True Love, page 28
“Royce and I, at different times, have both intercepted letters that prove the charge,” Braedon said. “I believe Royce is carrying the letters with him, to offer as indisputable proof. Royce decided to allow Achard to court Lady Catherine in hope of gaining his full confidence, so he could learn who were Achard's accomplices, and gather proof against them, too.”
“Achard attempted to rape me.” Catherine spoke up boldly, not mincing words as she seized the opportunity to show Braedon as courageous and honest. “Sir Braedon's timely arrival prevented Achard from completing his wicked deed. Later, Achard abducted me when he thought my father was dead, and he locked me in the dungeon at Wortham, where I stayed until Sir Braedon rescued me a second time.”
Bit by bit the events of the Whitsuntide festival were told, with Catherine, Aldis, and Gwendolyn all adding their parts. They had been warned by Royce not to mention Achard's death until he was ready to reveal it, and so none of them spoke of it.
“These are my conclusions,” Royce said to the king when the tale was ended. “Achard was in grave need of Catherine's large dowry, but that wasn't all he coveted. He believed that if I were dead, you would appoint him as chief of your private agents. Achard was delighted when he thought Braedon had stabbed me, for that deed eliminated the problem of how Achard was going to kill me while appearing innocent of my death.
“As your most important agent, Achard expected to be ideally situated to pass information to King Louis of France,” Royce continued, “and to pass false information to you from Louis. Nor do I doubt that he would have reversed the process if it served his ambition, and given you true information that he had from Louis, while he sent falsehoods to Louis from you.”
“Achard and Phelan conspired together,” Braedon added to Royce's summation, “with Eustace as a willing accomplice. The three of them met in secret at Wortham fair, and they met again later, inside Wortham Castle. But I think Phelan and Achard suspected each other of duplicity. Each man was certainly working for his own ends.”
“If Achard has told you this, he is lying,” Phelan shouted. “He and I are friends, that is all. Bring Achard into this room and let him tell his side of the story. He will bear me out.”
“It was my impression,” Braedon said to Phelan with a hint of amusement in his voice, “that you and Achard were in competition to determine who was in charge of your conspiracy.”
“This is preposterous!” Phelan said to the king.
“Braedon,” Henry said, “where is Achard? From all I've heard, I assume he is one of your prisoners.”
Braedon sent a quick look toward Royce. Receiving an abrupt nod in response, he revealed the final pieces of the sorry tale.
“Achard tried to escape,” Braedon answered the king. “He injured one of Royce's men-at-arms, and then he attacked me with a stolen sword. I killed him, my lord. Achard is dead.”
“I don't believe you!” Phelan yelled, straining against his chains.
“When he lay dying,” Braedon went on, “I asked Achard about a few details of his scheme that Royce and I had not yet confirmed. Achard admitted to everything, including the participation of Phelan and Eustace. When I asked why he had done it, he whispered with almost his last breath that kings can be made to pay for important information.”
In the silence that followed Braedon's speech Phelan collapsed like a bladder with the air let out of it, folding in upon himself, all the blustering assurance gone. As for Eustace, he looked from his father to Braedon with an expression of helpless confusion, and offered not one word of his usual surly intransigence.
“Well, Lord Phelan?” the king said into the somber quiet. “What response can you possibly make to these charges that will not brand you a traitor to me?”
“I will tell you what I know.” Phelan sounded like a man completely broken. “Every word that Royce and Braedon have spoken is true. Achard has been acting as King Louis' agent, as well as your spy.”
“How do you know this?” King Henry asked.
“Achard told me. He tried to recruit me and my son to help him,” Phelan said, reviving enough to offer his frequently repeated claim to glory. “Achard said I was valuable to him because I am so closely related to Royce. My daughter is married to Royce's son, you see.”
“I am aware of your daughter's marriage,” Henry said with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, “and aware also of the use you have made of that alliance. The plain fact is, Phelan, you conspired with Achard against me.”
