‘Excuse me, Brother.’ Rowena dipped into a curtsy. ‘This lady is the Countess Barbara de Sainte-Colombe. I am her daughter, Lady Rowena.’
‘How may I help you?’
‘I understand that my father, Count Faramus de Sainte-Colombe, is meeting my godfather, the king, here. My husband, Sir Eric de Monfort, should be with them. We apologise for our tardiness, but we should like to join them.’
The monk folded his arms across his chest, and Rowena sensed that this man did not take well to being importuned by a woman.
‘My lady, I have no orders from His Grace about your arrival.’
‘Brother, we realise our arrival is unexpected and we apologise, but it is vital we speak to the king.’
‘You say King Louis is your godfather?’
‘Indeed he is.’ Rowena clasped her hands together and hoped she looked suitably meek. Suitably prayerful. She was prayerful, she was praying that the monk had not heard how she had married Eric to escape the cloisters. ‘Brother, I believe I have a right to be present at this conference. It is my marriage they are discussing. Please show us the way.’
* * *
The conference chamber wasn’t large. The king was sitting on a vast gilded chair resplendent with red cushions. Rowena was disturbed to see he looked as though he was sitting in judgement. She was aware of others in the chamber—her father and a handful of clerics and knights including, unfortunately, her cousin Sir Armand. Rowena smothered a groan. With her cousin present it was hard to see her way forward.
Her gaze was drawn to Eric. His eyes widened as she walked in and his expression seemed to soften as he inclined his head at her. ‘My lady.’
Rowena threw him a quick smile. With King Louis present, there was no time for more. Anger burned in her breast. It shouldn’t be Eric who was being questioned here, it should be Sir Armand. Her cousin should be made to answer for his actions and it looked as though she was going to have to persuade the king to arrest him. Praying for strength, Rowena focused on Eric and wondered what had already passed between him and the king.
Eric was standing in the light of a narrow lancet and she couldn’t help but see that he wasn’t armed. However, they were in a holy city and none of the other knights was bearing arms either. No one was under restraint. Yet.
Walking up to the king, Rowena lowered her head and sank into her deepest curtsy. ‘Your Grace, I beg you to forgive the intrusion, but I had to come.’
‘Lady Rowena.’
The king’s voice was questioning, as if he doubted the identity of the person kneeling before him. That didn’t seem like a good omen and Rowena dare not look up. Not yet. She stared at the king’s red leather boots and the gilded claw feet of his chair and prayed that he would soften towards her.
A white hand reached out, a ruby ring flashed as the king tilted her face up. ‘Lady Rowena, you may rise.’
Rowena straightened. ‘Thank you, Sire.’
The king’s eyebrow lifted as he looked pointedly at her clothes. ‘I have to say you have astounded me. I thought to see you next in the garb of a nun and here you are, a married lady.’
‘Your Grace, I—’
The king cut her off with a wave of his hand. ‘My lady, when we last corresponded you wrote most eloquently of your desire to take the veil. I was aware of your father’s displeasure—he was most anxious that you should marry—yet you insisted your calling was genuine. Ma dame, both your father and the man you currently call your husband insist that you are content in your marriage. You have made a fool of your king.’
The words the man you currently call your husband sounded like the death knell of her marriage. Rowena lowered her gaze to the king’s red boots. ‘Your Grace, that was never my intent. I can only apologise. I—’
Footsteps approached and another pair of boots walked into the edge of Rowena’s line of sight. She caught the swirl of a green, fur-lined cloak.
‘Your Grace.’ Eric’s voice was low. Calm. ‘I beg you to understand, Lady Rowena is not to blame. She is content now—’
‘Yes, I am,’ she put in quickly. ‘Very content.’
Eric took firm hold of her hand. ‘Rowena, if you would allow me. Your Grace, I abducted her. It is my fault that she did not become a novice, that she did not take the veil.’
More footsteps tramped up and Rowena saw a third pair of boots. Her father.
‘My liege, as we have explained, Eric was my household knight before he won the manor at Monfort. He abducted Rowena at my instigation. I am wholly to blame.’
