Chapter Eleven
Gillian stopped at the foot of the stairs.
She'd summoned Simon almost an hour ago.
He should be here by now. She spotted Royce seated with Burke at the head of the table.
Her husband looked up and caught her gaze.
Her body warmed at the affection she found in his stare.
Worried he might go back on his word faded.
Simon would be permitted to stay, even to help.
She walked to her husband, her gaze darting to Burke.
She'd not spoken much with the captain, but knew him to be efficient at keeping the men ready for Royce's orders.
She caught his gaze and an uneasy tremor passed over her.
Again, she detected the coldness in his eyes.
The thin line of his lips gave him a menacing look.
Yet, he merely nodded courteously. Nothing unseemly; as always, he remained properly polite and respectful.
Still, a foreboding shiver ran along her spine.
"Good morn, my lady."
"Burke." She turned to Royce, shaking off her musings. "My lord."
Her reward was a warm smile from her husband. Her stomach gave an odd little flutter when he indicated she should sit beside him. She did, assailed by a shiver of giddy delight when he took her hand and kissed the back.
"I trust you slept well?"
"Like a babe." She had, once she'd finally drifted off. So heavily did she slumber, she hadn't felt him rise and leave her.
He placed a trencher of cheese and porridge before her. "Eat. You need to recover your strength."
Her cheeks heated and she focused her attention on breaking her fast.
She'd nearly finished when footsteps drew her attention. Simon approached the table, concern lined into his face. He gave a bow toward Royce, a nod to Burke and a glance at Gillian.
"Good morn, Simon. We must talk." Royce took a long drink of ale from the flagon before replacing it on the table.
"About what, my lord?"
Her brother sent a questioning glance her way. She tried to reassure him with a smile, unsure if she succeeded.
"Burke, leave us. The king will want to interrogate the rebels shortly."
"Aye." Burked faced her once again. "My lady."
This time, Gillian noted an unmistakable lust flickering in Burke's eyes before he concealed it. She shuddered, grateful when he turned away and strode toward the lower chambers.
"I know of your parentage. Gillian told me last night." Royce's voice, low and deep, drew her out of the troublesome thoughts. Simon turned to her. She'd never seen such anger spark in his eyes.
"We agreed." His words croaked out between clenched teeth.
"I know, but –"
Royce cut in. "I made her tell me. Fear not, you are welcome at Lyndon and always will be. In fact, we will require your assistance during the search for the rebels."
Simon shifted uneasily and looked between Royce and Gillian. She stood.
"'Tis true I had no choice. But trust him. You have nothing to worry about anymore. Trust me."
"I don't know what to make of this. I... thank you, my lord."
"You will continue your role as my wife's guard. I trust you'll keep her safe and protect her as you must."
Gillian caught the stern stare Royce fixed on her brother. The words left unspoken promised a gruesome retribution if Simon should fail.
"Of course. I would lay down my life for her."
Simon's voice rang true and strong as he made the vow. He gave Gillian a smile. All would be well.
***
Royce, with Burke at his side, awaited Edward's arrival in the lower chambers.
The two rebels remained bound in the tiny room.
Though they were injured, and weak, having not eaten since their capture, they still glared at Royce with defiance.
He wondered how long they would last under Edward's interrogation.
The king entered, as always, his trusted advisor Burnell right behind him. He paused and quietly gave the other man some instructions. Burnell left the room to carry out his sire's wishes.
"These are the only ones you captured who survived?"
"Aye. The third died of his wounds but did tell of the intentions behind the raid."
Edward stalked over to the two Welshmen and kicked one of their legs. "You will die for your foolish daring. Have you anything to confess before you are hanged?"
"Godwin will win the day! We'll tell you nothing!" The scruffier of the two shouted the words.
Edward drew back and punched the man square in the face. Blood spurted and the rebel howled in pain. Edward turned to the other.
"Do you wish to add anything to your dead comrade's words? He was quite eager to speak, from what I'm told, once he realized he would soon face God's judgment."
"Lyndon is not England's. It never has been." The man focused a steady stare at Royce.
"Look to your own, Panther. The wife you gained is not who you think."
Now it was Royce's turn to clench his fists. He too two steps toward the rebel. Edward halted him.
"Hear what he has to say first, Panther."
"He dares claim my wife is a traitor!"
