The Gorgon (46 page)

Henry nodded faintly,
contemplating his next course of action. "I remember when I first met your
cousin, Dag. The two of you were serving Hubert de Burgh shortly before he
resigned his post as Chancellor. Whereas your cousin proceeded to swear fealty
to me, you took your vows before the church. Do you remember?"

"I do," Dag replied,
pretending to be more interested in the game than the conversation at hand. In
faith, however, he was very much concerned with the conversation; he had spoken
of nothing else for the past two days. But try as he might, he could not
convince Henry of the seriousness of the situation; apparently, the king
believed Bose impervious to bad judgment or the prosecution of mere mortals.

With the added support of the
red-haired knight's stories, Henry was finally coming to grasp the seriousness
of the situation and Dag thanked God for the unexpected appearance of the
persistent Duncan Kerry. For certain, his prayers for an advocate to his cause
had been and he continued to stress his point as non-threateningly as he could
manage.

"I also recall how quickly
Bose rose within the ranks, following in Uncle Garret's footsteps. He was
Captain of the Household Guard at the tender age of twenty-eight years and you
relied upon him tremendously," a bushy black eyebrow slowly lifted.
"Surely his loyalty to you during that time has earned a measure of your
Divine Grace?"

Henry sighed, moving a pawn and
avoiding the question put to him. "I wish he were still with me, although
his successor is a brilliant replacement," he directed his statement to
the tall blond knight lingering in the shadows. "You've long known my
feelings, Olav. Bose was a friend."

The silent knight with the sharp
blue eyes nodded faintly. "He was my friend as well, Your Grace. When he
left, I would have gone with him had you not convinced me otherwise."

"You mean had I not
threatened your very life," Henry muttered, laughing softly when Olav's
agreed. "God's Blood, the man took my finest knights with him when he
departed; Morgan, Tate, Farl, Adgar. Even old Artur. I was rather fond of the
aged bastard."

Dag made a foolish move,
purposely intended to end the game. "Uncle Artur is a unique soul. Christ,
he shall probably outlive us all," eyeing the king as the man counted the
move, he pretended to study the board. "And he will most definitely
outlive Bose if you do not do something to help him. Soon, I would
suspect."

Henry studied the game board as
well, drumming his fingertips on the table. After a moment, he looked to
Duncan, slightly calmer than he had been upon first entering the stuffy
chamber. "When you left, Bose was still on the run?"

Duncan nodded swiftly. "Aye,
Your Grace. That was four days ago and I have no way of knowing what has
happened in that time."

Henry returned his attention to
the game as Dag foolishly left his queen unguarded. "Four days is a long
time," he said, easily capturing his opponent's primary piece. "I do
suppose I should ride to Dorset and absolve Bose of these charges, which, as I
would understand, are not entirely righteous."

"They are not, Your
Grace," Duncan said quickly, feeling his first genuine surge of hope in
four days. "My brother coerced the lady's father into breaking his word to
Sir Bose. She belonged to de Moray first and certainly, if there is anyone to
charge with thievery, it should be my brother. He is attempting to take what
does not belong to him."

Henry scratched his head wearily,
motioning for the board and table to be taken away. When hovering servants
cleared the debris, the king focused on Dag's serious face. "Although Bose
may have the church on his side for his legal marriage to the lady, it would
seem that his foe has the law in his support. He holds the legal betrothal contract,
not your cousin, and has every right to prosecute for stolen property."

Dag knew this, nodding in
agreement to the king's assessment. "But if the situation is as Sir Duncan
presents it, Breck Kerry isn't interested in Summer personally. Simply the
opportunity to gain vengeance against Bose by threatening what is most precious
to him; his lady wife," with a sigh, he scratched his stubbled scalp.
"Mayhap an agreement could be reached between the two men; monetary
compensation for the dissolution of all charges. Or land compensation of some
sort for the loss of a promised bride."

