Chapter Thirty-One - The Wife
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Wife
ROSAMUND TURNED TO face her friend, tears in her eyes.
Dressed as elegantly as usual, with one difference.
She had made no attempt to cover the bruises on her arms and neck.
Her eye, still purple was not hidden behind makeup or a veil, her burst lip not covered in lipstick.
Her head was held high as she walked forwards, the click of her stick on the small stone tiles barely audible over the rise of whispers in the room.
Most sat shocked, many hid their faces behind their fans as they whispered to their neighbour, their eyes wide with astonishment at what they saw.
She tore her gaze away from her friend to look at each of the Prince’s.
There was not one among them that did not look either shocked, concerned, disappointed or disgusted.
She had expected another outburst from Bastian, but there was nothing.
He was frozen, his body crumpled in on itself as he looked at his wife.
The devastation written across his face.
Elswyth leaned heavily on Emrys’ arm as she walked. Rosamund rushed towards her, holding her own arm out as Emrys stepped to the side. The older woman gripped it tightly, and leaned in close, “thank you, for your letter. For…everything.”
“I’m the one that should be thanking you,” said Rosamund quietly as she helped the woman forwards, “are you ready?”
“No,” she confessed, “but I think with you here, I will be.”
Rosamund nodded and did not let go.
Lady Elswyth looked up at the Queen, “forgive my lateness your majesty, but I have evidence that I wish to provide to the court.”
The Queen struggled to keep the shock away from her own face as she regarded Lady Elswyth and her injuries, she only nodded for her to continue.
Sir Corvin stepped forward but Elswyth held her hand up to stop him.
There would be no questions, only her words.
Even the Crown Clerk was stunned into silence and made no objection.
Not even Bastian moved to stop her. He only watched her; a growing despair in his eyes.
As she spoke, there was no warmth in her tone, no forgiveness. Only the truth of her words.
“I can confirm that over our many years together my husband has plunged our household, our district and our region into debt. Should you be in any doubt of that then I can provide the evidence.”
Her servant rushed forward with a tower of books which he handed to the clerks, “a record of every debt owed since the day we were married. Every coin from my dowry, from the people of the Velvet Tide, poured into the gambling houses and brothels of the city.”
The servant returned with further books, “I also include the bribes paid to Lords to say they had seen Prince Dorian with the Darnwells. To torturers to elicit confessions. All promissory notes that my husband would only make good on once Prince Dorian’s lands were his.”
She stood in silence as these books were passed from the Queen to the Princes’ for review, though few spent any time reading them. Their attention was fully on Elswyth, hers was on Bastian. He could not look at her, his face turned away, hidden behind his hand.
Look at her. Look what you have done.
“This in isolation should be everything you need to understand that my husband would take any opportunity to ruin his brothers. To claim their fortune as his own, to fuel his own desires,” said Elswyth.
For the first time Rosamund heard the hitch in her voice. She held her arm tighter.
“The Darnwell’s acted on their own. Dorian had no involvement with their foolish scheme and stood to gain nothing from it,” said Elswyth, “my husband, however, would gain a great deal with the death of Prince Dorian. And I know better than most how far my husband will go to get what he wants.”
He looked to her now, tears in his eyes, pleading, and Rosamund saw him whisper to her, “what we want.”
Elswyth did not look away from him, but Rosamund could tell it took everything she had not too.
To stand there and face down the man who had abused her for years.
Who had told her he loved her and beaten her day and night.
Who had told her he was doing it all for her, for a child, and taking out his failures on her.
“This is what happens when my husband does not get what he wants,” said Elswyth as she gestured to herself, “this is what he is prepared to do to someone he loves. What do you think he would do to a brother he despises?”
Bastian hid his face once more as the Crown Clerk rose reluctantly to his feet, his eyes darting between Bastian and his wife, “your…your highness. It…it gives me no pleasure to ask, but…how…how can we be sure that these injuries were sustained by Prince Bastian?”
The tension rose, and the Crown Clerk looked as if he wished for the ground to swallow him.
There was a shift in the room as there was a murmuring of agreement.
