BindingPassion (16 page)

For a minute, Philip had no idea what had just happened.
He’d been discussing the crops to be planted in spring with a group of serfs.
When he turned away, he heard a yell, felt a sting as something sliced past his
arm, then heard the thud of something hitting the wall behind him.

He stared at the dagger still protruding from the wood
panel, then turned back to where it must have come from. Mary stood there,
staring open-mouthed and stunned.

Someone started to pull the knife from the wall. “Don’t
touch that,” he ordered. Startled, the man jumped backward. No one else moved.
Something crawled down his arm, bringing his gaze down to the place where blood
dripped from the slice on his outer forearm. The dagger had missed burying
itself in his heart by no more than a few inches.

Suddenly everyone moved at once. Sir Thomas, who’d been
standing nearby rushed over to where Mary stood and took her arm. Others
scattered, apparently searching for someone else behind her.

He couldn’t help staring at the knife protruding from the
wall, the very knife he’d given Mary, the one she’d said had been her mother’s.
Though it had only sliced his arm and pierced the wall, he felt its stick all
the way to the depths of his heart. His mind didn’t want to grasp the
implications of it and yet couldn’t escape them either.

“I want everyone who was here present questioned about what
they saw,” he told Derwyn and Sir Peter, who had come running into the hall on
hearing the fuss. Sir Thomas had Mary by the arm and dragged her over to where
Philip stood.

“My lord, you’re hurt,” she gasped.

“Just a scratch. A small thing compared with what was
intended.” The words came out cooler and sharper than he intended, but he was
still in shock. “Mary, did you see anyone around you when you rounded that
corner?”

“Nay, my lord. I know only something whizzed by me and
then…” She stared from him to Sir Peter, Derwyn, and Sir Thomas, noting their
grim expressions. She went pale. “Philip, my lord, I didn’t throw it. I would
never…”

“Have you seen what was thrown?” he asked.

He moved aside and watched her face as she saw the dagger.
Her pale face went ghostly white, and her eyes rolled before she collapsed in
Sir Thomas’s hold.

Philip drew a deep breath, feeling another sharp stab in the
region of his heart. “Take her to her quarters and confine her there. Have a
guard posted.” Thomas nodded and picked up her limp form. Philip couldn’t help
but watch them go. Pain that had naught to do with his injured arm filled him,
squeezing the breath out of his chest, making his head throb.

Brianne threaded her way through the crowd and moved to look
at the slice in his arm. “This must needs be stitched,” she said to him.

“A moment,” Philip told her. He found Derwyn. “Question
everyone you may about what they saw. There must have been someone behind her,
and someone must have seen it. Bring word to me in my solar.”

Derwyn nodded and Philip went off with Brianne. They met Sir
Thomas in the corridor. “Is she well?” he asked.

Thomas nodded. “She’s restored, but somewhat distraught.” He
nodded to the man standing by the door. “I’ve set the guard you requested.”

“Go back and help Derwyn and Peter question those who were
in the hall. I would know if anyone saw what happened and who else was there.”

Thomas nodded and departed.

While she prepared her needle and thread, Brianne asked him
what had happened.

“She knows how to throw a knife, does she not?” Philip asked
the woman when he’d related the events in the hall.

“Aye,” Brianne admitted on a long sigh. “But she would
never…Not you, my lord. She loves you. She’s never been happier in her life
than these past weeks. There’s no reason in this world why she would try to
hurt you.”

“I believe that,” Philip said. “But unless my men can find
someone who saw someone else there, the situation is going to be difficult.” He
winced as the first stitch penetrated his flesh, though that pain was minor
next to the agony of the reality starting to sink into his thoughts. “It will
appear to all that she did try to murder me.” The implications began to sink
in, though he hated to confront it. “I can’t ignore it or pretend it didn’t
happen. I know not what I can do.”

“Then we’ll hope and pray your men will find the person
truly to blame.”

“Aye.” Philip sent up a quick prayer that they would be
successful.

