Chapter 22 #2
As expected, there was a pile of kirtles nearby, waiting to be brushed out as the accompanying linens were being washed.
Greer lifted an elegant green brocade that would become her, one that thankfully laced up at the front and not at the back, as that would be difficult to manage on her own.
Next, she took the brush in hand and swept it over the garment to ensure any debris had been removed.
After all, such cloth was far too fine to douse with harsh soaps.
Once it was clean, she stood up with a huff. “The mistress said she needs this immediately.” She spoke to no one in particular as she quickly strode from the room with the expediency of a servant on an important task. No one bothered to question her.
It was equally as easy to hide in an empty room, one filled with baskets of linens and other various household items. She dressed in the gown and secreted her dusty kirtle in one of the many baskets.
The green brocade was a near-perfect fit, save for being slightly too long, but it would do.
Falling back on her memory, she braided her hair back in an intricate pattern she’d used to appear more mature when she was younger and slipped from the room with a haughty step.
She was finally ready.
Just as the laundry room had been simple to find, so too was the Great Hall, as it occupied most of the castle's main floor.
She stepped through the massive doors, and the room went silent upon her entry.
Eyes fixed on her as she crossed the rush-covered floor to where the dais sat to the far right.
“What a lovely lass,” someone to her right whispered.
“I have a kirtle nearly exactly like that,” came a feminine voice.
Greer quickened her step lest the woman looked too closely and realized it likely was her kirtle. The people she passed were not the only ones who stared. So too did the king.
The queen was not at his side, and for that, Greer found herself thankful. Men could be easily manipulated by a skilled woman, especially when they felt another was not watching them.
The guards standing before him followed Greer with their eyes. She stopped before them and offered a confident smile. “I’d like to speak with the king.”
One opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.
“Let her through,” the king said.
She hesitated by the guard and fluttered her lashes at him. “Would ye be so kind as to summon Beathan?”
The man frowned.
“I believe ye call him Bean,” she added as if his informal name were foreign on her tongue.
The man nodded. “Aye, my lady.”
Greer let her victorious smile show as she sauntered up to the king and curtseyed the way ladies did. “Yer Majesty.”
He was younger than she had expected. Barely above adolescence with a beard upon his chin as though he were trying to add years with its appearance. He grinned at her with a youth’s interest when it came to a bonny lass.
“I’m Mistress Fletcher,” she said. “Wife of Drake Fletcher, who yer men recently took prisoner.”
The king’s welcoming demeanor shifted to wariness. “Yer husband killed an earl.”
“Lord Calver attacked him.” She breathed in and slowly let the air out to steady her racing heart. “I wish to testify against Lord Calver.”
“Testify in what manner?” The king lifted a brow, though she didn’t know if he was intrigued or merely placating her.
“He was skimming the taxes he owed ye, and he killed Lady Eileen when she threatened to unveil his perfidy.”
“What did ye say?” a voice said from somewhere behind Greer.
She glanced over her shoulder to find an older man striding toward her, his face strained. “About Lady Eileen.” The guards parted for him, and when he approached, she could see such pain in his eyes that she knew without a shadow of a doubt he must be the dead woman’s father.
“Forgive me,” she said gently. “But Lord Calver was responsible for Lady Eileen’s death.”
The man cast a desperate look up to the king, who fixed his attention on Greer. “What proof do ye have of this?”
“A witness,” Greer said as she scanned the room in the hope Bean and Mac would make haste. “One Lord Calver had in the dungeon and meant to keep silenced by hanging him.”
As if summoned by her desperation, a door to the right opened, and Bean entered with Mac. Greer’s brother appeared even younger than his twelve summers from the weeks of starvation in a dank, sunless cell. Already diminutive, he appeared to shrink into himself at the attention of so many eyes.
“He’s just a bairn.” The king waved Mac over and addressed him directly. “Ye were placed in the dungeon for what ye saw?”
Mac looked around him, his eyes enormous in his small face as he took in how many people were attentively watching him.
“Leave us.” The king’s command was given with such volume that it echoed from the stone walls.
The room cleared at once, so only the king, Mac and Greer remained. And Lord Androll.
Greer had moved to depart as well, but the king held up his hand to indicate she should stay.
The king leaned forward in his chair and peered at Mac. “Did ye see Lord Calver kill Lady Eileen?”
Mac nodded. “Aye, yer majesty.”
“What was she wearing?” Lord Androll demanded.
Mac squinted in the distance as he appeared to call upon his memory. “A pink kirtle and a necklace with pink stones.”
The color drained from Lord Androll’s face at hearing proof that Mac had seen his daughter on her last day alive. He nodded at King David, who nodded toward Mac. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
“I saw them in the clearing in the woods that day,” Mac replied earnestly.
“She said he was committing treason, that he wasn’t giving the king the full taxes, and she knew about it, that she would tell.
He told her to mind herself, but she wouldna stop talking about how he was stealing from the crown.
Before she could finish what she had to say, his face went the color of roasted pig, and he ran at her, hitting her with his fists and screaming like a madman.
” Mac’s lips twisted slightly as he paused.
“I was hiding behind a tree until then and ran out when I saw him hit her. But before I could get to her, he struck her with such force that her head turned to the side. She dropped to the ground, and dinna get back up. The way she fell like that, I knew I couldna help anymore.”
Mac stared off in the distance as he spoke, his gaze haunted by what he’d witnessed.
“’Twas brave of ye to try,” the king offered.
Mac blinked at the words and jerked his attention to the king. “I suppose it was…” The left toe of his shoe dug into the rushes at his feet in his bashful acceptance of the compliment.
The king lifted his brows. “And that’s when the earl saw ye.”
“Aye. Lord Calver shoved at her, so she rolled down the hill, and that’s when he saw me.
I tried to hide, but his guards came after me later, capturing me.
” Mac shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“They wouldna tell me what I’d done wrong or let me out.
They wouldna even get notice to my sister—” He paused and sniffled.
Greer’s heart clenched at how terrified he must have been—confused and alone in that dark, terrible cell.
“Thank ye for sharing this,” the king said in a grave voice.
Mac nodded and twisted the toe of his worn shoe into the rushes once more.
The king kept his face impassive as he dismissed them. As Greer was leading Mac from the room, the king asked the guards to bring up the prisoner.
The strength in her legs bled away, and she nearly collapsed at the implication of that order. She only hoped that Mac had shared enough and the king had believed him.
Drake’s life depended on it.