"I would hear what he will say!"
The anger tightening Edward's face left Royce alarmed. Did the king believe the lies? He stepped back and Edward turned his attention to the rebel.
"You are either very stupid or very brave. No matter, you will tell what you know."
The rebel smirked. "Will it save me from the noose?"
"No." Edward spat the word out.
Royce wanted to shout with frustration. The rebel lied. Didn't he? Doubts he thought he'd dismissed rose again, much stronger than he wished.
"Then, I'll tell nothing."
Edward studied the rebel thoughtfully. "Oh, you will. Before we hang you, you will beg to tell us all you know. Both of you."
The terror in each man's eyes flared anew. Finally, the second rebel nodded.
"Very well. I'll tell you."
The first Welshman tried to protest, but choked on his words, a combination of desperation and likely blood as well, from his broken nose. The second silenced him with a nudge of his foot.
"Fear not, Igmar. I take great pleasure in telling the Panther his bride has been passing secrets to us for years. Now the king knows those he trusts most have made him a laughingstock!"
Edward gave Royce a curious glance. The suspicions in the king's eyes sparked a new round of worry. Did he believe the pronouncement? Royce didn't, not entirely, and it took all of his control to contain his rage.
"I know lies when I hear them." Edward nodded to Burke. "Fetch lard and stoke that fire. Where are the stocks?"
Royce stood back as Burke and the other the guards prepared. They dragged the Welshman toward the hearth, where the flames had been coaxed higher. With quick movements, they fastened his legs into the stocks, his feet exposed and about a cubit from the hearth. Another guard returned with the lard.
"How long do you think he'll last before he tells us all we need?" Royce asked.
"Not long at all." Edward folded his arms. "Rebels such as he are quite brave until we use a little persuasion."
Burke removed the rebel's boots and set about smearing the lard on his feet.
The Welshman tried to slide away, but held between the stocks and another guard, had no chance of escape.
Together Burke and the guards pushed the rebel closer to the fire.
His harsh protests and pleas for mercy echoed in the room.
Edward held up a hand. "Will you tell all now?"
The rebel looked back toward his companion. Royce scowled to see the other man shake his head.
"Nay, I will not help you any further."
Yet the fear in the man's eyes betrayed the lie. He kept silent only on the encouragement of the other. Royce found himself anxious to hear the confession but more than anything else, he wanted to know if the man spoke the truth about Gillian.
"Very well." Edward motioned to Burke, who pulled the man closer to the flames. The rebel screamed and tried to fight back, but was no match for Burke and the guards, who soon positioned both lard-smeared feet against the flames.
The screams echoing in the room hurt Royce's ears. For several minutes, Burke held the captive in place, then gave the signal to pull him back. The Welshman collapsed limply to the floor. The smell of burned flesh knotted Royce's stomach.
"We will continue until you tell me where I can find Godwin and who has been aiding them."
The outlaw remained silent, unwilling or unable to speak. Edward motioned to Burke and the screams began anew.
***
"Could I have been wrong about William?"
Edward didn't wait for an answer, forcing Royce to follow down the narrow corridor. The rebel had lost consciousness before saying anything useful. Edward decreed they would try again. In the meantime, he wanted the other rebel hanged. Immediately.
The king continued to speak. "His wife was Welsh, distantly related to Llewellyn and his brothers. William said she'd been renounced by her family, and she's been dead for many years, but..."
"As you know, Sire, I have had doubts about Gillian myself. I will continue to work to learn the truth. She has always claimed innocence, but she's also kept many secrets."
Were there more? He couldn't be sure. He gave a moment's consideration to sharing what he'd learned from Gillian, about the truth of her mother's ancestry. Would the revelation of additional lies help, or make things worse? Edward's next words extinguished the idea.
"And if we learn she is indeed a traitor? You know what must be done."
Royce understood the king's meaning clearly.
The thought of his wife executed left him cold, but if he discovered she had indeed betrayed England, he would not hesitate to hand her over.
An image of her on the ramparts, bow in hand, calmed his worry.
If she meant harm to England, she would have killed him.
Instead, she'd saved his life. Her actions spoke more than any monk could record in his lifetime.
"She defended Lyndon, Sire, and saved my life during the raid."
Edward nodded. "'Twould seem to indicate she is innocent."