by Anne Herries
‘I am too weak to remember,’ Fritz said and lay back against the pillows. ‘There was a letter and some papers.’
‘The papers have been found, but someone who knew where they came from might earn my lord’s thanks for revealing that to the right person.’ Ali handed him a cup of water, letting him take a few sips. ‘If you knew the truth of what happened at Lord de Montfort’s estate, it could earn you more than freedom.’
‘I am tired,’ Fritz said and closed his eyes. ‘Too tired to think.’
Anne slept very little that night. She tossed and turned restlessly, and when she did fall asleep at last, she woke crying Stefan’s name, her cheeks wet with tears. In her dream she had been torn from his arms as they dragged him to the scaffold. She had witnessed his terrible death and the horror of it was still with her as she woke, making her cry out.
The dream had been so terrifying that she could not stay in bed. She got up and began to pace the room, weeping bitterly. It was so unfair that she should lose the man she loved just when she had found him again.
They had spent so little time together when you counted the hours, but she knew that from the first moment she had opened her eyes and seen his face she had loved him. Anne did not know why Stefan had such a hold on her heart, for he had done little to encourage her love. Yet the way he looked at her, his smile, his touch…and the kisses they had shared would never leave her memory.
If Stefan died, disgraced and branded a murderer, she would never marry. Indeed, she might end by taking her own life, though that would be a wicked sin. However, she could not bear the thought of life without him. She had thought that she would not take him if he asked her only to keep the promise he had made her, but now she knew that she would wed him whatever the case. Without him her life would be empty.
She loved him more than her life itself, and she would visit him at the Tower to tell him of her love. Perhaps if Stefan understood how much she loved him, he would fight even harder for his life.
Stefan lay on the hard bench that served as a bed, but did not sleep. There was little light in the room, though he had been provided with a table, chair, pen, ink and parchment so that he might prepare his defence. He had been given bread, cheese and a rough wine, also water that he could use to drink or wash. Late the previous night some of his clothes had been brought to him and an extra blanket.
Someone had paid the gaoler money for easement. He supposed it to be Hassan, for he had few friends in this country. He had fought as a mercenary under the flag of any prince or trader that would pay him, and had sometimes fought against his own countrymen. For that some would think him a traitor to his country and his King, though he had never taken up arms against them, merely defended those he served.
Stefan scowled in the darkness. The candle they had given him had burned low long ago. He knew well enough that men like Sir Hugh Grantham and Lord Cowper were respected, though they had raped and murdered any that stood in their way. However, Sir Hugh’s crimes had often been done against the heathen infidel under the banner of Christ and were condoned for that reason. No one cared that he tortured and ill used the men and women he bought and sold as slaves.
Sir Hugh had been killed by Hassan and Stefan knew that his friend would testify to the truth if he allowed it. He might win his freedom at the cost of his friend’s life, but Stefan would never allow Hassan to sacrifice himself in his stead. Stefan was innocent and he would demand his right to prove his innocence in the ancient tradition of single combat. He knew that Cowper would never meet him, but he had the right to appoint a champion if any one would stand for him.
Stefan would prefer to die by the sword rather than on the scaffold, though his skill was such that he could hold his own against most. However, he knew that the King was against the practice. He had brought new law to England and preferred to settle disputes in other ways.
Stefan rose from the cot and began to pace the floor of his cell. He had taken a risk coming to London, for he had known that Cowper would try to strike at him. He had not thought that it would be these false accusations, for there could be no proof. Only someone who had known of the plot to trap him could have known he was there, which must mean that Cowper and Sir Hugh had plotted these things together. He wished there was some proof of Cowper’s perfidy, but he doubted it could be found. Even his father’s letter was not clear proof of anything, other than a father’s love for the son he had sent away in anger.
