Chapter 20
London
The Royal Palace of Westminster
Gray stood surrounded by guards in the great chamber of King Henry’s Court, forcing himself to remain still as he waited for Catherine to be brought in. The hours had been endless, every minute torture since he’d last seen her on the day of his arrest nearly two weeks ago.
Disbelieving as they were, the soldiers had finally placed her into custody along with him for Eduard’s murder; they’d had no choice after she’d stood like an avenging warrior queen over Montford’s body and made her bold statement to the captain.
And so they’d brought her to London too, to let the royal inquiry sort out the mess of their sworn confessions.
Since then, Gray had been consumed with worry over her, driven by a fierce desire to see her and know that she was all right.
But his inquisitors hadn’t allowed it. Instead, he’d faced their questions.
Days of endless interrogation, sometimes for many hours, without food, drink or sleep.
It could have been worse, he knew; they could have used some of their more infamous means of torture on him in their quest for the truth.
He was grateful that they hadn’t and prayed that it meant Catherine had been spared as well.
Through it all, he’d done his best to convince them of his guilt, of his action alone in the murder of his hated rival.
’Twas the only possible conclusion, he’d told them, and they’d listened carefully to his explanations, sometimes scribbling notes, other times just observing him.
Day after day, he’d stayed true to his story, relentless in his will to convince them.
Today he would learn if he’d succeeded.
At last the door at the back of the massive chamber creaked open. All of the more than three score guards, knights, nobles and ladies filling the room craned their necks to see the second prisoner brought forth.
Catherine walked steadily between her guards, head held high.
Gray felt a stab of relief; she looked unharmed.
Even the bruises from Eduard’s abuse had mostly faded.
Her steps only faltered once, and that was at the moment she met his gaze.
In that instant, her emotions shone on her face; intense longing and a love for him so powerful that it seemed almost otherworldly spilled from her, lighting her with that angelic radiance that took his breath away.
Vaguely, Gray heard the murmurs of the people in court who saw it as well.
But his entire focus stayed on Catherine.
All he wanted was to touch her, to hold her, to love her, and it took every ounce of his strength not to leap over the benches and people separating them to carry her from this place and never let go.
Before he could act on his impulse, he saw her breathe deep and direct her gaze firmly ahead. Then she took her place in court, standing with her guards only twenty paces away from him.
Following the line of her vision, Gray started.
King Henry had entered the chamber previously; now he sat motionless on his dais, his stare hard and penetrating as he looked at them both.
But the row of royal councilors sitting at long tables to either side of him leaned into each other, whispering behind their hands as they glared at Catherine.
Only at Catherine.
The hair prickled on the back of Gray’s scalp. Their expressions were filled with hatred, their mumbled comments malicious.
“Man-killer,” he heard one of them mutter.
“Liar,” murmured another, shaking his head.
A third scowled and formed a soundless, damning curse into the ear of the man next to him. “Witch.”
Sweet God in heaven…
Bile rose in Gray’s throat as he gazed from the councilors to the woman he loved and then back again. He felt their malice rippling toward her in an evil, oppressive tide.
Nay…
Oh, God, he’d failed to convince them. He’d failed her. They’d already tried and convicted her in their minds; he could hear their verdict as plainly as if it had been proclaimed aloud in the chamber.
Because she is a woman, a shadowy voice hissed from deep in his brain. Aye, he wanted to shout. A beautiful, strong, courageous woman who had fought back and killed the wretch who was abusing her.
But Catherine’s words to him on that day he’d first suggested training her to fight returned in the shadow voice to haunt him now and forced him to silence.
“Under English law a woman cannot take arms against a man.”
“In the act of protecting oneself, ’tis allowed,” he’d replied blithely.
“And yet many women have been punished for daring to do just that, especially to men bearing title…”
Oh God…
Catherine seemed unaware of the darkness, the slithering contempt these men harbored against her. She stood there unsuspecting of the danger, the death waiting for her if she continued to claim guilt in Eduard’s murder.
Almost against his will, Gray’s gaze flew to the grim-faced Court official shuffling a pile of parchments to the left of the king.
