The Gorgon (45 page)

"I would agree," he
said finally, turning away and picking at his nose. "But only for a few
minutes. And I would have my guards present during the meeting."

Stephan attempted to refute the
last command but Summer hushed him, terrified that Breck would reconsider if
the terms were challenged. Without another word to her father, the half-drunk
woman in the corner or the repugnant knight pulling the mucus from his nose,
she swept from the room with her mighty brothers in tow.

She was gone, leaving Margot and
Edward and Breck bathed in an uneasy silence. As the soft hiss of the sea
breeze infiltrated the lancet windows, Margot's thin voice pierced the air.

"She is wrong, Edward,"
she said softly. "Her reasoning is shaded with Bose's version of events.
For certain, she is wrong and our cause is as strong as ever. Have no
fear."

Edward, his expression dull,
looked to the thin woman. "I do not fear. But I do question."

"Do not," she snapped,
her weakened composure making a customary return. "There is no need. We
will not fail in our quest to be rid of Sir Bose. I promise you that."

Against the opposite wall, Breck
looked to the lady curiously. "You have more information against him?
Another strategy, mayhap?"

Faintly, Margot shrugged. Faded
blue eyes met with those of small, questioning blue. "Indeed. As long as
Lord Edward maintains his faith and truth, the results will be favorable."

Breck cocked an eyebrow.
"What you mean to say is that as long as Baron Lulworth does as he's told,
well emerge victorious."

Margot laughed softly, casting
Edward a nearly affectionate glance. "He shall do as he's told. And I
believe I have the final answer that will weaken any strength of Sir Bose's
case."

"You do?" Breck moved
away from the wall, toward her. "Do tell."

Margot merely smiled, a sly
gesture. "An inebriated man usually cannot remember what has occurred
during the course of his drunken state, can he?"

Jolted from his sluggish
ignorance, Edward turned to the smug woman. "Make sense, Lady Margot. My
memory has never failed me, wine or no."

Reaching out frail, boney
fingers, Margot touched Edward's sallow hand. "It is about to, my
lord," she whispered confidently. "It is about to."

***

The peach-colored silk reflected
the sun's rays beautifully as Summer and her brothers emerged into the
dust-filled bailey en route to the vault. Her urgency and excitement growing by
the moment, Summer kept a rapid pace toward the entrance to the underground
dungeon just as a rider bearing du Bonne colors passed beneath the raised
portcullis and thundered into the courtyard.

Stephan caught sight of the man,
pausing in his pursuit of his eager sister.  Ian paused too, causing Summer to
rein her excitement for a moment as both brothers seemed focused on the red and
white messenger. As the man was met by a few servants intent to collect his
frothing steed, he dismounted the weary beast and immediately made haste for
his liege's eldest son.

Stephan wait with growing
apprehension as the young rider approached, greeting him formally. "My
lord Stephan," the youthful soldier was clearly out of breath. "I
have ridden from Poole this day with a message from Lord Bruce Eggardon. Shall
I deliver it to you now or within the presence of your father?"

Summer and Ian were suddenly
beside their eldest sibling, their faces wide with anxiety. Stephan did not
keep them waiting.  "Tell me now."

The soldier nodded swiftly,
attempting to catch his breath before he delved into his missive. "Lord
Bruce has been feeling poorly as of late and will be unable to travel for
several days. Expect him in six days, no less, and be prepared to begin the
hearings immediately. He shall not have time to waste."

Stephan nodded faintly,
dismissing the soldier as he turned to his brother and teary-eyed sister. When
he saw Summer's composure crumbling at the thought of her husband languishing
within the vault for the next week, he grasped her hands firmly and held them
against his chest.

"No tears, sweetheart,"
he pleaded softly. "'Tis wonderful news, truly, and I will tell you
why."

But Summer refused to allow him
to continue, sobbing softly as Ian put a comforting arm about her shoulders.
"Six d-days in the v-vault is n-not wonderful, Stephan," she wept.
"He shall d-die in that place!"

"He will not," Stephan
said firmly, lowering his voice so that his explanation would not be overheard.
"I refrained from telling you about my hopeful prospects for Bose's
freedom simply because you were entirely overwhelmed as it was by the situation
and I had no desire to baffle you further. But you must know now of the hope I
have for Bose's release. And six days' postponement is the best possible news
we could have hoped for."

She looked to him, sad and
dubious. "W-Why do you say this?"

Stephan's expression seemed to
glow with the knowledge of his clever scheme. "Before we rode in pursuit
of Breck's trail yesterday morn, I sent a messenger to King Henry pleading for
the king's Divine Grace in absolving Bose of the thievery charges. And my
messenger was none other than Duncan Kerry himself. If anyone can convince the
king of Breck's evil intentions, Duncan can. But it will take time, time that
has apparently come as a gift from God in the form of six days' delay. Do you
understand what I am saying, sweetheart? Eggardon's lag is very good news
indeed."

She understood. Miraculously, the
tears seemed to vanish and her expression took on the same warm glow that
colored Stephan's features.

"D-Duncan went to s-seek the
king's intervention?" she repeated with awe. "Good Lord, Stephan...
d-do you suppose Henry will actually dissolve the charges?"

Stephan's lazy smile was nothing
short of smug. "Breck and Father and Lady Margot believe they have the
advantage. But they do not expect that I would send Duncan to plea for Henry's
intercession. We have the advantage, I say."

Summer's mouth was open in
surprise. "Then Breck does not know of his brother's defection to aid our
cause?"

Stephan shook his head. "He
has apparently assumed Duncan to have returned to Crestwood. He's not made
mention of the man nor asked for him."

A soft, warm body suddenly flew
at him, all silk and hair. Summer giggled happily, hugging her brother tightly
enough to strangle him. "Oh, Stephan!" she gasped, kissing his cheek
loudly. "Y-You are wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!"