‘No husband, you are not.’ Lady Barbara spoke from the doorway. ‘If you recall, we chose Eric for our daughter together.’
Lord Faramus harrumphed. ‘Woman, be silent.’
‘I will not.’ Lady Barbara’s skirts swept the tiles as she came up and sank into a curtsy. ‘Your Grace, I am as much to blame as my husband or Sir Eric.’
A slow handclap began. Sir Armand, standing among a group of knights and clerics in front of a large wooden cross, curled his lip. Arrogance in his every line, he bowed at the king. ‘My liege, this show of family solidarity, whilst touching, smacks of self-interest. It does not excuse them for arranging a marriage without your consent. In my view, your best course would be to confiscate their entire French estate.’
The king tapped his forefinger on the arm of his chair. ‘Sir Armand, as far as I am aware you are not a member of my council.’
‘No, my liege.’ Some of Sir Armand’s arrogance fell away. Even so, it was plain from his manner that no mention had thus far been made of Eric’s suspicions regarding Sir Armand’s involvement in Mathieu’s death, nor indeed in the incidents at Monfort and at the Jutigny gatehouse.
The king’s fingers drummed the gilded arm of his throne. ‘Yet you presume to offer advice?’
‘No, no, of course, my liege, I presume nothing.’ A tight smile appeared and Sir Armand made a show of crossing himself as he bowed his head at the cross on the wall. ‘I do, however, feel obliged to point out that should Count Faramus’s French lands be placed into the care of a loyal relation, one known to have the interests of France at heart, a substantial donation would be made to aid the completion of Notre-Dame.’
The king’s gaze shifted thoughtfully from Sir Armand to her father and then to Rowena and Eric. In the silence that fell, Rowena heard her father smother a groan. Saints, she felt like groaning herself. Devil that he was, Sir Armand knew his king.
His king’s weakness was his piety, everyone knew that. Why, when Lord Gawain had negotiated the breaking of her betrothal, he had given a large donation to the king’s favourite monastery. Currently, the project dearest to the king’s heart was the completion of the cathedral at the heart of his kingdom.
Winding her fingers more tightly with Eric’s, Rowena realised she could wait no longer. King Louis must be made to see Sir Armand in his true colours.
Her heart bumped about in her breast. ‘Your Grace, may I crave a moment’s speech with my husband? There is something I wish to tell him.’
‘Granted.’
No one moved, everyone was watching them, including Sir Armand. Rowena’s heart sank. She had to tell Eric that the witness he had long been seeking had come forward, but how could she do that with Sir Armand’s gaze boring into her back?
Her cheeks warmed. ‘Your Grace, I had hoped to speak privately to my husband.’
The king’s lips firmed. ‘I am sorry, my lady, my patience is wearing thin. I will resolve the matter of this marriage without further delay. We will hear what you have to say to him, then I will make my decision.’
‘In that case, Your Grace, I should like to suggest that you summon your guard.’
The king blinked. ‘My lady?’
Drawing strength from Eric’s presence at her side, Rowena held her ground. ‘Your Gra
ce, until you summon the guard I can say no more. What I have to say touches on more than my marriage.’
After the briefest of hesitations, King Louis snapped his fingers, exchanging nods with one of the knights. The knight slipped from the chamber. Lines formed around Sir Armand’s eyes. Rowena heard the clump of boots marching across stone flags and the murmur of voices. Shadows shifted in the street outside and after a brief space the knight reappeared.
‘The guards are in place, my liege.’
The king looked down his nose at his goddaughter. His forefinger tapped on the arm of his throne. ‘Continue, if you please.’
Taking a deep breath, Rowena launched in. ‘Your Grace, I came to Paris with two aims in mind, the most personal being to fight for my marriage. The second aim is also related to my marriage and I beg you to bear with me. It involves gaining justice for a terrible wrong.’ She clasped her hands together. ‘Will you hear me, Your Grace? Do I have your permission to begin?’
‘Please continue.’
