Chapter Twenty #2
Henry nodded in understanding, removing the bindings and unrolling the fine yellow hide.
The room seemed to quiet abruptly, Breck included, as Henry slowly read the contents of the missive.
As the tension mounted, the deafening silence was nearly overwhelming, and Bose could feel Summer trembling within his grasp.
His hold on her tightened and he waited, with bated breath, for Henry to absorb the contents.
After a small eternity, Henry finally raised his eyes, glancing to the serious expressions around him.
“Where is her father?”
Before Bose could reply, Edward was on his feet with Margot directly behind him.
“I am the lady’s father, Your Grace,” his voice sounded feeble.
Henry caught sight of the frail, thin woman lingering behind the pallid-faced earl, recognizing her to be Bose’s former mother-in-law.
He remembered the vicious, screeching woman who had marred her daughter’s funeral with her hysterics.
Puzzled but not particularly surprised to discover she was at Chaldon, aligned with the opposition against her deceased daughter’s husband, he simply shook his head.
The situation involving Bose’s trial was growing in unexpected ways and he was frankly too exhausted to pursue the woman’s presence.
Shifting his focus to the baron, he met the man’s polite reply. “Am I to understand that this written contract came after you broke your orated pledge of marriage with Sir Bose?”
Edward visibly paled. “I…I am told, Your Grace, that I verbally consented to a betrothal between my daughter and Sir Bose. But I had imbibed a good deal of wine that night and it is difficult for me to remember what, precisely, happened.”
Henry gazed headily at the man, obviously displeased. “Then you are denying any such promise?”
“I cannot deny or confirm what I do not remember, Your Grace.”
After a continued moment of scrutiny, Henry once again looked to the parchment in his hands. “But there was a witness to this pledge. Your own son, I am told.”
“My sons have turned against me, Your Grace. As much as I am ashamed to admit the fact, they would most likely say or do anything to support Sir Bose’s cause.”
“Then you are saying, in essence, that your own son has conspired with Sir Bose in an attempt to convince you that in your drunken state, you pledged your daughter in marriage to de Moray?”
Edward shrugged uncomfortably, torn between Margot’s silent insistence and his sons’ angry expressions. “I am suggesting nothing, Your Grace. But the possibilities are obvious.”
Henry sighed with disgust, knowing the laws of ethics and standards would demand the baron’s word be considered over the views of two lesser-stationed knights.
If Bose said the man had verbally sanctioned a betrothal contract between the mighty knight and his only daughter then, in fact, Henry believed his former captain without question.
But the truth remained that Edward, by station, would expect to have the consensus of belief over a mere knight.
A slow burn of irritation began to take flight, fed by the king’s exhaustion. Looking to Edward, he could hardly keep the contempt from his voice.
“Are you lying to me?”
Edward swallowed hard, feeling Margot’s hand on his arm in a supportive, demanding gesture. “Nay, Your Grace. It was never… but I simply cannot remember giving the knight my verbal approval.”
Henry’s thin jaw ticked. “And you fully realize that the court is obligated to believe you over the testimony of two lesser knights.”
Edward nodded unsteadily, his jowls quivering like great loaves of fat. “Indeed… it is expected, Your Grace.”
The king stared at the rotund man a moment longer before emitting a heavy sigh. “You realize what you are endeavoring to create, do you not? You are preparing to sentence an innocent man to his doom with your less than truthful reply.”
Edward averted his gaze, lacking the words to form a proper response.
As he stammered for a reply, Henry’s irritation seemed to cool.
Regardless of the baron’s fabrication, he was cognizant of what needed to be done.
Even if Lord du Bonne was intent to play him for a simpleton with his evasive replies, Henry refused to concede the game.
He knew how to win. Extending the unrolled missive to Olav, he cast the man a single directive.
“Burn it.”
Edward’s expression slackened as Breck’s eyes threatened to spring from their very sockets.
“You cannot!” Breck’s face was red with emotion. “The missive is my property and I’ll not…!”
The crowd was distended, rumbling with tension as Henry moved toward the irate knight, surrounded by his household protectors. They were seasoned men who had little tolerance for those who would defame their king. Henry openly studied the challenger of his royal honor.
