Chapter Twenty
From despair one moment to joy the next, the entire group of de Moray and du Bonne knights were awash with smiles of relief as several knights clad in the crimson and gold of the royal house poured into the grand hall.
The noise of their armor pierced the air as the presence of powerful men filled the musty room.
“Are those truly Henry’s men?” Summer was still clinging to her husband’s massive arm, her eyes wide with amazement.
Bose made eye-contact with Olav and, once again, a rare smile crossed his face. “Indeed they are, my love,” he gripped her hand tightly as the room filled with warriors in gleaming protection and well-clad royal men-at-arms.
Olav passed before Lord Bruce with nary a glance to the astonished magistrate; the knight’s attention was focused on his former captain. Immediately, he extended a gauntleted hand in greeting.
“My lord de Moray,” he said with true warmth. “We came as soon as we were able. A crazy priest, claiming relation to you, came spouting tales of your criminal activities and we thought it wise to heed his wild stories. Was he wrong?”
Bose maintained his smile, returning the man’s affable greeting. As the gist of Olav’s declaration sank deep, he slowly shook his head.
“Dag,” he muttered as if the revelation did not overly astound him. “So my cousin rode to London, did he? I wondered why he did not see my wife and me off from Salisbury.”
“Most likely because he was determined to save your life,” Olav was grinning.
“He spent two days in London pleading your case to Henry before our king grew weary of the man’s ramblings and agreed to intervene if only to shut him up.
We could not convince Dag to come to Dorset, though.
His priestly duties forced him to return to Salisbury, but he demanded we inform him of the outcome of your trial.
In fact, I would assume that is the situation at hand? ”
Bose nodded. “You’ve arrived just in time. Another hour and you might have found me in pieces.”
“You came,” Summer could not keep the awe from her voice as she spoke to the knight she had not yet been introduced to. “You truly came!”
Olav directed his smile to her, bowing in a graceful gesture. “For Sir Bose, there is nothing we would not do,” he continued to scrutinize her closely, politely. “The Lady de Moray, I am to assume?”
“Astute as always, my friend,” Bose muttered drolly, clutching Summer’s hand tightly. “The very reason I am facing the block.”
Olav cocked an eyebrow, his eyes lingering on Summer in an appraising manner a moment longer.
“Well worth the gamble, my lord,” behind the lady, familiar faces caught his attention and he found himself gazing into the pleasant expressions of men he had known very well, long ago.
His eyes glittered with warmth. “God’s Blood, is that motley crew still hanging about?
Morgan, I thought you would be dead by now. ”
Morgan grinned. “I shall live to dance on your grave, Olav.”
Olav snorted, preparing to insult his former squire, Tate, when more commotion at the entrance to the hall captured his attention.
Small and wiry amongst the large armored knights surrounding him, Henry III entered the room in his usual aloof manner, ignoring the vassals and servants who immediately dropped to their knees before him in startled reverence.
Bose’s eyes glittered as he studied the man intently. “God’s Beard,” he breathed, his surprise evident. “He came.”
Olav watched the king emerge into the smoky chamber. “You were his favorite knight, Bose. Do you truly believe he would stay away during this time of crisis?”
Bose shook his head feebly, unsure how to answer, when Olav gestured the man forward. “Come along,” he said quietly. “Our king has ridden all the way from London and is anxious to see you.”
Bose did not release Summer as he followed the knight who held his former position.
Pulled toward the small man lingering in the center of the room, Summer could scarcely believe her eyes; not only had Duncan returned, but he had returned with the king himself and she fought to control her shock as Bose guided her close to the king.
A king who was focused on Bose as if witnessing the return of an old, dear friend. His young face creased with a genuine smile as the massive knight and his lady fair bowed respectfully before him.
“Stand and face me, Bose,” he said benevolently, his eyes reacquainting himself with the man who had once been his friend and Household Captain. “I see that we have arrived just in time to prevent your untimely demise.”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” Bose’s baritone voice was warm. “I did not expect to be fortunate enough to warrant your appearance.”
A reddish-blond eyebrow rose. “And why not? You seem to have involved yourself in a serious situation and I am apparently the only person capable of saving you,” tearing his gaze away from Bose, he focused on the red-cheeked lady by his side. “Your wife, I presume?”
