

“Mayhap. But it will be done.”

“She may have other commissions to do,” Britt said. “With the king’s feast on the morrow, surely she has commissions from many noblewomen.”

“Our commission will take precedence.”

“You are confident.”

“I wield the name of the king,” Aidric said, grinning. “No noblewoman’s commission can top that.”

Britt didn’t argue with him. They just kept plodding along, through the busy street, until they reached the Street of the Merchants. There was a smaller avenue off that street where seamstresses worked and the moment they turned onto it, they caught sight of a yellow-and-white carriage and an entire array of soldiers and fancily dressed horses. It looked like a parade.