‘I shall start with my marriage. When Sir Eric removed me from the convent, I confess I was extremely startled. However, Sir Eric did not have to force me to go with him.’ A pleat formed in the king’s brow. Rowena pressed on. ‘I made no objection, Your Grace, partly because I knew Sir Eric would never harm me. As you may recall, he was brought up at Jutigny and I knew him well. The other reason that I made no objection was because I was starting to see that entering the convent might have been a grave mistake. I had gone into St Mary’s because I had known that I could not marry Lord Gawain. Further, I needed time to think of a way to become reconciled with my parents. I wanted them to forgive me for writing to you and pleading to become a nun. I was also concerned that you, my godfather, would naturally be disappointed in me.
‘Your Grace, when I went into the convent I honestly believed my reluctance to marry Lord Gawain meant that I had a calling. My days in St Mary’s began to prove me wrong. When Sir Eric came to abduct me—’
‘My lady, abduction is not the act of an honourable man,’ the king said, severely.
Rowena stepped forward. ‘It was done with honourable intentions.’
‘Explain, if you please. I have heard something of this from Lord Faramus, your version of events would interest me.’
‘When Sir Eric took me from the abbey, he was acting at the request of my father. He was acting to save me from...from a marriage I could never have stomached, not if I lived to be a thousand. In short, Sir Eric committed a dishonourable act with honourable intentions. He did not force me. On the contrary, he granted me space to decide what to do next. Sir Eric gave me a choice, Your Grace, that is why I went with him.’
The king’s eyes flickered to Eric and back again. ‘In short, you trusted him.’
‘I would trust Sir Eric with my life.’ She glanced at Eric and smiled. ‘Your Grace, he is the most honourable of knights.’
‘His family are unknown,’ the king said, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her, eyes curious. ‘His father might be a murderer.’
Rowena tried not to look at her cousin. ‘Having noble forebears is no guarantee of honourable behaviour. Your Grace, I know Sir Eric. I have always liked him and in the months since our marriage I have come to love him. I am proud to be his wife and could wish for no other husband.’
Releasing Eric’s arm, Rowena sank to her knees. ‘I beg you to forgive us for marrying without your consent. I beg you to allow our marriage to stand. I beg you not to call for an annulment.’
Peeping up, Rowena saw the king scratch his chin. His eyes were thoughtful and she rather thought a smile was forming.
‘And the other reason for giving us the pleasure of your company, my lady?’ Leaning forward, the king gestured for her to rise. ‘You mentioned justice. A wrong that needs righting.’
Rowena’s throat felt dry, she could feel Sir Armand’s gaze burning into her back. Praying that the guards in the street were ready for anything, she turned to Eric. ‘Sir, I have to tell you that yesterday the person you have been searching for in Provins came forward.’
Green eyes searched hers. ‘The witness?’
‘Aye.’
‘Have you brought him to Paris?’ Eric asked.
Rowena grimaced. Out of the tail of her eye she could see that her cousin was hanging on their every word. ‘The witness is a she and I’m sorry, it wasn’t possible to bring her. She...she’s not well enough to travel.’ Nor is she well enough to bear witness, Rowena thought, but she couldn’t say that. It would undermine their case.
Sir Armand edged closer, Rowena could feel his breath stirring her veil. She was suddenly very afraid of what her cousin might do to Cécile if he discovered she was their witness. She certainly wasn’t about to mention actual names.
Eric studied her. She could see he understood that she had more to say, he knew she was constrained by Sir Armand’s presence.
The king made a sound of exasperation. ‘Lady Rowena, must you speak in riddles? Tell us plainly—what witness? Witness to what?’
‘Rowena, I think it best if I take it from here,’ Eric said. ‘Forgive me, my love, but I must betray your confidence. Your Grace, shortly before Lady Rowena’s betrothal to Count Gawain, one of the Jutigny squires, Mathieu de Lyon, was killed in Provins. His death was believed to be an accident—the result of a drunken brawl outside a tavern. Since I met Lady Rowena again—’
‘Since you abducted her and prevented her from following her true calling, you mean,’ Sir Armand got in. He was white about the mouth and his hands were opening and closing, opening and closing. He looked as though he could bolt for the door. Either that or strangle Eric. ‘That has to be blasphemy of some kind.’