It wasn’t to be, however.

When he returned to his office, all three men came in within
a few minutes. All shook their heads even before he asked.

Sir Peter put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I’m truly
sorry, my lord, but I’ve found no one who saw anything but the lady standing
there after the dagger passed by you. One or two saw her come in, but none saw
anyone else around her.”

“I couldn’t find anyone who even saw her come in,” Derwyn
admitted.

“I found only one, but he saw naught else, though I believe
he’s short-sighted and unlikely to have known what he saw in any case,” Thomas
said.

Philip was quiet a moment and the others remained so as
well, respecting his thoughtfulness. Finally, though, Peter asked, “What will
you do about her?”

Philip drew a long breath and let it out on a sigh. “I know
not. I need to think on it. Let me be for a while.”

The others nodded and filed out.

Despite his words, he found he couldn’t do much clear
thinking on the problem. He didn’t believe Mary had thrown the dagger. She
wouldn’t try to kill him. She loved him as much as he did her. She’d been
joyfully planning their future together. In any case, she wasn’t the sort of
woman who could take a life in such a cold, calculated way. But who could? He
couldn’t bring to mind a single person who would want to kill him.

He couldn’t ignore the incident or write it off as an
accident. Too many people had seen it. Too many people had seen her standing in
the place where the dagger must have been thrown from. What could he do? He was
the lord here, and the people looked to him to administer justice. How could he
do so in this case? All evidence he had pointed to her guilt, and he was
unlikely to get more now. The people here loved her, however, and might not
accept whatever decision he made, whatever action he took. But would anyone
respect him if he ignored it and failed to take any action?

He wrestled with the problem all that afternoon and through
a long sleepless night. In the morning he still had no answers.

He sat at the desk in his office, head in hands, knowing he
would have to do something, make some decision, shortly, when a knock sounded
at the door and Thomas entered. The man looked at him closely as he sat down.

“You look as though you got little sleep,” he remarked.

“Less than that,” Philip admitted. “None.”

“Know you what you will do?”

“Nay,” he said. He looked up at his friend, searching for
any sort of help. “Do you believe Lady Mary threw that dagger?”

Thomas hesitated. “Last fall, when the stone fell, I was
entirely sure she was behind it. When you were poisoned, I thought it likely
she did that, too. But this…Nay. The Lady Mary is many things, but I have never
thought her stupid. I find it difficult to make sense of her doing it in such a
way.”

“What can I do? Send her away? To where, though? Hold trial
for her here? What else can I do but find her guilty, do I so? And how do I
sentence her to death? Can I do anything else, do I find her guilty, as it
would appear, in the interests of justice, I must?”

“You could take her to the king for the trial,” Sir Thomas
suggested. “She might demand it herself. She’s a noble lady.”

“I doubt she would. And if I accuse her, the king will seek
for a confession,” Philip pointed out. “They’ll torture her to get it. And if
the king sentences her for trying to kill one of his loyal knights…Nay, if it
comes to it, that she must die for this, I’ll at least see it done mercifully.
Oh, my Lord,” he said, his voice breaking up. “Please let it not come to that.
Yet I see not what other course I have.”

He covered his face with his hands, unwilling to let Sir
Thomas see the agony he knew must be showing. “I never thought, when I dreamed
of someday being the lord of my own demesne, that I’d ever have to face a
situation such as this. That the demands of justice would tear me one way,
while the demands of my own heart would pull me another.”

“My lord,” Thomas said slowly, “I have little help to give
you, and but one piece of advice I would impart. Do not act too hastily.
Actions done in haste, may well be repented for a long time. Consider well before
you do aught.”

Philip stared his surprise. He would swear that Thomas’s
advice came from bitter experience, but the man didn’t offer to share any more.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “Yet do I have little time. We’re to be
married in a week.” The pain stabbed through him again, and he could hardly
bear the agony of it.

“You must talk to her,” Thomas advised.

