Chapter Nineteen
The sun had not yet completely risen when Royce escorted Gillian to the meadow behind the abbey. Throngs of people had already gathered, all eager to watch the execution of the Welsh prince. The scaffold faced the covered dais where most of the court waited.
Parliament had not taken long to convict Dafydd for his crimes. The sentence of death was to be carried out immediately. Gillian prayed this would be quick.
She was glad she'd not broken her fast this morn.
When she'd awoken, with a terrible rolling in her stomach, she had refused any food, sipping only some ale to try to settle herself.
It had helped for a while, but now, sitting here near the king's seat waiting to watch a man be put to death had started the rolling anew.
The excited murmurs in the crowd grew louder. Edward and Eleanor rode up to the dais amidst the cheers of their subjects. Edward took a stance before his chair and held up his hands to silence the cheers of the people. It took several minutes for the crowd to quiet enough for the king to speak.
"Today is a glorious day for England, for she stands victorious against those who seek to destroy her.
The tongue of man can scarcely recount the evil deeds committed by the Welsh against our progenitors, but God has, after the prince had been slain, destined Dafydd as the last survivor of the family of traitors, to be the king's prisoner after he had been captured by men of his own race. "
With those words, the crowd once more burst into wild cheers and hollers.
Almost instantly, the crowd parted and several horses rode into view. At the center of the corps, a riderless horse was led. To her horror, Gillian saw the horse pulled a small load, a man, tied by his hands to the horse's harness. Prince Dafydd of Wales.
The horse was held still for several moments.
A knight stepped forward and mounted the beast, spurring it to a trot toward the scaffold, dragging Dafydd behind him.
Jeers and curses filled the square, and a member of the crowd below threw something at the prince, yelling obscenities so all could hear.
Soon, the throng pelted him with rotten food and refuse until the horse stopped at the scaffold steps.
The animal, clearly spooked by the chaos, pranced nervously under the hands of the knight.
The executioner stepped forward and raised his hand for silence. The crowd quieted. The horse calmed somewhat as the executioner began to speak.
"Prince Dafydd, in a trial by Parliament, you have been judged guilty for the crimes of murder, for profaning the week of our Lord's passion, and for plotting against the life of our sovereign, His Majesty, King Edward. You will be held as an example to all those who would stand in your place."
The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts of encouragement. Shuddering, Gillian wondered how the crowd would react if they knew of her mixed blood. She wrapped her arms around herself and pushed the thought aside. She glanced at her husband. His face bore no expression as he watched the scene below.
Dafydd was cut loose, hauled to his feet and dragged up the steps to the platform.
Despite the dirt and streaks of blood and refuse covering him, he held himself defiantly, watching the crowd.
Gillian saw no fear in him as he stood tall, facing his punishment with regal bearing and grace.
She could not help admiring his bravery in the face of death.
When the time came, she feared she would not meet her own demise so well.
The prisoner turned his gaze toward the dais, his lips curved ever so slightly in a mocking smile and nodded to Edward.
Royce's sharp intake of breath at the blatant disrespect in Dafydd's gesture vibrated through her.
Against her side, his hand curled into a fist. Keeping her eyes focused on the prisoner, she reached out and took her husband's hand in hers, loosening his fingers and twining them with her own.
He closed his eyes briefly then bestowed a small but concerned smile.
"Are you unwell?"
Startled, she shook her head. "Why?"
His brow furrowed. "You look pale."
"I am tired, my lord."
"When we are finished, you are to return to our chamber to rest. Parliament will meet again and I must attend."
She gave a nod, once more focusing her attention below.
The crowd jeered the prisoner, yet the taunts seemed not to dim his spirit.
One of the guards yanked on his arm, leading him to the waiting noose.
A hanging then. It would be over soon and she could rest, as her husband wished.
Then the executioner began to speak, forcing her to focus on what was happening before her.
"For such despicable crimes, you are to be drawn and quartered!"
Gasps and murmurings, shouts and applause, came from the crowd. Such a brutal sentence hadn't been passed in many years. She met Royce's gaze. Had he known of this? Why hadn't he warned her?
She looked past her husband to the king. Edward wore a pleased smile. A shiver passed over her. If he hadn't been convinced of her innocence in the uprising, she feared what could have happened.
She squeezed Royce's hand for support.
***
The force of Gillian's grip nearly crushed Royce's fingers. He watched her closely, still displeased at the lack of color in her cheeks. She looked ready to swoon. He motioned to Burnell. The chancellor approached, his face etched with concern. "Panther, is your wife ill?"
"She is unused to such things as this." He absently waved his hand at the crowd. "Perhaps some ale will help settle her."
Burnell nodded and motioned to a nearby attendant.
Within moments, he handed Royce a cup. As he held it to his wife's lips, Royce's gaze met hers.
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her lips trembled slightly as she sipped the ale.
Jesu, she could wound him so deeply with just a look!
How he wished he could take her away from here.
He looked away, sensing Edward's gaze on him. Gillian's hand had resumed its death grip on his. He pulled his fingers free and covered her hand, trying to soothe her with soft caresses.
"Is anything amiss, Panther?" Edward asked.
"Nay, Sire. Gillian is merely tired."
At the king's nod, he turned back to his wife. She sipped the ale slowly. He noted how her gaze moved everywhere within the meadow, except to the scaffold below.