’Twas Lord Webster, the sour old man who’d come to his cell daily to observe the interrogations.
Once he found the document he was seeking, the man would be called to speak.
There was no doubt that he would bring forth the Council’s judgement against Catherine in front of everyone assembled here.
And then it would be too late.
At that moment Gray knew that he had to stop this in any way he could. He had to stop these men, before they brought down their wrath on Catherine’s innocent head.
“Your Highness!” he called, throwing himself forward. More than a dozen soldiers in orange tunics lowered their spears at him, while his guards grabbed frantically at his arms to hold him back.
He struggled to shake them off, yelling, “Your Highness, I cast myself on your mercy and publicly claim open and clear disobedience to you, as well as full responsibility in the murder of my sworn rival, Eduard de Montford!”
The Court erupted into chaos, but Gray shouted over it, forcing himself to avoid Catherine’s stricken stare. “I surrender myself to your judgement and penalty, great king, and ask only that you release this woman, who is innocent of any wrongdoing in—”
“Nay! ’Tis not true!” Catherine cried. Spectators lurched to their feet, engrossed in the drama, and the clamor of voices rose.
“He bears no fault in this!” Catherine called above the din. “’Tis I who killed Lord Montford! I alone who bear guilt in—”
“Enough!” the king roared. His command cut through the furor, bringing everyone to a reluctant hush. He stood and glared at the assembly. Dark anticipation seethed through the chamber, curling about everyone’s ankles, alive and snakelike.
“In all of Our years as sovereign,” Henry grated, his face stiff with fury, “We have never been subjected to the kind of frenzy engendered this day by the two of you, each stubbornly clinging to a confession of guilt in the same villainous crime. We are almost tempted to order both of your foolish heads struck off for it!”
Renewed gasps and murmurs echoed through the chamber, but the king continued, undaunted in his anger.
Placing both of his hands on the table in front of him, he leaned forward to speak deliberately, succinctly.
“However, as England is a civilized nation, We prefer not to execute the innocent alongside the guilty.”
Gray made a move to speak again, but Henry held up his hand, his fingers so rigid that they appeared made of stone. Stepping back, Gray clenched his jaw and waited, deciding that it would be in Catherine’s best interest for him to obey for now.
“Lord Montford was one of Our most powerful nobles,” the king said fiercely.
“A seasoned warrior and champion. And regardless of what part he may have played in this affair—a part that he is forever deprived from defending himself against, We remind you—We do not take his murder or his loss to the Crown lightly.”
Gray gritted his teeth, but the king continued, glaring at him. “Nor do We accept the constant and blatant disobedience of you, Lord Camville, Our equally powerful and hitherto most favored High Champion. Your repeated defiance of Our sanctions speaks ill of your allegiance to Our authority.”
More whispers arose, increasing to a low buzz as the king next directed his harsh stare at Catherine. “And as for the deceits that it appears you have perpetrated, lady, We find that We have no words to express Our feelings of shock and dismay.”
She flushed and dropped her gaze. Henry’s expression softened a little, though he didn’t say more to her, directing his next words instead to the gathered assembly. “It is time to resolve this matter once and for all.”
He sat in a flourish of jeweled robes, making an irritated gesture with his hand toward Lord Webster at his left. “The Court Official will now present the Council’s findings to the assembly.”
Gray scowled at Lord Webster, trying to catch his gaze, but the man ignored him to stand and look round the chamber, obviously relishing his important role in these proceedings.
“We, the High Council,” he began in a nasal drone, “have come to several conclusions regarding the murder of Eduard de Montford and the events leading up to it.”
Gray saw at least five of the dozen men on either side of the king avert their gazes or look down. His chest tightened, and he strained at the guards holding him, wanting to stop this, to make them all see reason before it was too late.
“First, in response to the charge by Lord Camville that Lord Montford exercised abuses on Catherine de Montford in excess of that allowed by law as her guardian—no legal husband being present,” he directed a pointed glare at Gray, “we, the Council, find it to be unsubstantiated. In addition, we find that—”