With a growing rage she could feel the Lords in the room begin to doubt Elswyth’s word.
Rosamund felt the woman beside her hesitate, felt the beginning of crumbling within her.
Even now, standing before them, would they not believe her? Would they not trust her?
“Elswyth is a royal princess,” said Rosamund through gritted teeth, staring down the Clerk, “you would doubt her word?”
“Without proof then how may we-?”
Rosamund had been about to step forward when she heard someone cry out, “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen him hurt her.”
“I saw it too!”
Marianne shook where she stood, her eyes nervously darting around the room, her hands in closed fists at her side.
“She, she tried to hide it but…but I knew,” said Marianne, her own voice cracking, “it was him. She’s telling the truth.”
Silence filled the room.
Then Isolde stood, “I saw him shake her violently at our summer ball. Just one of many times. We’ve all seen it,” she gestured to the other wives, “haven’t we?”
To Rosamund’s surprise, it was Lavinia that rose next, “I’ve been seeing those ugly purple marks for years. And Elswyth is far too frigid to have taken a lover, so I can only assume it was her husband.”
Though Rosamund bristled at the manner of her support, she was surprised that she had said anything at all. The skinny red head still had that ever present bored look on her face, but there was something in the way the woman glanced at Elswyth that was different.
Celeste and Seraphine rose as one.
“Our silence on this has only ever been out of respect for our sister,” said Celeste, “for the upset it would cause her if it were known.”
“For fear for her life,” added Seraphine, “but we have seen it.”
“Far too many times,” said Celeste, her expression betraying the guilt she felt.
“Will you believe her now?” asked Rosamund, rounding on the clerk before turning to the Prince’s, “will you believe her? Or will you call your own wives liars?”
She could see each of them considering her words, glancing at where their own wives now stood, and then back at the woman in front of them.
“Every charge that Prince Bastian has laid at his brother’s feet is a lie,” Rosamund pressed, “everything was for his own gain, his own pursuit of power. And as you see now, he will do anything to gain that power. Which of you would be next do you think?”
The Queen let the words echo around the chamber before she spoke, “Thank you for your testimony, Princess Elswyth. Please, if you are able, join your sisters in the royal box.”
With difficulty, Elswyth curtsied once more and Rosamund helped her up the stairs.
The people of the gallery watched her closely as she passed.
She waited for the whispers, the quiet jibes and snide jokes, but there were none.
Elswyth collapsed onto the bench beside Isolde, who immediately swept her into an embrace as Queen raised her hand and silence fell.
“Each of you have heard the evidence presented today, we ask you now, when you are ready to make your judgement, to declare if you believe Prince Dorian Mordane is guilty or innocent of the charge of Treason,” she looked to each of them in turn, “given the nature of the charge, should any of you be in any doubt, and return a verdict of guilty then Prince Dorian will be sentenced.”
Rosamund’s blood ran cold. She had thought they need only convince most princes, not all. Even with Bastian broken as he was, all it would take would be his vote to condemn Dorian.
The Queen’s gaze fell on Bastian, “However, due to evidence heard, we have decided that the right of judgement will be removed from Prince Bastian. It is clear that you are not of sound mind, nor can you be trusted at present with such matters. You may remain to hear sentence, but you will not pass judgement.”
Bastian did not respond; his head and face hidden in his hands. Even now his brothers could not bring themselves to look at him.
“The court will sit until all Prince’s have declared. You may begin.”
Before the silence could fall Aurelian was the first to stand, and in a clear voice declared, “Innocent.”
The Prince leapt down the stairs to stand beside his brother, placing one of his hands briefly on Dorian’s shoulder before turning to the others. The silence stretched out. No one dared move. No one dared breathe. Rosamund felt Marianne grasp her other hand.
“In-innocent.”
Marianne let out a gasp of joy, clamping her hand over her mouth as Osric stood and took his place beside Aurelian.
He still looked nervously at Dorian, but the two exchanged a brief nod before the silence fell again.
The people in the gallery began to whisper now, quite hisses that popped up around the room and petered out just as quick.
There was the shuffling of feet, the swish of clothes being fidgeted with. Until eventually.
“Innocent.”