Chapter Twenty-Nine #6
The night was warm and he took her to the battlements looking north, facing Warminster and the Vale of White Horse. There were few soldiers on that portion of the wall and he stroked her hair as she gazed out over the moonlit land.
“I am sorry you cannot take the babes,” he said softly.
She shrugged. “I will miss them. How long do you think we will be in London?”
“As long as it takes,” he leaned on the ledge next to her, resting on his elbows as she was. They looked at each other a moment until she looked away sadly. He continued to look at her.
“I told de Tormo we would meet after sup. We should go and find him.”
“No need,” de Tormo came out of the shadows, strolling across the battlement. “I thought we could talk out here, enjoying the evening.”
The priest rested against the ledge, gazing up at the moon. Remington caught a whiff of his odor and edged closer to Gaston, who put his arm around her.
“You know of the basics, de Tormo, so I will not repeat them,” Gaston said, to the point.
“Little has changed since you left London, except for a particular meeting Henry and I had with Bourchier and the papal legate. Apparently, the council was leaning toward a rejection of the plea and I felt I had to resort to desperate measures. I told them that Stoneley worshipped the devil, and they are now eager to hear testimony from the both of you supporting my allegation.”
De Tormo nodded calmly. “I am prepared. Did you go into any specifics?”
“No. I was vague, mentioning the pentagram and the skin-covered books but naught else.”
The priest nodded again. “I see. As I will only be able to testify to those as well,” he looked at Remington. “It would seem the details would have to come from you, Remi, as his wife.”
Gaston stiffened and Remington put out a hand to calm him. De Tormo had inadvertently referred to her as Guy’s wife, which she was, but Gaston did not like to hear the term used in that context. He did not like to be reminded of it.
“What details?” she asked.
“Details of the room, I suppose,” de Tormo eyed Gaston with a silent apology for his slip. “Do you have any knowledge of devil worship?”
“No,” she insisted, slighted.
He put up his hand supplicatingly. “I did not mean to insinuate anything, as you know. I simply meant to know if you had ever read anything, or heard anything.”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
The priest thought a moment. “I could tell you several things, but I have a better idea,” he looked at the two of them.
“It will make your testimony far more compelling if your sisters were to testify to support your statements. Mayhap we should gather them together and prepare one story. One story that we will all memorize until we know it better than we know our own name.”
Remington looked to Gaston for his approval; he looked intrigued. “A simple story that will stand up under cross-examination?”
“Absolutely,” de Tormo said firmly. “Nothing terribly detailed, but enough to lead the council to their own conclusions.”
Remington was torn between hope and reluctance. “Must my sisters be pulled into this?”
De Tormo looked to Gaston. “We must do what is necessary, angel,” Gaston said quietly. “And we must trust the priest in this matter. He knows far more than we.”
She nodded faintly. “If you say so.”
Gaston enfolded her in both arms, fixing his gaze on the de Tormo. “Gather the flock then, priest. We shall meet you in the solar in an hour.”
Remington watched de Tormo walk down the battlement. “Guy will deny everything, Gaston. ’Twill be our word against his.”
“And he has already proven himself to be difficult and noncommittal, and the council is aware of his characteristics. Our story will work. It must, else there will be no annulment.”
She shuddered involuntarily. “And if it does work? What will happen to Guy, a proven devil-worshiper?”
“He will be executed, most likely.”
She thought a moment. “And what of Dane? Surely it will get around that his father was executed for devil-worship. It will reflect badly on him.”
“It will be forgotten,” Gaston assured her quietly. “Believe me, it will pass in time and people will see him for his great skill and forget about his long-dead father.”
She sighed. “I worry for him.”
“Do not,” Gaston turned her around to face him, a smile on his lips. “You worry overly for your children, angel. From what de Vere has told me, Dane will be promoted from page to squire come his birthday in August. John says Dane is the best page he has, next to Trenton, of course.”
“He is?” she asked, her mood lightening. “I am so glad to hear that.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and led her toward the narrow stairs leading to the courtyard. “John also says he had grown considerably. The other pages look to him as their leader.”
She bristled with pride. “Truly? But what of Trenton?”
Gaston shrugged, helping her take the top stair. “He acts at Dane’s side. Trenton was never much of a leader, really. More of a follower.”
She gathered her surcoat, taking the stairs carefully. He was directly behind her, taking her hand as they strolled back across the bailey. Above them, the moon was bright and somewhere in the still night air, a night bird sang sweetly.