"Breck doesn't want money or
land, my lord," Duncan interrupted softly. "He wants to destroy Bose
by using the lady against him. He even told me that once he marries the lady,
he shall simply do away with her because he has no real use for her. The only
matter of import to my brother is defeating de Moray any way his is able. Since
he cannot beat him upon the tournament field, he seeks to emotionally ruin
him."

Henry stared at him, his droopy
eye a distracting element to his overall commanding aura. "Why would he do
this? What crime has Bose committed against this man that would cause him to
seek such horrific revenge?"

Duncan shrugged faintly. "In
truth, I believe it to be nothing more than professional jealousy. Breck
considered himself the best knight upon the tournament circuit until the
appearance of Bose de Moray. Now, he is lucky to run a close second. Third,
even. And he cannot stomach the constant humiliation."

Henry pursed his lips
thoughtfully, looking to Dag with equal seriousness. "'Twould seem that
this situation deepens by the moment. Certainly you nagging requests that I
ride to Bose's aid did nothing to fully convey the seriousness of the
circumstance."

Dag cocked an eyebrow. "Fine,
fine, so I nag like an old Fishwife," he grumbled, causing Henry to smile.
"And you ignored me quite soundly. The more you disregarded my prattle,
the more I was forced to nag."

Henry snickered, moving to rise
from his overstuffed chair. Duncan watched the king intently, a young man of
twenty-eight years but wise beyond his age. Assuming the throne of England at
the tender age of nine had the distinct ability to mature one too rapidly and
Henry bore the characteristics of his premature development. His movements, his
manners, were of an older, more experienced man.

"Although I can hardly spare
the time to make the journey to Dorset, I shall endeavor to do so for Bose's
sake," glancing to Olav still lodged against the wall, he issued his orders
with the confidence of a man who had giving commands for most of his life.
"Prepare an escort immediately. I want a full complement of knights and
soldiers assembled in the bailey within the hour."

"Shall I prepare a royal
coach, Your Grace?"

Henry shook his head. "I
shall ride. Ready my steed."

Olav bowed swiftly and was gone,
leaving Dag and Duncan to sigh with relief. Two men who had never met until
this moment, both in support of the same cause, were about to see the results
of their determination and the thanks upon their weary lips ran far too deep
for words.  When Henry turned away from the two men and began to converse
quietly with one of his advisors, Dag rose from his chair and faced an
exhausted, but hopeful, Duncan.

Duncan openly studied the massive
man, noting his ecclesiastical robes for the first time. He gestured toward the
coarse woolen garment.

"Forgive me, Father. I did
not know you were of the cloth and have addressed you improperly during the
course of our conversation."

Dag shrugged faintly. "Do
you think I shave my head in this fashion because I like it?" when Duncan
grinned, Dag took a moment to scrutinize the knight more closely. "So you
are Asa Kerry's youngest son? I knew your father once, very well."

Duncan nodded briefly. "As I
have understood. My father was very proud of his service to de Burgh."

Dag smiled in remembrance.
"We were all proud to have served the mighty chancellor to three kings. My
calling, however, eventually took me to a higher court," he cocked an
eyebrow at the younger Kerry brother, studying the man who resembled his
strawberry-haired sire a great deal. "So tell me, Duncan Kerry; did you
come of your own accord to seek Henry's help for my cousin or did someone send
you?"

"The lady's brother, Sir
Stephan du Bonne, asked that I come," Duncan replied steadily. "But I
was more than willing, considering my brother has caused this chaos."

A bit more informed as to the
young knight's appearance, Dag cast a long glance at the king. "I never
thought he would go to Bose personally. I knew he would send a missive granting
the man absolution, but I never truly believed he would personally ride to my
cousin's assistance."

Duncan had always been in awe of
the dark and mysterious Bose de Moray. But knowing that he had royal power at
his command somehow validated the myth of the legendary Gorgon.

"The king obviously thinks
of good deal of Sir Bose," Duncan said, scratching his arm where the
too-small uniform chaffed him. "I had no idea de Moray held such power. I
am positive my brother was unaware as well, for surely, he would not have moved
against him as he has done."