“Do you disagree with my actions, Sir Breck?” he asked, a red eyebrow cocked questioningly. “Pray, are they as unjust and unscrupulous as your own?”
Breck’s lips worked, spittle forming on the edges. “The… the church has endorsed the betrothal, Your Grace,” he hissed, struggling to recover his last vanishing remnants of control. “You cannot simply burn it as if it never existed. There are those who have….”
“Witnessed it?” Henry’s tone was patronizing.
“As Sir Ian witnessed Lord Edward’s verbal sanction?
As we have all seen, Lord Edward has denied making any such commitment.
And because he is of ranking nobility, it is expressly understood that his word be believed above the testimony of two honorable knights.
And I say that if I burn this ill-gotten betrothal, it has never existed.
And, being king, I retain the right to be believed above the testimony of all. ”
No one dared say a word. Olav and several other household knights watched the betrothal missive burn to ash as Henry maintained a steady gaze on the three individuals who had been driven to destroy his former captain. His rage and vengeance was ripe.
“These charges against de Moray were foolish from the onset,” his soft-pitched voice was a growl.
“I was forced to set aside my royal duties and travel two days in the saddle to vindicate my former captain from a trio of vipers I would just as soon quash. My patience is severely stretched by your conniving scheme and I will hear no more of these plots. If I ever again catch word of betrayal or spite against de Moray, my wrath shall be swift and painful. Do I make myself clear?”
Edward, as pasty as tallow, managed to nod faintly. “I… I was merely attempting to protect my daughter, Your Grace. Sir Bose is known to have killed his wife and….”
“Did you take this woman’s clouded word over the truth of the circumstance?
” Henry would not allow him to finish his sentence, gesturing toward Margot; although visibly demurred, Margot met the king’s gaze with her usual haughty resolve and Henry smiled, a thin and hateful gesture.
“Bose de Moray’s wife died in childbirth, pure and simple.
And as a result, he left my service in order to flee the memories associated with his position. Is that clear enough?”
Edward had heard that explanation before, many a time, but he had allowed Margot’s venom to cloud his mind until her truth was the only reality he was able to comprehend.
Hearing the recount of facts from the king’s own mouth, however, brought the subject to bear and he sighed heavily, turning unsteadily from the young monarch.
The verity of the truthful circumstance somehow drained his strength until he could scarcely support himself.
Settling heavily in the nearest chair, Edward du Bonne, Baron Lulworth, was left to ponder what course his feeble mind and weak will had brought about.
He had ruined the honor and trust of his own family.
He had destroyed his life. The du Bonne honor he had been so zealous in protecting was now in ruins.
Henry’s attention was drawn from the dejected baron as Breck loomed before him, his lanky body twitching with fury.
The smoke from the cindered betrothal contract was strong upon the stale air, reminding the occupants of the room with every breath of the swift justice served.
And none more so than Breck as he endeavored, one last time, to summon his confidence.
“The Church will have something to say about this, your grace,” he said in a low, hazardous tone. “You are attempting to play God by interfering in the church’s business. And it must not be tolerated.”
Henry cocked an eyebrow. “God’s Blood, you truly are a fool. Your statement sounds very much like a threat.”
“It was indeed a threat, My King,” Olav was suddenly between the two men, his massive hands gripping Breck by the arms. “All who threatened the king are immediately imprisoned and sentenced for treason. Is this not so, Bose?”
Until this moment, Bose had refrained from direct involvement in the dialogue as much as he was able; in truth, he was still reeling from the swiftness of the king’s decisive deed and could do nothing more than hold Summer against him, struggling to absorb the truth of his monarch’s actions.
But gazing to Breck Kerry within Olav’s mighty grasp, he knew well the advantage of ridding himself of a man who had been a mere hair’s breadth away from destroying him.
If only to protect Summer from the man’s evil once and for all, Bose knew he had to be rid of him.
“Indeed,” his baritone voice was commanding. “All who threaten our good King Henry must meet with the unavoidable consequences.”
Roughly grasped by several Household Guards, Breck struggled furiously. “I never… I did not threaten him! I am innocent!”
“Just as Bose was innocent of thievery?” Henry pressed. “How terrible it is to be wrongly accused. I suspect you do not appreciate it, either.”