With a deep breath, he focused his attention on the execution. Though he was glad the traitor was getting the justice due him, he disliked Edward's punishment. The death was slow and painful, and difficult to watch.
"My lord, I..."
He covered her mouth with his fingers. "Give none cause to think you bear sympathy for this outlaw. Rumor has already harmed you before."
Her eyes sparked at the reminder. "Thank you for believing they lied. If you hadn't..."
"It's behind us, and now is the perfect time to ensure none ever doubt you again. Difficult as it may be, you must appear to be pleased with the... this."
"It won't be easy."
He shook his head. "Nay. Not for any of us."
The warmth of the autumn sun grew as Dafydd was publicly tortured.
Not once did he utter a sound, accepting his punishment in stony silence, not responding to the executioner's or the crowd's taunts and verbal jibes.
Throughout it all, Gillian inched slowly closer to Royce until she leaned into him.
Her wide eyes and trembling gave away her distress.
He wondered if he'd ever be able to pry her fingers from his.
The crowd's yells and murmurings grew quieter as Dafydd was lifted to a cross-shaped table on the gallows, his ankles and wrists bound firmly. He heaved against the ropes binding him, but could not free himself. The final part of the execution was moments away.
As the executioner approached the prisoner, hot poker in hand, Gillian turned her face into his chest. He did not force her to watch, but she turned back once, just as Dafydd gave a scream that curled the hairs on the nape of his neck.
Royce heard her moan and looked down at her.
Her eyes widened before she sagged limply against him in a faint.
She almost slipped from her chair before he caught her. Someone pressed a cloth doused in vinegar into his hand and he held it under her nose. She stirred and pushed his hand away. Her eyes slowly opened, their violet depths filled with horror.
"Is it over?"
"Almost." He helped her back into the chair.
She shook wildly, and he slid his arm around her, holding her near.
She buried her face against his shoulder.
He held her, stroking her hair softly. Every time Dafydd screamed his agony, she jerked as though she could feel the traitor's pain.
Edward glanced over at her from time to time but thankfully said nothing.
"'Tis almost over, Wildcat." Royce murmured the words against her ear. "Soon we'll return to our chamber."
"I don't know if I can wait much longer. I feel ill."
"Don't look anymore."
He cupped her head, shielding her view of Dafydd's final moments. The executioner lifted his axe, the crowd now eerily silent. The only sounds echoing in the meadow were Dafydd's cries of pain. The axe fell. The cries ceased.
The still crowd erupted into wild cheers.
But there was still more, as the executioner quartered the prince's body to the mob's excited screams. Madness overtook the throng and many rushed the scaffold, fighting to get at the pieces of the body.
Edward apparently had also noticed, for he dispatched several troops into the chaos, hoping to calm things.
Royce set Gillian away from him, his gaze traveling her face. A tear rolled down her cheek. He reached up and brushed it away. He needed to get her away from here.
"'Tis over."
She nodded in reply to his words. Slowly, she stood, extricating herself from his embrace.
He reached for her, determined to keep her from seeing the gruesome display on the platform below, but he wasn't quick enough.
She gasped and swayed uneasily on her feet.
He reached for her as she fell back against him.
"Gillian, come, let's..."
"I'm going to be sick."
She bent and retched at his feet. He supported her head and shoulders until the spasms passed, then lifted her into his arms.
"Panther, why did not you tell us your wife was ill?" Edward questioned him as he got to his feet.
"She was not ere now, Sire. I am afraid the execution was... difficult to watch."
"Our apologies for insisting on her presence," said Eleanor. "Mayhap a rest will help her feel better."
"I will take her to our chamber immediately."
He carried her off the dais, ignoring the questioning glances directed their way.
The crowd finally began to disperse, blocking his path.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he ducked into the castle through a side doorway, pausing to set Gillian on her feet.
She swayed slightly, then leaned against him, her cheek pressed against his chest.
"'Twas more horrible than anything I have seen before." Her shaky voice cut through him like an icy wind.
"Come, let us retire."
He guided her through the maze of corridors and rooms until they climbed the stairs that led to their chamber. Once inside, he closed and barred the door.
Gillian walked over to the bed and lay across it.
"Are you ill?"
She shook her head. "Just... I was very tired this morning, and the execution..."
"It's over. Parliament will resume on the morrow instead, and after that, we travel to London with Edward."
Gillian sat up, dismay curling her mouth down. "London? I had hoped to return to Lyndon. There is much to prepare for the winter ahead."
He inhaled sharply. He supposed she needn't accompany them to London, but the thought of being away from her left him oddly unhappy.
Had he grown so fond of his bride that he now would cater to her whims?
Nay! The very idea was laughable. Still, if he convinced Edward to travel ahead of the queen, Royce could escort Gillian to her home and return to her much more quickly than traveling with a royal train.
"Mayhap you won't need to go. I'll speak with the king. We will be very busy and I won't be able to watch over you as you will likely need."
He couldn't resist the jest, pleased when she smiled in recognition. While he enjoyed the rebellious antics of his wife, he found he also rather liked this easy rapport between them.
"You accuse me of being trouble?"
She rose and stood before him, her violet eyes piercing.
"Since the day I arrived at Lyndon. You try my patience endlessly."
"As you do mine. My lord."
Her eyes sparkled with laughter. He grinned.
"Cheeky wench."
Before she responded, he took her mouth, wrapping his arms tight around her and lowering her to the bed once again.