“Aye. I know.” Philip sighed again. “I know not what I’ll
say.”

His friend nodded and left. It had to be done. Philip
steeled his will and went down the corridor to her solar. She sat in the same
chair she’d occupied when he’d first met her as a lady. The memory cut an
agonizing path through his gut to his heart.

She looked up at him and the pain swelled. Her face was
strained, eyes dim and shadowed. “My lord,” she said. “Have you come to tell me
what doom you plan for me?”

“Mary.” He sat and took her hand, pressing it between his
palms. He wanted to lean over and kiss her until they could forget everything
else, but he dared not. “This is tearing me apart. I know not what to do.”

“Tell me this,” she begged. “Do you truly believe I would do
aught to harm you?”

He shook his head. “Nay, Mary. I believe it not. Yet am I in
a difficult position.”

Her pained look eased. “Thank you, my lord. I can bear whatever
happens more easily knowing you, at least, know I would not do such a
despicable thing.”

“But that changes naught,” he added. “I am in a difficult
position and have few options. My men have questioned all who were in the great
hall or nearby yesterday. They found no one who saw aught but you standing
there where the dagger had come from. You say it came from behind you. Did you
see anyone? Hear anything? Have you any idea who did toss it?”

Her expression had gone bleak again. “I saw no one. At first
I was concerned only with warning you about it. When I turned to look for the
source, whoever it was had gone.”

“You heard no one?”

“Nay,” she answered. “Coming into the room, I concentrated
only on your presence there. And afterward, I was too shocked and then too
relieved to realize you took no serious harm to notice aught else.”

He drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “I understand
it not. Who would want to do away with me? And in such a dishonorable,
underhanded way?”

Mary thought for a moment. “Who inherits this place after
you?”

Philip looked startled. “I’ve named Peter my heir. He’s my
sister’s son and strong enough to hold the place. Yet I cannot imagine he is so
eager to supplant me.”

“And should Peter die as well?”

“‘Twould then go to my next older brother, I suppose.”

“One of your other men might take control,” Mary suggested.

“Aye,” he admitted. “Thomas or Derwyn would have the
strength and will. But all of them have supported and helped me. None have
shown any jealousy or unhappiness with my rule.”

“A clever man wouldn’t. And whoever is doing this is clever
enough to attack you and make it appear I’m responsible.”

“Aye.”

“Philip, know you I found a broken point of a knife on the
tower after the stone near to fell on you? I have kept watch for a broken
dagger but have seen naught. And I’ve questioned near to everyone who lives or
serves here. No one has seen such a knife. If it still be in the manor, ‘tis
hidden well. I know not what else to suggest to you.”

“I shall have to think on it,” he said at last. “I must go
now. There are many things I need to think on.”

She nodded but stopped him as he turned to go. “Philip. My
lord, will you not at least kiss me before you depart?”

It was difficult to meet her eyes. He nodded and leaned
down, fitting his lips to hers. He did little more than brush his mouth across
hers. Anything more would take him into depths he dared not plumb at that time.
Even the touch was devastatingly sweet and dangerous. He couldn’t linger over
it and tore his lips away after just a moment.

Sir Thomas waited for him in the corridor. Thomas’s
compassionate look let Philip know his friend had seen his agony. “My lord,” he
said. “I have a suspicion, and a plan to prove your lady’s innocence, but it
will be dangerous and might prove fruitless or fatal.” He told Philip the plan,
but declined to identify where his suspicions lay. When he concluded he asked,
“Will you risk it?”

Philip drew a deep breath. “I must needs talk to Mary about
it first.” He stared at the man and wondered how far he dared trust him. Still,
if Thomas didn’t do his part, Philip might still use the plan to show Mary’s
innocence. Either way, there was a huge risk.

Mary paced the confines of her solar, fighting fear,
despair, and anger. She had to concentrate on what she might do to help her
situation. Only one useful idea had presented itself so far, and she hated it
passionately.