At least he had that, Stefan thought. Some of the bitterness had been cleansed from his mind, and he could remember a child’s laughter and a man’s kindness without anger. So much had been lost that could not be replaced, and yet he had a chance for happiness…
Stefan groaned inwardly as he remembered Anne’s face. She had looked at him with love when they had met by chance in the street. He had known an urgent desire to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off with him. Had he taken her then, returned to France on the first ship, he might have avoided arrest. She might even now be his wife. Yet he could not have lived with the shadow of injustice hanging over him.
This business must be finished one way or the other. Only then could he be free to go to her.
‘Are you sure you wish for this?’ Rob asked. The dark shadow of the Tower loomed over them, its history forbidding and bloody, its very walls resonating with whispers of murder and torture within its shade. ‘You may leave now and none will think the worse of you.’
‘I am quite sure,’ Anne replied. Her face was pale and she felt uneasy as they passed beneath an arch leading to some stone steps. ‘I want so see Stefan. At least he will know that he has friends to help him.’
‘I could have told him that,’ Rob said but saw the determination in her. She would not be swayed, even though the sight of this place threw a chill into many a heart. ‘He may not thank you for it, Anne. He is a proud man and will not want you to see him here.’
‘I know he is proud, but he should know that I love him,’ she said. ‘Whatever happens in the future, he will have that to remember.’
The gaoler had come out to meet them. He beckoned them inside out of the chill breeze that blew across the Thames. Rob handed him a small leather purse and he weighed it in his hand, smiling at the clink of the gold coins inside.
‘The young lady may go in,’ he said. ‘You will wait outside the cell for her, sir. Have you brought anything with you?’
‘Only food and wine,’ Anne said showing him her reed basket. ‘You may look inside if you wish. I did not bring a weapon, for Stefan would not try to escape. My lord is innocent of the crime he has been charged with and will answer in court.’
‘They are all innocent to their loved ones,’ the gaoler muttered but quietened as he saw Rob’s scowl. ‘Well, you are not the first to bring him food. He has been well cared for. Ask him if you will, I have supplied all his needs.’
‘Except for his freedom,’ Anne said. ‘But that is not yours to grant, I know.’
At the top of the stairs there was a wooden door studded with iron and fastened with bolts. At the top was a little grill so that it was possible to look inside and Anne could see a faint light showing through. She shivered as the damp chill of the ancient stones struck her and wished that she had thought to bring an extra blanket for Stefan. In a place like this it would always be cold.
For a moment a picture of Stefan in the gardens at the chateau came to her mind and she blinked as the tears stung. He had been so sure of himself, such a strong powerful man and the thought of him being shut up in this terrible place was almost too hard to bear. She pushed her weakness aside. Stefan would not want to see her weep. She waited as the gaoler unlocked the door and held it for her, allowing her to walk inside. Stefan was seated at a table, his head bent as he wrote industriously.
‘Stefan…my lord…’
His head came up, his shoulders stiffening. He flipped his work over so that the blank side was face up and then turned to look at her, an expression of incredulity
in his eyes as he rose to his feet. He stood by the table, making no attempt to come to her.
‘Why have you come here? This place is not fit for you, Anne.’
‘I wanted to see you.’ She went forward, placing her basket on the table. Still he did not move. It was as if he were turned to stone, stunned by her presence in his cell, almost angry that she had come. She felt the pain lance through her, and tears stung her eyes. Pride aided her. She would not let her tears fall, even though her heart felt as if it were being torn from her body. ‘I know you are innocent of the crimes they accuse you of, Stefan. My father…Harry, the Earl of Gifford…they are all trying to help you.’
There was no change in his frozen expression. ‘Why should they do that, Anne? I hardly know your father and the others are strangers to me. Why should they help or believe in a man they do not know?’
‘Because I ask it of them,’ Anne said with a quiet dignity. Her love shone from her like an incandescent flame. ‘You are my promised husband, Stefan. If I had not been stolen away, we should have been married.’
‘Perhaps it was better that the marriage did not take place…’ His gaze was flinty, distant, as if he were determined to keep her at a distance.
