Chapter Eighteen #3
“Discipline,” Gaston repeated with outrage. “He beat them, priest. There is nothing in the world a woman could do to warrant that kind of severe discipline.”
De Tormo was quite calm and neutral, not at all staunch and opposed to what was being suggested. Remington found it surprising that he would not lecture them endlessly for breaking God’s commandment.
“Discipline can be interpreted many ways, de Russe. What is your interpretation might not be another’s,” he replied evenly. “Nay, an annulment must be based on something much more severe, as I said. If Guy were proven a traitor to England, or….”
“But he is in jail as a prisoner of the crown,” Remington suddenly said, forgetting her promise to remain silent. “Isn’t that considered a traitor?”
“Not unless he swears he is a traitor, which he will not,” the priest replied.
“If I were to ask him if he were a traitor to England, you know he would refute it. Nay, a man is only a traitor to his country if he is in league with another government or country. Guy is not guilty of betraying England herself, only his king.”
Remington looked at Gaston in confusion.
He understood the priest perfectly and put out a hand to her.
Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his huge palm.
“What he is saying is that Guy did not betray his country with the purpose of placing a foreign ruler on the throne. Guy fought against England for England. He’s not a true traitor in the sense of the word. ”
She hung her head in understanding; aware that Gaston had pulled her against the chair he sat in.
He still held her hand. She listened to Gaston and the priest converse, mildly surprised that the tone was civil.
In fact, De Tormo seemed to have lost his arrogant disposition and was speaking quite politely.
Then, something occurred to her. Devil worship, did the priest say? A thought struck her like lightening, so much so that she actually jumped. Gaston turned to look up at her, but she was focused on the priest.
“What if I could prove to you that Guy worshipped the devil?” she asked, her eyes glittering.
The priest blinked. So did Gaston. “You can prove this?” De Tormo asked hesitantly.
She nodded eagerly. “Aye, I can. Come with me and I shall show you.”
She flew to the door, opening it eagerly. The men were still sitting. “Get up!”
They followed her to the second floor of the keep, pacing down dim corridors. Gaston began to have an inkling of an idea as to where she was taking them, but held his tongue. He would not interfere with her plan, and an excellent one at that. He was glad he had not underestimated her cleverness.
As he suspected, she led them into the southwest turret and they carefully ascended the spiral stairs. Gaston was directly behind her in case she should lose her footing as they made their way to the tower room. Charles’ room.
Thankfully, Charles wasn’t there. Remington led the men into the room, a sinister assortment of implements and potions cluttered about the place as well as several books.
The overall impression was chaotic, as if a mad sorcerer kept shop in the room.
Remington pointed to the pentagram that decorated the near wall.
“You see? He worships Satan here,” she announced.
The priest’s mouth was open as he stared at the pentagram, eyed the potions and kicked at a bucket filled with something dark and slimy. He picked up a bowl and blew at it, only to be covered by a cloud of whitish dust. Coughing, he set the bowl down and eyed Remington.
In a cage hanging from the ceiling was a fat, nasty toad. The priest eyed it warily and the frog burped loudly at him.
“A toad,” he announced distastefully.
“He kept it to house his soul,” Remington said, hoping fervently that the man would believe that this was the room of a Satanist. Not the laboratory of a curious teenage boy.
“You are sure, my lady?” he asked.
She nodded unsteadily. “I told you I was married to Satan. I meant it.”
The priest’s gaze lingered on her a moment before he focused on a table holding several books. Gingerly, he retrieved one of the books and held it up to the light, examining it.
“Human skin,” Remington blurted. “That book is covered in human skin.”
The book clattered to the floor. “I have seen enough,” the priest announced, sweeping to the door. He looked pointedly at Remington. “My lady, I will testify before the papal counsel that I myself observed your husband’s house of devil worship. Have no fear that they will listen to me.”
“Thank you,” Remington breathed. “I simply want to be free of an evil, evil man.”
“No doubt,” the priest gave the room one final, disgusted look. “After seeing this disgrace, I have no misgivings that the baron should be burned at the stake. In fact, I might recommend just that.”
“But there is more to it than just your word,” Gaston entered the conversation. “What else is involved with the annulment?”
