by S E Zbasnik
Nearly broke her wrist when she was caught. The light barely permeated even by the brightest dawn, but what made it unbearable was the handful of candles forever burning. There was no escaping the eye-watering glow no matter how hard you shut your eyes. This was where they banished the best damn person Hayley ever knew. She sneered while winding further into the dungeon.
Beyond the petty crimes, where the poverty-stricken who couldn’t afford their debts were kept, Hayley crossed over a threshold into the worst of the worst. The murderers, bandits, and rapists all sat here until the state could pull in a headsman to sharpen his axe. Hayley’d never been in this part, not even to help get someone out. She waved at Myra to stay in the poor section just in case a guard was in there. Hayley could possibly escape, or wiggle her way free. Myra would be caught and no doubt doom them all.
Creeping through the cells crammed with the snores of troubled sleep and scrabbling claws of rats, Hayley tried to peer in through the bars. Dark lumps rested in corners, only the hint of burlap clothing giving away anything but straw was in there. How was she going to find him? Shouting for Gavin would set off who knew what and it’d probably send the guards running.
She was about to head back and steal a candle when she spotted a form unlike the others. It rested upon its knees, one hand folded into a fist while the head was bowed. Words of comfort, of solace, of the promise of justice and peace, dripped from the praying man. No real murderer would look to the Lord for justice, not before the noose anyway.
“Ser?” Hayley whispered. The head shot up instantly and Hayley gasped. His entire right eye was blackened, a great scar running down the cheek.
“Hayley?” Gavin coughed out. With a struggle, the man with the broken arm rose to his feet. As he walked closer Hayley realized he was without a shirt. A pair of rags clung to his hips to hide his whole other bits, but the bastards wouldn’t even let him have pants before they banished him to hell.
“This isn’t safe. You shouldn’t be here. If they find you…” he began, not thinking a thing for his sorry state.
“I had to come,” Hayley sputtered. His breath stank of copper, making her wonder how much blood he’d swallowed before they stopped taking their pound of flesh for fun.
“Why?”
Rather than say, Hayley waved her hand and stepped back. Myra eased her way into this pit of horrors, her eyes wide. But the moment she spotted Gavin, she ran for the bars. “Oh god,” both gasped, Myra snaking her arms through the gaps to try and hug her husband tight. Gavin’s only working hand cupped his wife’s cheek, his thumb glancing over the tracts of her tears.
“Myra,” he sputtered, “I was so worried. I feared that he’d, that he could have done something to you. If you’d been hurt…”
“I’m fine, merciful Jesus, I’m—” She sucked in a breath, her eyes darting down the battered body of her husband. A groan broke from her lips. “What did they do to you?”
“Don’t.” Gavin wrapped his fingers through her hair, black streaks burrowing into the silken gold and he pulled her forehead to his. “Don’t look at that. Just…” He breathed with her. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you’re not hurt.”
“Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m in one piece. He didn’t even strike me.”
“Thank the Lord,” he prayed. No doubt that was what he’d been begging from God the entire time he was trapped behind bars. “My heart.” His body began to collapse as if the fear of Myra’s safety was all that kept him upright. Lashing her arms tighter, Myra pinned Gavin up.
“I’m not letting you go, you hear me.”
“Myra…”
“No! This is, what he is pulling is bullshit. It will not stand. It cannot stand. Gavin,” her forehead crested against her husband’s, “I have to tell them the truth, that I’m your wife. Flesh of my flesh.”
“You can’t!” he gasped, revived enough he could stand taller than her. “If you do, he’ll take everything from you.”
“If I lose you, he will!”
His steadying hand slid up and down her cheek, something of a smile flitting over his lips. “My meadow flower. There is another way. People will speak for me. People will attest to my character, to how I would never hurt you.”
“If I tell them…” Myra continued, but Gavin wouldn’t hear of it.
“No, it’s too dangerous. All he knows is that you and I were...” His words stumbled as if he couldn’t say the truth even with the noose before him.
