Chapter Sixteen #5
Creed nodded, thinking of his brother and what Ryton would say to all of this. The man always had an answer. But Ryton was dead at the hands of Jory and there was no answer to be found.…
Or was there?
Creed looked at the earl. “If the king is going to kill me regardless, then perhaps… perhaps he would be satisfied if I was killed in the attempt to capture me. Perhaps he would be satisfied to be presented with my body.”
Richard’s brow furrowed. “Your body?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?”
Creed’s mind was working furiously as he looked at Denys. “If you were to bring a body back and tell the king that it was me, do you think he would be satisfied?”
De La Londe scratched his head. “He knows you on sight. He will want to see the body and he will know right away if it is not you.”
Creed searched for a solution to that issue. “But what if the body was damaged somehow? Perhaps the face was obliterated. It could easily happen in a sword fight, for example, if I were to resist you.”
“Or it could have happened in the battle at Hexham.” They all turned to look at Galen as the man stepped forward. He was following Creed’s train of thought and took it a step further. “We lost many men in that battle, including your brother.”
Creed’s eyes narrowed as he tried to follow Galen’s line of thought. “What are you saying?”
Galen cleared his throat softly, his gaze moving between Creed and the earl. “We have many bodies from that battle,” he said quietly. “Suppose we produce one and send it on to London with de La Londe. It would be decayed beyond recognition and we would tell the king that it was you.”
Richard was the first to respond to the idea. “It could work,” he replied hopefully. “Yet we would have to find a man of Creed’s size and hair color. Do we know of any?”
Everyone was busy scratching their head in thought or mulling over a potential subject when Creed’s quiet voice suddenly filled the air.
“Jory,” he muttered.
The earl looked at him as if he could not believe his ears. “D’Eneas?”
Creed sighed faintly and looked at his wife, who was very much interested in the conversation now that it meant her husband was not going to turn himself over to the king. He smiled weakly at her and looked back at the earl.
“Aye; Jory,” he nodded, thinking of the decaying corpse now buried in Prudhoe’s cathedral because Baron Hawthorn, upon learning the circumstances of his son’s death, did not want the body returned to him.
“Although I am twice his size, when a man’s body has decomposed over the months, it is difficult to know just how big, or small, he truly was.
But our hair is the same color. If I was killed at Hexham those months ago, then it is possible that Jory’s body could pass for me. ”
Richard was interested and doubtful at the same time. “But his face… the king would recognize the features as not yours.”
Creed’s dusky blue eyes fixed on him. “I will take care of that,” he murmured vaguely. “For Ryton’s death, for all of the hurt and anguish he put me through, let him now save me. I will help him right the wrongs he cast against my brother and me.”
Richard sighed heavily and shook his head. “He would not like that in the least.”
De La Londe interrupted. “But what of the men I brought with me?” he wanted to know. “They have seen you, Creed. They will know that you were not killed at Hexham months ago.”
Creed’s gaze moved to the north end of the outer ward where several of the king’s troops were gathered. They were seasoned men, sworn to the king. He thought a moment before turning back to Denys.
“Unsheathe your sword and be prepared for a mock battle of epic proportions,” he muttered.
“By the time you and I are finished, out of their line of sight of course, they will know that you killed me in your attempt to capture me. The brutally destroyed corpse you present to the king will confirm it.”
De La Londe lifted his eyebrows. “It will be a stretch. The corpse we will present to the king will be months old as opposed to weeks old.”
“I know. But we will do our best to be convincing in every aspect.”
“It may not work.”
“It will if you are convincing. How badly do you want your wife back?”
He had a point. As Denys digested the plan and worked it through in his own mind, Massimo, having remained largely silent through the conversation, interrupted.
“Am I to understand you will send a corpse back to the king and tell him that it is Sir Creed?” he demanded.
The men in nodded to varying degrees. Massimo lifted his eyebrows at the scheming group. “And you are going to disfigure the face of the corpse so the king will not be able to recognize that it is, in fact, not Sir Creed?” he wanted to make sure he understood.
Again, everyone nodded; especially Richard. Massimo frowned fiercely. “I cannot condone the desecration of a body no matter what the reason.”
Before Creed could answer, Carington let go of her husband and moved to the priest. All attention was on her as she put her soft hands on his arm, her emerald eyes glittering.
Now, she was composed and prepared to help her husband any way she could.
They had a plan; they needed everyone’s cooperation to make it work. Massimo would have to be convinced.
“Let me tell ye what kind of man Jory d’Eneas was and then if ye still wish to protest, I’ll not fight ye,” she glanced over her shoulder at her husband.
“Finish yer plans, English. I will have a little talk with the priest on how Jory is doing posthumous penance for the sins he has committed against ye in life. I believe he will see our point of view.”
Creed smiled as he watched her walk away with Massimo, her delicious figure as it swayed beneath the yellow gown. He had never loved her more than he did at that moment, his heart swelling with emotions and gratitude that he could never find the proper words to express.
Not surprisingly, Massimo was eventually agreeable to the plans for Jory’s rotting flesh.
Exhumed and sent to London with de La Londe, King John was not entirely convinced that it was Creed but rethought his position when the fifty men at arms that had witnessed most of the battle between de La Londe and de Reyne confirmed the story.
No one had seen the death blow, that was true, but they had seen most of the battle. And it had been a brutal one.
Therefore, Jory d’Eneas accomplished something in death that he would have never given consent to in life. He saved the man who killed him.
He saved Creed.