Dag looked to the young knight
once again, his black eyes appraising. "I do not even know your brother
and already I am made aware of his foolishness.  Pray that he has not harmed my
cousin in our absence, for certainly, Henry's wrath shall be swift."

Duncan sighed heavily, watching
as a roomful of men and counselors suddenly moved about with a sense of purpose
as the king's travel plans were announced. "He deserves whatever Henry
delivers, Father," he said softly. "I hold no pity for him."

Dag stared at the youthful
knight. "Nor do I, lad," he rumbled slowly. "Nor do I."

***

The grand hall of Chaldon was
eerily silent considering the crowd of nervous people sitting in residence. The
sun was preparing to set on the sixth day of Bose's confinement, the soft
tendrils of orange light caressing the stone walls as the last rays of
illumination faded into night.

Lord Bruce Eggardon sat on the
dais usually occupied by the mighty du Bonne family, his chin resting wearily
in his large hand. Once a proud warrior, years of declining health had taken
their toll on the once-powerful man. His blond hair was yellowed with age, his
faded green eyes lined with fatigue as his sharp gaze raked the room and
surroundings. And most interesting surroundings they were.

The du Bonne party sat on the
right side of the room; three brothers, the eldest brother's wife, and the very
reason for the proceedings seated in the center of the group clad in a lovely
pink surcoat. A beautiful girl, the Lady Summer, as Bruce had noted upon his
arrival not an hour earlier. Being Edward du Bonne's liege, he'd never known
the man had a daughter and as the details of the situation were again relayed
to refresh his memory, he could recall thinking that Bose de Moray wasn't such
a fool after all. In his opinion, the lady was well worth the risk.

Opinion or not, however, the fact
remained that Breck Kerry was intent to bring very serious charges against Sir
Bose. De Moray's men sat with the du Bonne siblings, massive men with grim
faces who seemed as protective of the young lady as her brothers. And the Kerry
Clan, joined oddly enough by Edward du Bonne, sat to the extreme left of the
room. As if an invisible barrier divided the two opposing sides with
razor-sharp intensity, Bruce was eager to be done with the unpleasantness.

Tearing his gaze away from the du
Bonne and de Moray party, the Marquis of Cerne looked to his vassal, Baron
Lulworth, and motioned the man forward with a flick of his wrist.

"Are we prepared to
begin?" he demanded quietly. "I made it clear that I would not
tolerate any delays. If you want the man tried, let's get on with it."

Edward nodded quickly. "He's
being brought from the vault as we speak, my lord. We are quite prepared to
commence."

Bruce nodded impatiently,
accepting a chalice offered to him by his manservant. Smacking his lips as he
swallowed the fortifying ale, his attention was diverted by the sounds of armor
and distant voices. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lady de Moray
rising to her feet and Bruce was aware the appearance of her husband was at
hand.

Among the approaching red and
white clad soldiers, a massive black-haired prisoner came into view dressed in
simple breeches and tunic. Forbidden access to his armor, the enormous warrior
appeared uncomfortable without it.

Nonetheless, the prisoner assumed
his place respectfully before the Marquis of Cerne, his black eyes focused on
the man who would preside over his trial. Breck Kerry stood several feet from
the man accused of stealing his betrothed, his pimpled face taut with emotion
as Bruce faced the two opposing factions with veiled impatience. In spite of
his fatigue and failing health, the Marquess' voice was steady.

"Announce yourselves to
me."

Breck was the first to speak.
"Sir Breck Kerry, Lord of Crestwood. This man is accused of stealing my
bride."

Bose's reply was even. "I am
Sir Bose de Moray, my lord. The lady I married was betrothed to me before her
contract to Kerry was established."

Bruce's gaze moved between the
two men; he had met Breck upon his arrival to Chaldon, a high-strung knight
with an unruly mouth. But he had yet to meet de Moray, the accused, and his
first impression of the man was one of calm and control. His interest was
directed towards the prisoner.