Myra tipped her head and smiled wanly. “Two bodies made whole.”
“The idea that you’re already married, he might…I fear what his reaction would be. The anger. Please, meadow flower, promise me you will not tell them you’re my wife.”
“Gavin…”
“Promise, even if… I cannot possibly survive in here if I live in fear of what could happen to you beyond my reach. It would surely kill me before any punishment of the Magistrate. Please.”
Tears rose in Myra’s eyes, but she bobbed her head. “Okay. I-I promise. I’ll keep it secret as long as I can.”
“Blessed saints in the sky, I love you.” He drew the tips of his fingers down to her lips, smudging the pretty pink pigment while Myra greedily pressed her all to them. “Hayley,” Gavin’s voice roused her from her awkward lean, “guard her, please. Keep her safe until this trial is over. She can’t return to her father’s place, but I suspect that you know of a few hiding spots in the city.”
“I will, Ser. I swear it.” Hayley saluted at that, meaning every word.
Her broken knight’s eyes forgot about the squire in the room. They fell only upon his love, trying to gift her succor instead of taking it for himself. “You should go,” Gavin spoke as if every word burned his tongue to voice. His hands didn’t fall from Myra’s skin, his face didn’t lift away from the bars. “Before they find you, before it’s all ruined. Please, my love.”
Myra nodded her head even as she whispered, “How can I leave you like this?”
“Knowing that I will do everything in my power to be by your side once again,” he answered. Pressing the bite of iron to his flesh, Gavin’s lips searched for hers. As tears dripped from both their eyes, the lovers, the couple in the eyes of God, shared a kiss from the bottom of their hearts. Hayley tried to look anywhere, but a blush burned on her cheeks until she heard the disentangled pop.
“Go,” Gavin said, his fingers gifting Myra one last caress before they fell away. “Please go.”
Nodding dumbly, Myra stumbled out with Hayley holding tight to her arm. The pair made it out to the poor dungeons before Hayley whispered, “Are you going to do what he said? Even if it doesn’t go in his favor, will you not tell them you’re married?”
The mourning wife didn’t answer, she just pursed her lips harder and glared through the air.
CHAPTER FORTY
No one in their right mind liked coming to the judgment building. It probably had some fancy, plaque worthy name with keep, or citadel, or pavilion after it, but Hayley knew it the same way all the other unimportant heads in the city did. This was where you came when there was a decision about to be handed down. Which meant damn near everyone ran from the towering building of red stones and iron statues with the sword of justice for pillars. Least they did if they were smart.
Hayley snuck her way in through the back, hopping on her feet as she left the cloaked Myra to stand around just outside the main door. Bloody place was packed, people of all make crammed into the standing room area. The main judging hall could at best hold maybe a couple hundred, the back doors opening upon both sides of a partial upper view that flanked the main aisle. That was pipped directly into the lower quarters, no doubt where they were keeping the Magistrate, the prisoners, and those who came to make the prisoners lives hell. A wooden banister separated the riffraff from the accused, but it didn’t really stop the insults or rotten food from being splattered against them when they took the walk.
“Why the hell is everyone here?” Hayley muttered to he
rself. She glanced around from one full side across the aisle back to hers.
“Ain’t ya heard?” a male voice answered the question she didn’t ask him. At that moment a trio of trumpets blared from the front of the building. Hayley turned to eye up the chair where the Magistrate would sit in judgment. Usually banner of Ostmount hung behind it off of the upper beams. It was pulled down revealing the wall to a backroom hidden behind. Odd. Maybe it fell down, or someone stole it.
Every groundling dashed to the banisters, muddy fingers clinging tight to the wood while they stretched their necks to watch. Hayley was blinded by tall backsides. All she could make out were people moving down the aisle. Shapes and colors shifted between the gaps. For a moment, she thought she spotted Gavin by the burst of brown, but no, surely even they let him put on a damn shirt for this.