When Philip came to her again later the same day, it took
all the restraint she had to keep from throwing herself into his arms and
crying on his shoulder. His burdens were weighty enough already. Her own fears
and grief would only add to them.

Her heart twisted with pity when she looked at him. “My
lord,” she said, taking his face between her hands and kissing his lips. Tension
drew his features into hard lines, and agony twisted his lips into a harsh
frown.

She saw the effort he made to keep the discouragement from
his face and voice when he said, “Mary, I have no good tidings to impart. No
new information has come to light, and time closes in on me. I must do
something. I’m the lord here. I cannot fail to act on this.”

“Aye, I know. I’ve been thinking also,” she said. “I feared
this would be the outcome. Whoever has set up the attempts on your life is
clever. This last one was done in such a way that it would force you to act did
you survive and made it look very much as though it were I who had thrown the
knife. Whoever has done it was sly enough to be sure he would not be caught. My
lord, I realize you’re being squeezed in a vice. Your position obliges you do
something.”

She drew a long, deep breath and looked at him, letting her
love for him shine in her eyes. “I have considered if there was aught I could
to spare you. I believe I have a solution, though it cannot give me any joy.
Yet do I not see any other solution that will not cause us even more grief. If
you’ll allow me to depart this place, I’ll take myself off to a convent of
cloistered nuns and immure myself forever there.”

For a long moment he couldn’t say anything. He surely knew
what it cost her to make such a decision, and how very little she wanted to
take the veil. “Mary…” He had to stop and clear his throat. She thought she
detected a mist of tears in his blue eyes. “That you should offer such…humbles
me. And it is one possible solution. I have two others to offer, and you may
make the choice, though neither is like to make you happy.”

His mouth twisted even tighter. “One is to take the case to
the king and let him decide how to proceed. He might conclude you’re innocent
and free you.”

“And does he not?”

“You’ll go to trial. But…”

“What, my lord?”

“They generally prefer to have a confession from the
suspected culprit and will use whatever means necessary to obtain it.”

“‘Whatever means’…Torture?”

He nodded. “And should you be deemed guilty, the penalty
would be much more severe than anything I might be inclined to impose.”

Mary thought about the possibilities. Her face must have
shown her horror. Philip took her hand and said, “Nay, I’ll not risk it.
Whatever is to be done, will be done at my decision. Even should it mean…But it
will not. There is another idea, but you will have to put your very life in my
hands to make it work. And at that there’s a terrible risk.”

He drew a deep breath. “Rather than any trial presided over
by king or lord, we’ll have a trial by water ordeal. I believe it will show
your innocence most convincingly, but the true purpose is to bring all out of
the manor for some time. While they are out I’ll have someone search for a
broken knife or other evidence to point to the identity of the true culprit.”

“But if they cannot find any proof…”

“The trial itself should prove your innocence.”

“With the very real risk I might die in the process. Yet
would I die vindicated.” Mary had to force herself not to show her fear and
doubt. Oddly, though, the fear wasn’t entirely for herself. She didn’t regard
it with any enthusiasm, but she could bear the thought of dying, especially if
in the process she proved her innocence. What would it do to Philip, though,
should she not survive it? Could he bear the guilt and desolation? Would he be
able to go on and be the lord he needed to be?

She stared into Philip’s eyes and saw all her own doubt,
fear, and pain mirrored there. She liked it not, yet she had no other
suggestion to offer. His plan offered the only real possibility of survival and
vindication for her, though she thought the odds of its success were not in her
favor.

She turned from him and paced the room once more. Did she
insist on escaping to a convent, he would let her go. She would live and be
safe, though it would be an endlessly barren and cheerless existence.

Or she could choose to trust Philip and take a risk that
might cost her life. Nay, that would likely end her life.

There were no good choices. An assured but barren future or
risk her very life for the possibility of achieving a more fulfilling end.

She drew a long breath and expelled it before she turned
back toward him. “I’ll choose to trust your plan, Philip.”