Candace C. Bowen - A Knight Series 02

by A Knight of Battle

  “God be with you, my lady,” Winifred called after her.

  Following Justice de Glanville and Mylla, Lecie and Leofrick heard the sheriff and his wife speaking in angry hushed tones behind them.

  “There is no ill kin.” Noting Lecie’s interest in the conversation, Leofrick leaned close to whisper. “Father wanted Mylla to be absent when Justice de Glanville returned to the village.”

  “Knowing what kind of man he is, surely your father will not entertain the idea of him courting her?” Her eyes flying to the back of the despicable man walking beside her gentle and beautiful friend, Lecie felt even sicker.

  “Unfortunately, my father has little say in the matter,” Leofrick replied grimly. “Our livelihood can be taken away with one negative word spoken by the justice to the king.”

  “There is no justice in this world for people of no rank,” Lecie whispered in a broken voice. “I cannot see her with such a vile man.”

  “Nor can any of us.” Gently squeezing Lecie’s hand, he spoke low. “Forgive me I should not have said anything. You have enough trouble knocking at your door this day.”

  “Mylla is my closest friend, I am thankful that you confided in me. I would share her burden if I could.”

  “No thanks are needed Mylla feels the same way about you.” Glancing down at her, Leofrick smiled sadly. “As we all do.”

  “You feel there is no hope for me?” Lecie stated softly pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering.

  “We fear the justice will use you to seek revenge on behalf of his friend,” Leofrick admitted. “My father will do all he can to stop him.”

  Lecie focused on the back of the justice when she responded. “What can your father do to save me when he has no other choice than to sacrifice his only daughter to the man?”

  Leofrick exhaled heavily as he searched for an answer.

  “Do not fret, Leofrick. I have already prepared myself to die this day.” Holding her head high, Lecie ignored the curious gazes directed her way as they entered the village square.

  A cart pulled by two mules had been set below the ancient oak dubbed the hanging tree in the center of the square. A noose tied to a thick branch above the cart waited ominously swinging in the brisk autumn wind. Surrounding the tree itself, villagers gathered on blankets or crowded on carts and wagons in preparation of the proceedings to come.

  Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of a wagon where the body of Hamon lay off to the side on the sloping rise. “At least the justice had the decency to have him covered.”

  “Only after father’s insistence,” Leofrick replied. “Justice de Glanville would have had him propped up for all to see.”

  “We are here for you, Lecie,” Edmund spoke softly from behind her. “The villagers know and respect you. I am assured they will act accordingly.”

  “Thank you, Edmund,” Lecie responded over her shoulder. “Though I believe having rotten vegetables tossed at my head is the least of my concerns at the moment.”

  “Assist her into the cart.” Whirling around, Justice de Glanville addressed Leofrick.

  “Pardon me?” Leofrick drew to a stunned halt. “I must have heard you incorrectly, my lord justice. The cart acts as a deterrent for those pondering ill will, and awaits only those found guilty of the crime for which they are charged. Surely it would send out the wrong message to the crowd were you to change this tradition?”

  “Are you refusing my order?” Justice de Glanville’s dark eyes narrowed as he waited for Leofrick to respond.

  Sensing her friend’s hesitancy, Lecie hiked her skirts up to climb the sloping rise leading to the cart. “I need no assistance.”

  Hoisting herself up into the back of the wagon, Lecie stepped around the noose to face the justice. “I await your pleasure, my lord justice.”

  “Oh, I have every intention of being pleased this day, Lady Lecie,” the justice replied with a sneer. Escorting Mylla to one of the three long benches placed at the base of the rise, he strode up the slope to address the crowd. “Good people of Rochester, you are gathered here today to hear evidence of murder.”

  “My lady Lecie feeds those who have naught in the winter,” a disembodied voice called from the dense crowd. “She would do harm to none.”

  “Aye,” another called. “If she did wield a blade against Hamon, he deserved it.”

  The crowd began to murmur in agreement when Gunilda stood from a bench placed to the side of the cart reserved for witnesses. “I saw her murder Hamon with my own eyes,” she shouted. “As did Harsent seated beside me. Think what you will of us, we still have eyes and are here to swear by what we saw.”