Bose nodded, presenting Summer to the king. “The Lady Summer du Bonne de Moray, Your Grace.”
Summer bowed again, her knees shaking so terribly that she was afraid she would collapse. But she managed to right herself somewhat steadily, keeping her eyes properly lowered in the presence of young Henry.
He studied her carefully for a moment. “Very fine, Bose,” turning away, he seemed distracted and fatigued by the circumstance and was eager to move forward. “All pleasantries aside, tell me who is presiding over your trial?”
Bose gestured toward Lord Bruce. “The Marquis of Cerne, Your Grace, the Lord Bruce Eggardon. He has been impartial so far.”
Henry moved purposefully to Lord Bruce who, caught completely off-guard by the king’s unexpected appearance, folded himself in a proper bow. When the marquis met the king’s intense gaze, the older man’s upper lip was slick with perspiration.
“Your Grace, we are… honored by your presence,” he stammered.
Henry regarded him silently, once again turning to Bose. “And who is this man that would accuse you of stealing his bride?”
Bose tilted his head in Breck’s direction. “That man. Sir Breck Kerry.”
Summer had never seen anything but arrogance and determination on Breck’s ugly features. At this moment, however, he looked terrified as the King of England brought him to focus. Pale and agitated, he bowed swiftly for the monarch’s benefit.
Henry’s expression was hard on the red-haired knight. “Approach me.”
Like an obedient dog, Breck did as he was told. Standing before the king, he could feel the angry stares of the silent household knights surrounding them. He kept his gaze lowered as the king spoke.
“You have brought charges against the former captain of my Household Guard,” Henry’s voice was controlled. “By what right do you make these slanderous claims?”
Breck swallowed, his usually cocky demeanor vanished. “His wife is betrothed to me, Your Grace,” he said hoarsely. “She was to be mine before….”
“She was pledged to Bose before you convinced her father to break his word and betroth her to you,” Henry motioned to a group of men standing off to his right. A few of the royal advisors shifted, moved aside, to reveal a tall young man with golden red hair within their midst.
Breck’s eyes widened at the sight of his brother. “Duncan!”
The youngest Kerry brother nodded coolly.
“I have told him everything, Breck,” he said quietly.
“He knows of your evil plans. He knows the only reason you solicited a betrothal for the lady was to seek vengeance on Sir Bose, and he further knows that the only reason you are going forward with this foolish trial is to see de Moray completely destroyed.”
Breck’s jaw went slack with astonishment, his composure completely destroyed with the realization of his brother’s apparent treachery. “You… you are my brother, for God’s sake. How could you turn against me like this?”
“Because you are wrong,” Duncan said, no longer fearing his brother’s retribution.
“The Kerry name used to stand for strength and respect years ago, before you received your spurs and began to destroy the family reputation. Father and grandfather spent their lives establishing a powerful honor which you have endeavored to shatter. I am ashamed of you and I’ll not tolerate your corruption any longer.
For the sake of our heritage, I cannot.”
Breck stared at him. “So you would betray me simply because you do not agree with my ideals?”
“I do not agree with your morals or your ideals,” Duncan was growing increasingly passionate.
“I have stood by as you’ve disabled honorable knights with your sly tournament tactics, or spread rumors that have shattered the reputation or marriages of those we’ve come to know through the circuit.
But no longer; this will end now, brother.
It will end now before any further damage is done. ”
Breck could scarcely believe what he was hearing; the concept of his brother’s betrayal was nearly too much to comprehend and as he opened his mouth to refute the treacherous man, the very servant he had sent to claim the critical betrothal contract abruptly returned to the hall.
Holding the scroll high above his head, the green and yellow garbed attendant made his way through the sea of knights and vassals in an attempt to reach his liege.
“Here it is,” Breck’s sharp mannerisms were bordering on madness as he seized the vellum from the servant’s clammy palm. “This will vindicate me and prove that my charges are not false. Bose stole my bride and this piece of parchment shall prove it!”
Henry reached out and snatched the contract from the agitated knight, examining the rolled parchment carefully.
“The betrothal contract between my wife and Sir Breck,” Bose explained quietly.