Chapter 20 #2
“Unsubstantiated?” Gray growled in disbelief.
Rage slammed through him, and he lurched forward, blind to all else but the need to make this wretch admit the truth.
“You arrogant bastard,” he shouted. “Did you see her when she arrived here? Jesu, he’d beaten her near to death! What kind of proof do you need?”
Out of the chaos of the court chamber, four additional soldiers were forced to scramble to aid Gray’s guards in restraining him.
He was fighting like a madman to get to the now pale-faced and gaping Lord Webster, itching to do to the man what Montford had done to Catherine, to see then if he thought her injuries unsubstantiated.
Suddenly, something smashed into the back of his skull, and with a grunt he went down to his knees. Through the numbness that threatened to overtake him, he felt irons being clapped over his wrists, binding his hands together with thick chain.
“Lord Camville, you will govern yourself,” King Henry called over the noise in the court chamber.
Shaking the remaining stars from his vision, Gray pushed himself back to his feet, first glaring at the guard who’d dealt him the blow, then looking to the king.
Fury still clouded his mind, pulsing through him in heated waves, but even through it, he perceived a subtle change in his monarch.
He saw for the first time a glint of something, perhaps a kind of understanding, buried in Henry’s steely gaze.
When Gray turned to Catherine, however, what remained of his anger curdled in his gut.
She faced him, gazing at him with those solemn, sad eyes.
Like a tangible force, he felt the strength of her love wash over him.
It flowed to him in waves, mingled with the pain of watching him struggle.
Finally, she just breathed in and shook her head, her sapphire eyes brimming as she pleaded silently with him to be still, to let this day take its course.
Never! he wanted to shout. I will never allow them to blame you for killing Montford!
He felt consumed by panic, wanting to destroy everything, anyone that might harm her.
But before he could act, King Henry stood.
He waved Lord Webster back into his seat, and the man sank down gratefully, his sweat-beaded face ashen, his eyes sunken as he fixed them on Gray.
The king spoke, his voice firm. “We did not wish to involve others in our quest for the truth this day, but it seems that We are left with no choice.”
He looked to the sentries at the rear doors of the chamber. “Bring forth the two remaining witnesses!”
Gray’s stomach lurched when he realized whom the king meant.
He glanced again at Catherine, who’d blanched even milkier than she’d been a few moments ago.
She gazed at him, eyes vulnerable, wounded by this latest blow.
She seemed ready to topple over, and he tried to go to her, only to be yanked back none too gently by his guards, who pressed a blade to his back to keep him still.
When the doors opened, she tore her gaze from his to look there, pressing her palm to her heart and making a sound that was half joyful sob, half moan.
Isabel and Ian walked carefully into the chamber between the sentries, clutching each other’s hands, their eyes wide and faces serious.
When they caught sight of their mother, they broke into smiles and went running to her, much to the chagrin of their guards, who began to chase after them, stopping only when the king waved his hand against it.
Gray’s own eyes stung as Catherine embraced her children, and the court fell silent for the first time that afternoon, the only sound her muffled crying as she held them tight.
After a moment King Henry cleared his throat.
“Lady Catherine,” he called. She looked up, her expression stiffening as she straightened.
At his nod, she turned the twins to face him and nudged them forward.
“Pay your respects to King Henry, children,” she murmured, and they shuffled closer, Isabel dropping into an awkward curtsey and Ian offering a wobbly bow.
The king nodded as if the gestures were executed to perfection, though several of the unpopular foreign advisors with whom he insisted on surrounding himself had the daring to snicker.
Casting a sharp look at them, Henry stepped down from the dais.
He looked to one of the court scribes to learn the twins’ names before walking to place himself in front of the children.
“Ian, Isabel,” he said, as gently as Gray had ever heard him speak, “do you know why you have been brought before this Council and your king?”
Ian took a deep breath, wearing an expression of awe as he took in the impressive sight of King Henry, from his masterful height, to his heavy golden crown and jewel-encrusted cape.
Clamping his lips tight, the little boy shook his head.
Isabel swallowed and darted a glance at her mother, before attempting to answer the sovereign.
“Is it to win our Mummy home again?” she asked tremulously.