  Pale and sweating, Harsent refused to raise her eyes from her lap where she fidgeted nervously with the ends of a threadbare shawl.

  “Good people,” Justice de Glanville called. “We have more than two eyes witnesses to prove that Lady Lecie stabbed an unarmed man in the back.” Casting a glare over his shoulder he continued, “We also have an unimpeachable witness who overheard the lady threatening the life of the man called Hamon only days prior to his death.”

  “My lord justice,” the sheriff stepped from his place at the foot of the rise. “Lady Lecie spoke of fear under the belief that Hamon would do harm to the children. I did not mention it for you to use against her in this proceeding.”

  “Nevertheless, you did mention the fact that the lady threatened the dead man,” the justice replied. “There is a witness testifying to that fact.”

  His tall frame sagging in defeat, Sheriff Richard briefly gazed at Lecie with remorse before stepping back to stand with his sons.

  Her heart pounding in fear at the implications, Lecie managed a weak smile for him. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer for Albin’s recovery.

  Withdrawing Albin’s silver dinner knife, the justice held it up for the silent crowd to see. The early morning sun glinted off the polished blade as he called, “Gunilda of Rochester, do you recognize this blade?”

  “Aye,” Gunilda responded loudly. “I do, my lord justice. Tis the blade Lecie drove into poor Hamon’s back when he was paying his respects to Sir Albin.”

  “Harsent of Rochester, do you likewise recognize this blade?” When Harsent failed to respond, the justice’s gaze bore down on her where she sat huddled beside Gunilda. “Well, do you?”

  Cringing at his booming voice, Harsent began to shake uncontrollably.

  Gunilda leaned over to hiss in her ear as Harsent reluctantly raised her eyes to where Winifred stood beside Simon, William and Merek.

  “Harsent of Rochester,” the justice thundered as he came to stand before her. “Know you the penalty of rescinding previous testimony given to the king’s itinerant justice?” Leaning close to Harsent, he hissed, “It is death.”

  “I saw her,” Harsent mumbled low.

  “You saw who, do what exactly?” the justice called loudly.

  “I saw what Gunilda said I saw,” Harsent replied weakly.

  “You heard for yourselves good people of Rochester,” the justice called. “Two witnesses testifying to the fact that Lady Lecie is guilty of murder.”

  “My lord justice,” the sheriff once again stepped forward. “It is obvious the woman has been coerced into testifying against Lady Lecie.”

  Pinning the sheriff with his gaze, the justice spoke low, “Interfere once more and I shall see your position stripped by day’s end.”

  When Sheriff Richard refused to budge, Lecie spoke for the first time. “Sheriff, Rochester needs you more than I.”

  The sheriff stepped up to the base of the wagon to face her. “Then I would ask your forgiveness for the injustice done this day, Lecie.”

  “You have it, along with my gratitude for your friendship and kindness towards my family.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as she bent to kiss his cheek. “Please see the children are taken care of if my husband does not make it through.”

  “I give you my word.” Sheriff Richard
dipped his head. “Your parents would be as proud of you as I am, lass.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Rising, she once again focused on the justice.

  Irritated by the delay, the justice called the talking crowd to order. “Good people of Rochester, I can see where you can have an emotional attachment to Lady Lecie.” Flicking his gaze to the sheriff, he continued, “Nonetheless, justice must be upheld or the kingdom will fall into anarchy.”

  “Let Lady Lecie tell us what happened,” a voice from the crowd called.

  Searching for the speaker, the justice scowled when cries of agreement reached his ears.

  “If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to lose,” the female voice cried. “Let the lady speak.”

  “Aye,” the crowd chorused. “Let the lady speak.”

  “Very well,” the justice snapped. “I am nothing if not fair.”

  Recognizing the woman’s voice, Lecie searched until she found Winifred boldly standing beside her husband. Tears filled her eyes as she met the elder woman’s gaze. Slightly shaking her head, she willed Winifred to understand her meaning not to interfere.