‘No! How could you say that?’ Anne asked and her lovely face reflected her hurt. ‘You must know that I would wed you now—here in this place—if you wished it?’
‘Perhaps you would, but I would not permit it,’ Stefan said, though his expression relaxed a little. She had such fire, such passion! It was no wonder that she haunted his thoughts day and night. He longed to take her in his arms, to smell the intoxicating perfume that was hers alone, but held himself by his iron will. She should not be here! ‘Do you think I would wish that fate on you, sweet Anne? If I die as a murderer, stripped of all honour—would you wish to carry my name?’
‘Yes, for I shall never believe such tales,’ she said. ‘I know you are innocent. You would not murder a woman in cold blood.’
‘No, though I am in part to blame,’ Stefan said. He waited, watching for that shining belief to fade from her eyes, but it did not falter. ‘The lady Madeline told me she was in dire need of help. I went with her, for she said that she had something to show me that I must see. When we were alone she threw herself at me and ripped her gown. She began to cry rape and accuse me of abusing her. The door opened so swiftly that I knew it must have been planned. I had no weapon, but I pushed the lady away from me. She staggered…and Sir Hugh thrust his sword into her. I am not sure whether it was an accident, though I believe he may have planned to murder her from the beginning and blame me. If we were both dead, there would have been no one to gainsay him. However, Hassan had been uneasy and he came looking for me. He threw me my sword and he killed Sir Hugh to stop him killing me. Some of Sir Hugh’s men came in answer to his dying call and we fought our way out.’
‘You need not have explained—I knew that you were not guilty of murder,’ Anne said and moved towards him, her eyes shining with love. ‘You must tell the court what truly happened.’
‘Hassan would almost certainly lose his life in my stead,’ Stefan said, ‘and I might still be accused of complicity. I will not take the chance. I am innocent and I am willing to prove it in trial by combat.’
‘But supposing the King will not allow it?’ Anne said.
‘Then I must take my chances,’ Stefan said and smiled at her. ‘Perhaps it will not come to a trial—there can be no proof since I killed no one that day.’
‘But you must answer the charges,’ Anne said. ‘If you do not.’ She caught back the sob of despair that rose to her lips. ‘The punishment is death. You must know that.’
‘I am aware that I could be beheaded for a crime I did not commit,’ Stefan agreed. ‘But I have proof that Cowper hath always been my enemy, and perhaps if there is any justice in Henry’s England I shall be allowed to walk free, clear of the stain that Cowper has lodged against my character.’
Anne’s eyes filled with tears despite her determination not to weep. ‘What shall I do if you die?’ she whispered. ‘Do you not know that it will break my heart?’
‘I am sorry for it,’ Stefan said, his voice grating harshly. His face was stony, giving no sign of any inner turmoil. ‘I beg your forgiveness if I have brought you pain, Anne. You are very young and beautiful. Other men, more worthy than I, will love you, and in time you will forget me and find happiness.’
‘You must think me a shallow, silly girl, and therefore cannot love me,’ Anne said and blinked back her tears as her pride came to the rescue. ‘Forgive me, my lord. I shall go.’
‘Yes, it is best that you do,’ Stefan said. ‘It would have been better if you had not come here.’
Anne turned and walked to the door, head high, shoulders squared. Well, she had had her answer from Stefan’s own lips. She had been a fool to come here! He did not love her enough.
Stefan turned away as the gaoler opened the cell door and let her out, the heavy door creaking and then clanking as it was firmly shut and locked. His body was stiff with tension as he sat down again, and only a little nerve at his temple gave any sign of the extreme emotion he was feeling. It had taken all his strength of will not to call her back, to take her in his arms and kiss her until she clung to him, yielding as he knew she would once their lips met.
He wanted her so much that it felt as if he were being ripped apart, but it was best that she should be angry with him. Anne must learn to forget him, forget anything she had ever felt for him, because he believed it was likely that he would die quite soon.