Sympathetic murmurs rippled through the assembly, and the king looked as dismayed as if he’d just stepped into a steaming dunghill with his bare feet. “Nay, lass,” he finally managed to say. “’Tis to help Us to understand what happened the day that your dear Uncle was killed.”
“He wasn’t dear,” Ian said with a snort, finding his voice at last. “He was horrid to us and to Mummy. More than ever on that last day.”
Swiveling his head, Ian looked at Gray. “That knight was with us too,” he said, before addressing Gray directly, his little face wrinkling into a man-sized scowl, “And I believe you to be a good man, sir knight, for trying to help us escape my uncle. Yet ’tis only fair to tell you that if you intend to hurt my mother like Uncle Eduard and my Father did, then as her only champion, I shall have to challenge you to prevent it. ”
A few titters mixed in with the renewed murmuring that arose from the crowd, causing the king to raise his hand again.
Gray’s belly felt hollow as he looked at the lad, standing so small and defiant in defense of his mother.
What must these innocent children think of men and their brutality if their only real reference came from knowing Eduard and his equally cruel brother?
“Fear not, young Ian,” Gray answered, loudly enough for everyone to hear him. “I will never harm your mother. And while there is breath in my body, I vow that I’ll not allow any other to harm her again either. Never again.”
“That will be all, Lord Camville.” Henry’s tone was quiet but no less menacing. “Not another word from you, lest We be forced to remove you altogether from this chamber.”
Gray forced himself to bite back a retort; he breathed deep and willed his temper in check, knowing as he did the deadly consequences of tweaking the Royal Lion’s tail further at this point.
A few tense moments passed. The king’s gaze remained hard on him, but eventually, his continued silence seemed to satisfy.
Henry returned his attention to the twins.
“You understand, children,” he said, “that you are under solemn oath as loyal subjects to Us and thence to God, to share what you know of the day your uncle died, or of any other day, should it be asked of you.”
Ian and Isabel didn’t answer, only gazing at their sovereign solemnly before swallowing hard and nodding.
Henry stared down at them. “We are asking you now. Who was it that killed your Uncle Eduard?”
Gray felt every muscle in his body tense as he waited for the children’s answer. Tell them it was me, his heart raged silently. Tell them I killed the bastard.
Isabel looked like she was going to cry; she clasped her hands in front of herself and turned to her brother. He gazed back at her, clenching his jaw mutinously. Then he shook his head to show that he would not speak.
“But we promised Mummy,” she whispered, a single tear spilling down her cheek. “We promised always to tell the truth.”
“Not this time.” Ian’s small hands fisted at his sides. “I’m not saying anything. Not unless Mummy tells me I have to.”
As if on signal, both of the children turned their heads to look at their mother. Catherine met their gazes; a calm, peaceful look crossed her features…
And at that moment Gray knew all was lost.
“Mummy?” Isabel asked, her voice choked with tears.
“Ah, my sweethearts. How I love you both,” Catherine murmured, her eyes welling as she tried to smile for them. “But you were right, darling. You must do as I’ve always taught you. Tell King Henry the truth.”
Gray’s stomach clenched and his heart beat shallow.
His gaze locked with Catherine’s as Isabel clasped her brother’s hand, faced the king, and finally said, “Mummy said I have to say it, so I will. She’s the one who killed Uncle Eduard.
He ran at her, and she stabbed him in the chest with that other knight’s sword. ”
“Aye, it was Mummy,” Ian agreed, his gaze downcast.
The chamber erupted into chaos at the children’s proclamation; Gray wanted to roar with pain when Catherine mouthed the words, “I love you,” to him, silent tears spilling down her face as the guards began to lead her from the tumult surrounding them.
King Henry resumed the dais, and the rest of the royal council stood. He and several of the others looked unsettled by what had just transpired, but he refused to meet Gray’s gaze as he prepared to lead his cabinet of advisors out of the room.
“We will retire in private for sentencing!” one of the Court Officials announced.
As if from a great distance, Gray felt someone click the lock on his manacles.
A guard murmured, “You are free to go,” and then Gray’s hands fell limp to his sides.
His breath rasped harsh in his ears, his vision cluttered with a myriad of colors and images as he gazed first at Catherine, then the king, then at the twins and the crowd that was moving en mass to the doors at the back of the chamber.