He hugged her tightly, his cheeks
mottled with a tender blush. "I realize that, of course," he said
with feigned arrogance, snorting with humor when she slapped him playfully.
"Now, let's go and see your husband. I'll wager he can use a bit of good
news, too."

CHAPTER
NINETEEN                                                

"You made mention of Bose de
Moray. Deliver your message and be done."

Duncan swallowed hard; nearly two
days of a blistering pace had brought him to the very halls of Windsor with the
most difficult battle yet to come. It had taken another two days to seek
audience with the king, pleading to anyone who would listen, demanding to speak
to Henry on Bose de Moray's behalf. Scarcely anyone paid him heed, one soldier
going so far as to kick him in the arse, until a small steward bearing food for
the king's chamber crossed Duncan's path. Immediately, Duncan saw his chance to
speak with Henry.

Not a wise choice, to be sure.
Knocking the man on the head, he proceeded to steal clothes that were far too
small for his large frame and, looking rather foolish in his confiscated
clothing, made way to the king's chambers with tray in hand. The household
guards, men who had once been under Bose's command, knew immediately that the
tall attendant was far too well-bred for servitude and accused him of being an
assassin. Looking down the end of a massive broadsword, Duncan began to
frantically recite his purpose in coming. And the nearly-screamed mention of
Bose's name had been enough to spare him.

As Duncan quickly discovered, the
name of de Moray's bore a good deal of weight within the halls of Windsor and
in little time he was waiting within a small private chamber, critically
watched over by two suspicious knights. One man, tall and blond with piercing
blue eyes, seemed particularly interested in his presence but Duncan ignored
him nervously, wondering if he would indeed be provided the chance to relay his
message to a king's advisor or if he were simply waiting for his own death.

After several hours of an uneasy
wait, the blond knight escorted him into a lavish solar populated by a few men
quite disinterested in the wide-eyed visitor. Urged on by the knightly escort,
Duncan had made his way to the opposite end of the room where two men sat
before diamond-paned glass windows. A game of chess sat between them, one man
small and red-haired, the other man massive with a great shorn skull. As Duncan
stood by with panting nervousness, the smaller man spoke without looking at
him.

"You made mention of Bose de
Moray. Deliver your message and be done."

Swallowing away his anxiety, Duncan
focused on the finely-clad young man. "I have a message for King Henry.
His former captain, Sir Bose de Moray, is in a good deal of trouble that
requires the king's assistance immediately."

"What sort of trouble?"

The shaved-head man moved a pawn
into position as Duncan answered the question. "He is accused of stealing
a woman, my lord. He is set to stand trial for the crime of thievery and the
necessity of royal intervention is imperative."

The fair-haired man did not look
up from his game board, instead, moving a knight to capture his opponent's
pawn. Only when the move was successfully accomplished did he look to the tall,
red-haired knight in stolen servant's clothing. One droopy eyelid gave the
youthful nobleman a dense appearance as he studied the oddly-clad warrior
intently.

"There is more to this story
than you are telling me. You will start at the beginning, please. And omit
nothing."

With another swallow and a deep
breath for courage, Duncan did as he was told. From the moment he was aware of
Bose's interest in the lady until the very second he himself fled Chaldon in
pursuit of the de Moray's pardon, Duncan made sure no detail was spared. The
small man listened carefully, going so far as to ignore the game before him as
he digested the messenger's words. When Duncan finished, the young man with the
heavy-lidded gaze continued to linger upon the anxious knight as if attempting
to ascertain the truth to his wild story.

"And you say it is your
brother determined to press charges of thievery against Bose?"

Duncan nodded shortly. "Aye,
my lord."

The young nobleman chewed his
lips thoughtfully. "And your name?"

"Sir Duncan Kerry, my
lord."

Several moments of unnerving
silence followed before the thin young lord returned to his game board as if he
had come to the conclusion that the tale presented had not been a message of
the utmost concern.

"Your story failed to
encompass everything this young knight is telling me, Dag," he said
casually, moving his bishop. "You merely said Bose had acted irrationally
and was in great need of my aid."

His large opponent watched the
game before him, calculating his next move. "Obviously, Your Grace, this
young knight is much closer to the problem than I am. If I'd known the entire
situation when my cousin had come to Salisbury, I surely would have beaten a
measure of sense into his thick skull."

Young King Henry snorted, his
first display of humor. "What makes you believe you would have been
successful? The Bose de Moray I knew was the epitome of stubborn confidence.
Within his own mind the man can do no wrong."

Dag nodded shortly. "And
within mine. Even if his actions were rash in stealing his ladylove, I cannot
condemn them as incorrect. What remains now is exonerating him of the apparent
charges against him." For the first time, the king's chess opponent looked
to the red-haired young knight and immediately, Duncan saw a faint resemblance
between the shave-scalped man and de Moray himself. Something about the black,
piercing eyes drew his attention as the massive man studied him closely.
"So your brother was the Lady Summer's betrothed?"

Duncan nodded slowly "Aye,
my lord."

Dag cocked an eyebrow. "Bose
called the man vile and unscrupulous. Is he?"

Again, Duncan nodded. "Aye,
my lord."

Grunting in acknowledgement, Dag
returned his attention to the game board just as Henry captured his second
knight. Dag growled in frustration. "An unfair move, Your Grace. I was
improperly distracted."

Henry smirked. "You are
improperly skilled. Cease your moaning and accept your defeat as a true man
would."

Growling again, Dag reached for
his chalice of wine. Taking a healthy swallow, he moved his bishop forward with
casual flair. "Then tell me, Your Grace; what is it you plan to do for my
cousin? I would wager to say he is in a good deal of trouble by now and in dire
need of your immediate assistance."