De Tormo was decidedly uncomfortable with Satan’s den behind him; he kept inching away from the door.
“Indeed, de Russe. You must obtain eight testimonies from notable and trustworthy people, who, for you, will not be difficult.” He glanced at Remington.
“But the lady must obtain testimonies from people who know of her husband’s indiscretions which, I fear, may not be so easy. ”
Remington gazed back a bit fearfully. “But…but he kept his devotion secretive. How can I obtain eight testimonies if no one knew of his lust?”
“As I said, it may not be so easy,” the priest glanced to the tower room again, shaking his head.
“Yet, mayhap with my own witness, the church will relax the lady’s restrictions.
But you realize, of course, that not only must the lady’s marriage be annulled, but Sir Gaston’s marriage to his deceased wife must be annulled as well. ”
Gaston nodded faintly; he knew that, but he was not concerned. The only matter that concerned him was Guy Stoneley. “I am aware of that, priest. The church shall have their eight depositions from the most powerful men in Henry’s court.”
The priest snorted. “No doubt one from Henry himself.”
Gaston lifted an eyebrow in response.
Without another word, the priest descended the stairs, leaving Gaston and Remington standing in the doorway to the tower room. When they heard the door slam below, they looked at each other.
Gaston smiled warmly at her. “My compliments, Lady Remington. A most brilliant move on your part.”
She flushed. “I hoped he would believe it.”
He took her in his arms. “Apparently he did,” he said softly. “Is that book really bound in human skin?”
She nodded. “It really is. But it is also over one hundred years old, from Egypt. ’Tis a book of ancient recipes.”
He laughed softly, rocking her tenderly in his arms.
She clung to him. “It is almost too good to believe, Gaston. Will he truly help us?”
“It would seem so, and without my having to blackmail him,” Gaston replied.
“Is that what you were going to do? Force him into helping us?” she asked softly.
“’Twas my intention,” he admitted. “I was going to pay several serving women to say that the priest slept with them if he refused to assist us with the annulment. As much as I loathe devious means to gain my ends, I would have done it. Anything for you.”
“You said when you first entered the solar that you had a proposition for him,” she said. “What was it?”
“That he help us attain our annulment and in exchange, I would not ruin his secular life,” he replied. “As it stands, I may not need to resort to bribery at all. You, my brilliant little tart, seemed to have spared the priest and I a most uncomfortable situation.”
She lowered her lashes shyly. “It wasn’t much.”
“Ha.” He took her hand and preceded her down the stairs. “You are incredibly astute, my lady. Our son will be the most intelligent, brilliant being on the face of the earth.”
She was rosy with the compliments as he led her to the second floor landing and opened the door.
“I must find Charles and tell him what I have done,” she said. “I would not want something to slip out inadvertently before we leave.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Inform your sisters, too.”
“I will,” she nodded. “I shall do it now, before I retire.”
They walked hand in hand down the corridor until they reached the main stairs, listening to the sounds of revelry floating up from the grand hall. There, he released her hand, but his gaze was soft on her face.
“And by the way,” he said, a bit of reproval in his tone. “You told your sister of your condition, did not you?”
She looked a bit stunned, trying to play off her surprise but not succeeding. “What… why do you say that?”
He tapped her under the chin. “Because I know. What did you tell her?”
There was no use in denying it. However, she put her hands on her hips and turned it around. “And do you know what else?” she said sternly. “It seems that we were not the only ones who couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Jasmine is pregnant, too.”
He did not look surprised. “Antonius will marry her.”
“And so is Skye.”
He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Ah. Well, Nicolas might be another matter. He may have to be convinced.”
“He does not know. Skye is afraid to tell him.”
He nodded faintly, turning for the stairs and taking her elbow. “Mayhap I should speak with him.”
“Aye, mayhap you should,” she insisted, relieved he wasn’t angry with her for spilling their “news”. Even if he was, he had not admonished her.
The hall was still in full swing, Gaston’s knights loud and boisterous with their games and songs. He kissed her hand and left her at the door, entering the room while Remington frantically beckoned her sisters to join her.
*
It was to be Remington’s last day at Mt. Holyoak before traveling to London. Gaston had told the priest they would leave in two days to allow him time to make preparations for his trainees, and further to allow Remington to take care of any final details.