  In defiance of Lecie’s wishes to keep silent, Winifred fisted her hand over her heart in a show of allegiance.

  “Speak, Lady Lecie,” the justice ordered regaining Lecie’s attention. “Let us hear what you claim transpired before smiting down an unarmed man.”

  “As you wish,” she replied. Clasping her hands to still their trembling, she focused on a distant spot to retell her story. In a calm clear voice, she relived the moment where she walked in on Hamon about to smother Albin, his confession to having murdered her father and her consequent stabbing of him in order to stop him from killing her husband.

  The crowd fell silent as they absorbed her words.

  A slow clapping sound broke the stillness as the justice jeered, “Well told, my lady.” With a mock bow, he continued, “You should have been born a troubadour, so adept you are at creating a scene to cover your crime.”

  “I spoke the truth,” Lecie called to the crowd. “Hamon murdered my father and was about to murder my husband. I did no less than any one of you would have done in the same situation.”

  Murmurs of agreement raced through the crowd as Justice de Glanville once again took charge of the situation. “You claim your victim murdered your father?”

  A cool breeze swirled around Lecie as she was about to reply. Closing her eyes, she felt her parents’ calming presence with a sense of wonder.

  Determined to fight for her life, she met the justice’s unflinching gaze with her head held high. “I swear my life upon it.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” The justice chuckled harshly. “Where is the village physician?”

  Dr. Rayburn stepped from the crowd without looking at Lecie. “I am here to serve you at your will, my lord justice.”

  Turning to the man, Justice de Glanville pointed towards Lecie. “You heard this woman’s story?”

  “I did indeed, my lord justice.”

  “What say you about her father being murdered?” the justice pressed. “As I heard tell, he died of a lingering illness.”

  “That he did, my lord justice.” Facing the crowd, Dr. Rayburn called, “Many of you are aware of the fact that Lecie of Rochester banned me from saving the life of her father. I attended his body after death and can attest there was no foul play involved.”

  “It is no secret Lady Lecie is opposed to bloodletting,” a male voice Lecie recognized as Merek’s called. “It does naught else than make the body weaker.”

  “Who dares say such a thing? Step forward,” Dr. Rayburn shouted. “Bloodletting drains the poisons from the body and purifies the soul.” Met by silence, his narrowed gaze skimmed over the crowd. “The accused may as well be answering to two murders this day, instead of one.”

  Lecie gasped at the accusation as the crowd broke out into confused chatter.

  “Good people of Rochester,” Justice de Glanville shouted to gain order. “Here is a man who has treated your ills, delivered your babes, and comforted your dying loved ones as they departed this world. Yet you doubt him?” Searching the front of the crowd, the justice pointed at a rotund blond balding man with a mustache and rotting teeth. “Alan of Rochester, stand and face the accused.”

  Laboring to his feet, Alan grunted and clutched the underside of his ponderous belly as if in pain. “My lord justice?”

  “Do you recognize this woman?”

  “I do, my lord justice,” Alan whined uneasily as his cold blue eyes moved no higher than Lecie’s skirts. “She is Lecie of The Wounded Stag.”

  “And did you approach me at that very inn and tavern yesterday with information pertinent to this case?”

  Shifting uneasily, Alan swallowed hard. “I did.”

  “What was that information, Alan of Rochester?”

  “I happened to be in the tavern when I overheard Lecie threaten the life of her father, my lord justice. I felt the need to confess it to you as I believe her to be a murderer.”

  Murmurs raced through the crowd at this bit of scandalous news.

  “Alan is naught but a deceitful liar,” an angry male voice called. “Everyone in Rochester and beyond knows he is not to be trusted.”

  “Aye,” another called. “If he tells us the sun is shining, we prepare for rain.”

  “Enough,” Justice de Glanville shouted. “He has no reason to be deceitful in this matter and you will hear him out.” Scanning the crowd for anyone who would defy him, he once again spoke to Alan. “What did you hear the accused say prior to her father’s death?”