‘Sir Armand, you are ridiculous.’ Eric shook his head and continued. ‘Your Grace, shortly after Lady Rowena left the abbey and returned to Jutigny, I came to see that the squire’s death might not have been an accident. Lady Rowena and Mathieu de Lyon had been close friends. Certain incidents took place that led me to believe Rowena’s life was in danger.’
The king’s eyes widened. ‘Lady Rowena was attacked?’
Briefly, Eric explained about the near miss with the arrow in the chase and the troop of horsemen who had threatened to attack outside Monfort.
Sir Armand huffed. ‘Who would possibly want to kill my cousin?’
‘Someone who had reason to kill her because he was afraid she might marry and bear a child,’ Eric said quietly. ‘Your Grace, after these incidents, Lady Rowena and I married and returned to Jutigny. Almost immediately there was an accident at the castle gatehouse—one in which both Lady Rowena and I might have been killed. That was when I became seriously concerned.’
‘Sir, it is you who are ridiculous.’ Sir Armand laughed. ‘This fairy tale about Lady Rowena’s life being in danger is nothing but a fabrication. A fabrication designed to show yourself in a good light.’ Sir Armand inclined his head at the king. ‘Sire, you cannot believe a word Sir Eric is saying. All he cares about is keeping the land that Lady Rowena brings him.’
Eric sank to his knees and the green cloak pooled about him. ‘Your Grace, I acknowledge my birth is questionable, but I swear to you that if you ratify our marriage there will be no happier man alive. Lady Rowena is very dear to me.’
‘You love her?’ the king asked.
‘With all my heart.’
Tears stung at the back of Rowena’s eyes. Eric sounded so sincere and she ached to believe him. Unfortunately, it was obvious he had realised that the king was fond of her, and was saying what he thought the king wanted him to say. In truth, Eric was fighting for her father’s land and the status that came with marriage to her. He couldn’t wait to become steward of Sainte-Colombe.
Eric laid his hand on his heart. ‘Marriage to your goddaughter has given me all I have longed for. A beautiful wife an
d a family I hold dear.’
‘Rise, de Monfort.’ The king paused thoughtfully. ‘I hear you have been making improvements at your manor since you won it.’
Eric’s face was startled. ‘Your Grace?’
‘I made enquiries before this hearing.’ The king smiled. ‘It’s important to get the measure of a man if you are coming to a judgement about him. Diligent stewards are worth their weight in gold. However, at present that is by the by. I should like you to tell me more about the death of this Jutigny squire and his connection with my goddaughter.’
‘Your Grace, I suspect the boy was killed because of his friendship with Lady Rowena.’
Sir Armand snorted. ‘I’ve never heard such an unlikely tale in my life. A squire? Killed because of his friendship with Lady Rowena?’
‘The boy might have been killed to prevent him making a match with Lady Rowena.’
Sir Armand spluttered. ‘My liege, you can’t believe a word of it. Sir Eric is lying. He’s an arrant knave—a cheat and a liar who has hoodwinked the Count and Countess of Sainte-Colombe into believing him to be a man of honour. Sire, Eric de Monfort is nobody. He is nothing.’ Sir Armand clenched his fists. The look he sent Rowena was charged with such loathing she didn’t doubt that if she wasn’t in the presence of Eric and the king she would have been pummelled half to death. ‘Tell us, my lady.’ Sir Armand gave a sickly smile. ‘What does your so-called witness claim to have seen?’
Rowena found Eric’s hand. ‘The witness saw you, sir.’
Sir Armand’s face went purple. ‘How dare you? Your witness is a blasted liar.’
‘No, Cousin, she is not. You were in Provins the night Mathieu de Lyon was killed. You were seen in the alley outside The Sun. You didn’t wield the knife yourself, but she heard you giving orders to the man who did. Our witness states clearly that you were seen to point at a boy with curly brown hair, namely Mathieu de Lyon. You named him, sir. You ordered his death.’
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