“No, my lord.” Phelan's chained hands shook as he extended them toward the king. “It is just that I am deeply concerned, as are many other of your noblemen, about the question of who will follow you as ruler of England and Normandy. All men die eventually, my lord, and kings more than most men must take thought to what will happen after they are gone from this life.”
“Indeed.” King Henry folded his arms, looking solemn. “Do you imagine that I have not given thought to the matter?”
“N-no, my lord,” Phelan answered.
“Do you think I have not discussed with my trusted councilors what ought to be done in regard to choosing an heir?”
“Of course, my lord, but honest men want to be reassured that there will not be war when you – when you—”
“When I die,” King Henry finished for him. “It's true, Phelan, honest men are concerned. But you are not an honest man. Nor is your son.”
“My lord, Eustace and I have both sworn fealty to you,” Phelan protested.
“I know exactly what your oaths mean,” Henry said. He took a long breath and drew himself up. “This is my judgment.
“Phelan, your lands in Sutton, and your estate in Normandy are hereby confiscated, to be held in trust by the crown until I choose to bestow them elsewhere. I include in this judgment the manor that is Eustace's holding from his late mother.”
“But, how shall we live without land?” Phelan cried, while Eustace stared as if he could not believe what he was hearing.
“You will have no need of land,” Henry said sternly, “for you will be gone from England, and from Normandy, as quickly as possible. Royce's men-at-arms will conduct you to the nearest seaport. From there you will be placed on board a ship and sent into permanent exile.”
“Exile?” Phelan repeated, as if he was unable to comprehend what the king was saying. “How? Where?”
“I care not where or how,” Henry answered him, “so long as you never return to any of the lands I rule. If it's advice you want, then I suggest you undertake a humble pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to atone for your many sins.”
“But, my lord, this is not right,” Eustace cried.
“It is fairer treatment than you deserve,” Henry said in a hard voice. “Excuse it how you will, both of you have betrayed your oaths of fealty to me. I do not require your lives from you for the very reason you have used so often to your own advantage: because you are closely related by marriage to Royce of Wortham, who is my true friend.
“Take them away,” Henry commanded the men-at-arms. “I want them out of my sight.” He stood silently until Phelan, Eustace, and their guards were gone.
“A sorry business,” Henry said, “but I thank all of you here for your honest work in my behalf. I will not forget what you have done. Royce, is that the end of your report?”
“No, my lord,” Royce said. “I have another matter to bring to your attention.”
Chapter 20
“With your permission,” Royce said to King Henry, “I would like to present a lady to you.”
“Very well.” Henry looked puzzled, but relieved to have the dreadful business of traitors and double agents over and done with.
“He must mean Lady Edith,” Aldis whispered from behind Catherine's shoulder. “Oh, Catherine, he is going to marry her.”
“I'm afraid you are right,” Catherine whispered back.
Royce left the room, returning a few moments later with Lady Edith. Her fingers rested lightly upon his wrist, her chin was held high, and a proud and happy smile played upon her lips.
Directly behind her came the tall lady whom Catherine had seen earlier and thought she knew. The mysterious woman stayed quietly near the door, as if she did not want to be noticed, though she nodded politely when Catherine's eyes met hers.
Meanwhile, Lady Edith was taking note of all the people in the room, and her smile deepened. She swept into a graceful curtsey before the king, then stood at Royce's side, looking pleased.
“Well, well,” said King Henry, smiling back at the lovely young widow as if he guessed what was to come, “what have we here, Royce?”
“What we have, my lord,” said Royce, “is one of the cruelest, most cold-hearted murderers and traitors in all of your realms.”
“What?” Lady Edith snatched her hand away from Royce's and took a step backward. “Royce, is this some sorry joke? Or have you gone mad?”
“Explain yourself, Royce,” King Henry ordered.
“This is the person who entered my bedchamber at Wortham for the purpose of putting poison into my wine,” Royce said. “Achard stole the hellebore from Braedon's room. He passed it to Lady Edith, who slipped it into my cup while she was attempting to seduce me.”