As the rubberneckers settled down, Hayley was able to ooze to the wall, put her foot on a support rock sticking out from the others and stood higher to get a good look. Instead of the Magistrate — a weasel-faced man with a horseshoe of dirty brown hair circling his shiny head — a distinguished man dressed in a golden doublet and hose stood before the chair. He smiled, his hand lifting in a small wave before planting his ass right into the seat.
“Lords and Ladies,” a voice rang out from the side, “today’s judgment shall be presided over by our most beloved King Henry.”
Oh God. Hayley slunk deep into the crowd, her face paling to that of a ghost. The King was here? And he was sitting in judgment. What did that mean?
“Milord,” the lead voice continued, “we have before us a most pernicious case. Dear Lord Chapman, a man beloved by the crown, has accused Ser Gavin Frey of taking the Lord’s only daughter against her will.”
Shit. Chapman was beloved by the crown? As in he did this? He moved heaven and hell to bring the King here to just chop off Gavin’s head without thought? Hayley began to shove her way around the crowd. She couldn’t hide back and hope for the best the way her knight wanted.
“That is troubling.” Henry’s voice was soft but carried as every tongue stilled when he spoke. “What have you to say for yourself?”
Hayley made her way around a pair of overstuffed women in too tight dresses, having to elbow both. As she came to a stop just above the edge of the banister, she watched as a man with both hands shackled together despite one being broken rise to his feet. She was both right and wrong. It was her knight, and Gavin was still shirtless. The loincloth did little to aid in his defense.
“That I am innocent, your Majesty,” Gavin spoke concisely, his bruised head falling to his chest.
“Yet you were caught in the act of soiling my only child!” a rabid voice screamed from the side nearest Hayley. She had to twist her head to find a man, who’d be described as portly were it not for his great height, slamming a fist into his palm. His hair was nearly snowy, but no doubt had once been as golden as Myra’s. But what struck Hayley was the look in his face. You didn’t live to the age of fifty or sixty without your true heart catching up on the outside.
He bore the same resemblance to every housewife that chased a freezing Hayley away with a broom, every shopkeep that caught a starving child sneaking off with a candy and threatened to lob her hand off, every slaver that didn’t flinch when their cargo burst into tears. It was hate, it was privilege, and it was something that was shared with every other rich man in the city.
“Calm yourself, Jason,” the King said in his soothing voice. Chapman wisely shook off his rage, clearly more worried about how the King would react than really feeling incensed for his daughter. “There is procedure, and the fact of the matter is that this is no average brigand in the dark. Ser Gavin, as I understand it you are a knight of the realm.”
“That is true, your Majesty,” Gavin spoke even as the booing began to splatter around in the audience. They already judged him guilty because they wanted nothing more than a good hanging.
“What have you to say for yourself?”
“My character shall speak for me. I do not deny the state in which I was found, nor the love and devotion I feel for Myra Chapman—”
That set off a great explosion of boos and jeers. Chapman cracked his fists as if he wanted this finished so he could resume marrying off Myra regardless of her wishes.
“Hold please.” Henry raised his hand again. “I ask you kindly to curb your tongues lest we find other uses for them.”
Silence crashed upon the audience. For his debonair demeanor, the King was bloodthirsty. Everyone who’d gone anywhere near the castle gates knew it.
“I did not take her against her will,” Gavin continued, “nor would I ever harm her in any way.”
“I see.” Henry tipped his head in clear boredom. “Well, send in the first speaker.”
The doors parted revealing a dark-skinned woman hiding in the shadows. As she took one step forward, her always straight spine faltered. Every jeering tongue rose up, fists shaking towards her as Erin walked into the line of fire. While Gavin stood directly before the King, Erin waited behind him. For a moment, her eyes grazed over the clearly beaten man not allowed a stitch of clothing, but she held her tongue.
“My King.” She saluted, then took a knee to bow fully to her lord. That seemed to make Henry happy, the man bouncing in his chair. “I am Knight-Captain Erin and I have come to speak on Gavin’s behalf.”
“Proceed.”