  Loudly clearing his throat, Alan spat a wad of phlegm into the dirt at his feet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his filthy hand, his gaze shifted uneasily to the justice. “I was sitting in the common room when Lecie came from the kitchen. I heard her say she was going to put an end to her father’s suffering.”

  “Aye, it is true,” Lecie called as the crowd erupted into shouted denials. “I said it as I carried medicine given to me by Baron Erlegh’s lady wife in order to ease my father’s pain.”

  “So the village liar speaks a single truth and it is twisted into something else entirely,” a male voice called. “He seeks attention like always, naught else.”

  “Be that as it may, my good people.” Dr. Rayburn waited until the chatter died down before he continued speaking. “I pleaded with the accused to allow me to treat her father and she refused. He is now dead.” Casting a contemptuous gaze at Lecie, he once again faced the crowd. “She has also just recently questioned my treatment of her husband who, as I speak, lays dying in yonder inn. Aye, good people,” he called louder. “Lecie of Rochester stands accused of one murder, yet she should be held accountable for two, mayhap even three afore long”

  “Lady Lecie.” Lecie broke the stunned silence. “And my husband will not die.”

  “Silence, you,” Justice de Glanville sprayed spit as he turned to her. “You have had your chance to speak.”

  “If you would lay such false accusations at my feet, I would have you address me properly, my lord justice.”

  “This is a travesty,” a soft voice spoke above the rising din of the crowd.

  Stunned intakes of breath from her family preceded Justice de Glanville’s surprised expression as he turned to respond to Mylla. “I beg your pardon?”

  People craned their necks trying to see the slight woman who dared confront the king’s itinerant justice. Her light blonde waist-length locks stirring in the gentle breeze, Mylla opened her mouth to repeat her belief.

  “My lord justice,” Lecie spoke up to protect her friend. “If you have finished presenting the evidence against me I would hear my sentence.”

  Silence reigned as the crowd waited for Justice de Glanville to speak. Appraising Mylla, he darted a cold glance at Lecie before addressing the sheriff. “I would suggest you remove your daughter from these proceedings. It has become apparent to me her fondness for the accused has c
louded her sound judgment.”

  “Aye, my lord justice.” Sheriff Richard stepped forward. “I shall have one of my sons escort Mylla and her mother home.”

  With a look brooking no disobedience, the sheriff presented his arm to Mylla. “Come, daughter.”

  Accepting his arm, tears filled Mylla’s blue eyes as she faced Lecie. “God be with you and grant you peace, my dearest friend.”

  Lecie brushed at the tears on her own cheeks as she smiled. “Live a blessed life for me, Mylla.”

  Breaking into sobs, Mylla wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist as Caine escorted the pair away.

  His eyes following Mylla’s progress, Justice de Glanville called, “You heard the accused. She wishes for the proceedings to be at an end before more evidence can be brought against her.” Scanning the crowd, his eyes dared anyone to defy him. “What say you, good people of Rochester? Are you ready to hear the king’s justice brought against this woman?”

  The crowd remained silent, aiming looks of disapproval towards the justice as he waited for a response.

  “Condemn her,” Gunilda shouted. “She is in league with the devil and deserves to die for what she did to my Hamon.”

  “My lord justice,” Dr. Rayburn called. “We are prepared to hear your verdict.”

  “Very well.” Justice de Glanville dipped his head. “The good people of Rochester have spoken.” Turning to face Lecie, he stared coldly up at her. “Lady Lecie of Rochester, the evidence has spoken of your guilt. For your willful murder in opposition to King Henry’s law of the land, I find you guilty.” After a lengthy pause, he smiled. “In King Henry’s name, I sentence you to death by hanging, to be carried out post-haste.”

  NINETEEN

  Albin felt pinned beneath the weight of his chainmail and armor. No, it was heavier than that. Had his horse pinned him to the ground? He felt suffocated as he weakly fought to drag air into his burning lungs. He had to rise. Fulke may have need of his sword arm. Struggling to lift the weight off him, he sought to remember what battle it was they were fighting. He focused on the soft neigh of his horse to remain conscious, only it was not a horse he was hearing. It was the whine of a dog. Tugger.