“You defame me!” Lady Edith cried.
“I have not yet told the half of it. My lord king, Lady Edith has long been Achard's lover and accomplice.”
Royce made the shocking announcement in a tone so deadly that Catherine, hearing him, was chilled to her bones.
“Sire,” Lady Edith said, quickly regaining her composure, “I pray you, stop this madman. I refuse to be subjected to his scurrilous lies.”
“Peace, madam. Let him speak,” King Henry said.
“As I have already recounted, Achard's scheme was to marry Catherine and thus acquire her dowry,” Royce explained. “But there was more, and worse, planned. With me dead and Achard in position as your most trusted agent, Catherine was to die next, possibly in childbirth, as happens to so many women. If my daughter did not die naturally, then Lady Edith was prepared to help her along the way to heaven with a dose of poison. For this lady is greatly skilled in the uses of many kinds of poison. Nor is she the flighty, silly creature she pretends to be. In fact, the clever mind and steely nerves behind much of Achard's success as a double agent was hers.”
“That is pure calumny,” Lady Edith exclaimed.
“Later, after a decent period of mourning for Catherine had been observed,” Royce continued, “if the word decent may be applied to anything this wicked pair planned to bring about, then Achard intended to marry Lady Edith. The two of them, traitors and murderers both, as wealthy and well-regarded nobles would be free to continue their spying for Louis of France.”
“It's a lie,” Lady Edith protested, though more weakly than before, as if she knew she could not prevail against the damning information Royce held against her. “Achard will deny it, too. Just ask him.”
“Ah, well, now,” Royce said, displaying an open malice that Catherine would not have credited him with if she had not heard it for herself, “Lady Edith, I fear I have neglected to inform you that Braedon has slain Achard. Your lover is dead. Your schemes are ended.”
Lady Edith went pale as parchment. She swayed as if she would faint, then steadied herself and stood quietly, awaiting King Henry's inevitable sentence on her.
“There is more to this affair,” Henry said. “I know you, Royce, and you are never deliberately cruel to any woman. What has Lady Edith done that you haven't told us yet?”
“You are right, my lord. There is still more to tell,” Royce said to Henry. “I am sure you will recall my conviction years ago that my wife did not die a natural death, and my vow that I would discover who had killed her. I now know that the murderer was Lady Edith. She escaped suspicion for so long because she was so young at the time that I overlooked her. It took another woman to comprehend the depth of Lady Edith's depravity.”
Royce turned and held out his hand to the woman who stood at the back of the room. She came forward to curtsey to the king.
“I know you,” Henry exclaimed. “Madeline of Dol, you have assisted Royce in the past.”
“I know you, too,” Catherine cried. “You were Mab, the fortune teller at Wortham fair.”
“And at other fairs, too, my lady,” Mab said with a smile. “A month before Wortham fair, I was in Sussex, where Lady Edith was born and raised, and there I acquired the proof that Lord Royce wanted. Later, at Wortham, I spoke with Lady Edith in my guise as a fortune teller. It is amazing what folk will say to a commoner who is only going to linger for a day or two. At Wortham I was able to put together the last details of a dreadful story.”
“Father,” Catherine exclaimed, stunned by what she was hearing, “you always told me that Mother died of a wasting illness while I was away from home, being fostered at Cliffmore Castle.”
“I wanted you to think so,” Royce said. “I believed it would be easier for you to think Avisa died that way, rather than that she was murdered.”
“Tell me you did not lie with Lady Edith, knowing she killed my mother,” Catherine cried.
“I never lay with her,” Royce said, adding in a cold tone, “I have learned to control my lust.”
“That is a pity,” said Lady Edith. “I could have enjoyed seducing you, Royce, but I see now there never was any chance of it happening. I suppose I may as well tell the truth. It will be a great change for me and it won't make any difference in my sentence, will it? Of course, I killed Avisa.”