Cowper was a powerful enemy. Stefan had tried his best to bring him to justice in the lawful way, but it would have been better if he had simply killed him and returned to France. Henry’s justice would not have followed him there, and he would have been free to live as he pleased.
Yet even as the bitter thoughts tumbled in his mind, Stefan knew that he would not have gone to Anne with blood on his hands. He had taken the way of law and justice because he loved her, and if it was his destiny to die for it, then he would do so—but she must be free of the stain. He loved her too much to take advantage of her generosity.
Anne was sitting with her sister and mother in the parlour when her father came in. She knew from his expression that he had news and her heart quickened.Her sewing set aside, she got to her feet and stared at him, eyes wide and fearful.
‘You have news?’ she said.
‘The trial is set for tomorrow,’ Rob told her. ‘Do not look so anxious, daughter. The outcome may be better than you think. A letter and some evidence that de Montfort may have been cheated of his birthright have come to light.’
‘That would be justice,’ Anne said. ‘Yet it does not clear him of the charge of murder.’
‘No, that is true,’ Rob said. ‘However, there is no proof that he did kill the lady Madeline or Sir Hugh either. Henry sent a letter commanding Lord Cowper to come to London and provide proof of the charges he laid, but he has not come. If he does not appear before the court, it will be up to the King to decide whether or not the charges are valid.’
‘Will that help Stefan? He has been branded a mercenary and a murderer. Who will persuade the King to his cause? He has refused to do more than proclaim his innocence.’
‘Has he told you what truly happened that day?’ Rob’s gaze arrowed on her face. ‘If you know, you must tell me, Anne.’
‘He was asked to help the lady Madeline, but when he went to her chamber she tore her gown and cried rape. Her uncle rushed in at once, for it was a trap. Stefan threw her towards Sir Hugh and he killed her. He would have killed Stefan, too, had not…someone else arrived. He killed Sir Hugh in fair fight and he gave Stefan his sword. Together they fought free of Sir Hugh’s men.’
‘Does he have a witness for this?’
‘Not one he will call,’ Anne said. ‘He says that this person would die in his stead and he might still be condemned as an accessory, so he will not speak.’
R
ob nodded and looked thoughtful. Anne’s revelation brought new respect for Lord de Montfort. ‘The man is proud and a fool, but honourable,’ he said. ‘Well, we must see what can be done. If Lord Cowper does not appear to put his charges in person, everything depends on the King.’
Anne’s face was very pale. She had wept herself to sleep the night after her visit to the Tower, but since then she had been thinking hard and she had come to much the same decision as her father.
Stefan was proud, too proud to allow her to sacrifice herself for his sake, just as he refused to let Hassan testify. It must be for this reason that he had sent her away. His words denied her and yet something in his eyes had told her that he did not mean them. She clung to the thought that he loved her even though he would not say it.
‘We are bidden to the court this evening,’ Rob told his wife and daughters. ‘I know that Anne is in no mood for merriment, but we must not offend his Majesty. Tomorrow, a man’s life may hang on the whim of a King, and though I believe Henry a fair man, he can be stern. So we shall go to this masquerade this evening and smile— and that includes you, Anne.’
‘Yes, Father, if it is your wish,’ she replied.
She returned to her sewing, head bent as she concentrated on her work. The knowledge that Stefan must stand his trial soon had hung over her like a dark cloud. She had no wish to dance or feast, but she knew that she had little choice. She must behave in a dignified way and keep her tears for the privacy of her bedchamber.
She loved Stefan, but he had rejected her love. He had sent her away and that hurt, but she would not lose all hope. She would pray for a miracle, and perhaps one day they would be together again.
‘You look very beautiful this evening,’ Comte De Vere said when they met that evening at the royal banquet. ‘Indeed, you grow more lovely every time I see you, Mistress Anne. I hear there is to be dancing this evening. I hope that you will dance with me?’