“He has served you faithfully, my Lord. Risen from the lower ranks to that of Captain before he was yet the age of twenty-five. Dutifully performed in your name in both the field of battle and the tournaments. And I, personally, have never known a finer man.”
Hayley brought her hands together, trying to get the rest around her to clap for the stirring speech, but all she got for her efforts were glares. A few hands tried to grab onto her shoulders and throw her back but she wasn’t moving for anything. Forget them all.
“You are just a Knight-Captain as well,” the King said in a way that clearly wasn’t a question. “Not much importance in the scheme of things. Nor do I weigh your impressions of a man found with his pudding prick buried deep inside of Lord Chapman’s daughter with much verve.”
Christ. Hayley crumbled, her forehead banging into the banister as her cheeks lit up from the king calling her knight’s…bits and bobbles anything so crass. She heard a groan from below and caught both Gavin and Erin melting the same, their cheeks flushed from embarrassment while a lot of the audience were trying to get a look at his goods hidden under the loincloth.
“Send in the next speaker,” Henry ordered, the doors opening wide. Hayley didn’t rise from her place, her eyes upon Erin who shuffled off to the side. She didn’t drift too far from Gavin, but the anger at his getting caught was obvious even to Hayley in the balcony.
When the shifting sounds of cloth dragged over stone paused, the King smiled. “Ah, dear cousin.”
Cousin? Hayley twisted around and her heart sunk to her feet. Duchess Bernadine stood before her disgraced knight. She wouldn’t even look at the poor man, her eyes fully upon the apparent cousin on the throne.
“It has been some time since last we spoke,” Henry chided her.
“I fear my age makes travel difficult, my Lord.” The woman in the fanciest dress she owned tugged on the edges to try and curtsy but Henry waved it away.
“How fortuitous then that you should be in town when your very voice is required.”
“The Lord’s blessing perhaps,” Bernadine said tight-lipped and Hayley rose up higher. Was she on Gavin’s side? Sure, she seemed to favor her strapping knight, but finding out he was diddling a merchant’s daughter behind her back had to chafe.
“Please, my loving cousin, speak for the accused if you wish.” Henry gestured towards Gavin who couldn’t look to his patron. No doubt if she was here he already knew that his meal ticket was gone. Which meant so was Hayley’s. Crap.
“For nearly two years, Ser Gavin has served me without complaint, without over imbibing drink
, without dishonoring me or my house in such a manner that would bring shame to my name.”
“Until now,” Chapman interrupted, causing both a Duchess and King to glare at the man. He may be in good standing with the crown, but apparently, no one messed with Henry’s cousin.
While Chapman tried to swallow his tongue, the King sighed. “He does make a point, Birdie. The past you’re aware of means little when he could have been carrying on with other girls under your care, and you may not have even known.”
For the first time, Bernadine’s eyes cut to her knight bowing from the metal encasing his wrists. “One does not work with a man for nearly twenty months without coming to learn his heart. While I have no explanation for the reasons for his being coupled with Lord Chapman’s daughter, I do have many for his courage and character.”
“Do you think he’s guilty?” the King asked point blank.
Holy shit. Was this it? Would Bernadine vouch for him and Henry go along with it? He seemed barely invested in this, so maybe.
The Duchess placed her withered hands to her stomach and took in a breath. After a moment of contemplation, she said, “I am not certain, because I am not God. But the man I knew, the man I allowed to guard my estate and life, would never commit such an atrocity.”
Damn it! Hayley moved to bash her open palm into the banister, when she paused, well aware of the eyes on her. If she got thrown out, Gavin would have no one in this bullshit court in his corner. Taking a deep breath, she watched as the King dismissed Bernadine, a young man helping to guide her back to somewhere nicer behind the door.
The King leaned forward upon his throne, his fingers tented as he stared at the nails. Was he weighing Gavin’s soul or debating the need for a manicure? Hayley ground her teeth at the thought when the man sat up. “Is there no one else who will speak for your character, Ser Knight?”