“Why?” King Henry demanded. “What possible reason could you have had for such a wicked deed?”
“Avisa discovered that I had poisoned my older sister,” Lady Edith answered. “My father was a minor baron, with few lands, so there was dowry enough for only one daughter. I was to be sent away to a convent, though I protested often and loudly that I could make a great marriage if I but had the chance.”
“You killed your own sister so you could inherit her dowry?” Catherine cried, scarcely believing her ears.
“I did.” Lady Edith shrugged her shoulders as if murder was nothing very important to her.
“But, why did you poison my mother?” In Catherine's cry was all the grief of years spent without her beloved parent.
“It was necessary,” Lady Edith said. “My mother and yours were friends, and while Lady Avisa was visiting our home, she accidentally uncovered proof of what I had done to my sister. When she took me aside and accused me and then begged me to confess, I knew I had to kill her before she told my parents. She became very ill very quickly, and returned home to Wortham to die.”
“You are a monster,” King Henry declared. “I don't know what to do with you. I cannot send you to a convent; you are so evil you would corrupt the holiest of nuns. I want her chained and kept in a secure room,” he said to Royce's remaining men-at-arms. “Do not let her out of your sight, and allow her to speak to no one.”
“Madeline,” King Henry said to the erstwhile fortune teller, “like these honorable knights, you have once again served me, and justice, well. I do believe rewards are in order for all of you. Please do not leave Gloucester until we have spoken again.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Madeline curtsied.
“Oh, Father.” Catherine went into Royce's arms. “All these years you kept that terrible secret, and I never guessed. But why didn't you tell me what you suspected when Lady Edith first arrived at Wortham? I could have helped you to uncover her evil deeds.”
“I had already put you at too great a risk by allowing Achard to court you,” Royce said. “I decided to bring Edith here to Gloucester ahead of you and Achard, because I feared if she saw her lover in chains, she would know I suspected her, too, and she would do something unspeakable to you.”
“This is unbelievably horrible.” Catherine leaned against Royce, and Aldis came to put her arms around the two of them.
“At least it's all over now,” Aldis murmured, trying to comfort them. “We can go home to Wortham and be at peace together.”
“Not yet.” Royce freed himself from the tender embraces of his womenfolk and faced King Henry, who was looking as shocked and horrified as Catherine felt.
“My lord king,” Royce said. “I have one disagreeable but necessary duty left to me this day. With you as witness, I issue a challenge to Sir Braedon. He has once refused to fight me, but I insist. Hand to hand combat, to the death.”
No!” Catherine cried. “Please, no. After so much pain and trouble, how can you want to bring more distress to me, or to yourself?”
“Oh, don't,” wept Aldis. “My lord Royce, how can you be so hard-hearted, when Braedon is such a good man?”
“Stupid men,” Gwendolyn declared, facing Royce and the king with her hands balled into fists and held tightly down at her sides, as if she would use them on Royce if she didn't keep herself under tight control. “Not a bit of sense to be found in any man. You'd all destroy love for the sake of your foolish honor.”
“How true,” murmured Madeline with a sigh, and Gwendolyn sent an appreciative glance in her direction.
“All of you women, be quiet,” Royce admonished them.
“I begin to understand,” said the king after taking a long look at the women. “Braedon, what have you to say about the challenge Royce has issued?”
“I have already told Royce that I will not raise my hand against him,” Braedon said. “He knows why I refuse to meet him, but I want you to understand that my reason has nothing to do with fear of him.”
“No one who knows you could ever doubt your courage,” Henry said.
“Or his occasional surprising and unexpected good sense,” added the irrepressible Gwendolyn, grinning in unrepentant glee when the king cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I absolutely forbid any combat between Royce and Braedon,” Henry said, his tone and demeanor invoking all the power and influence of a respected king. “Dare I hope that we have completed this interview?” he asked, his gaze moving from Royce to Braedon, to the four women who were all standing close together, and finally on to Cadwallon and Desmond.
