True Love (37 page)

“Catherine is present at my request. She will
tell part of our story,” Royce said.

“Then let her stay. Braedon,” the king said,
his smile widening, “you look to be in good health. But, Cadwallon,
my boy, what has happened to your arm and your nose? Well, Desmond,
at least you appear to be uninjured. All of you are welcome.” The
king's attention moved on from the knights who were his agents to
the men who stood at the back of the room in chains, guarded by
Royce's men-at-arms. Catherine noted how Henry's pleasant face
hardened and his mouth settled into a hard line.

“Aelfric,” the king said to the clerk who was
escort for Royce's company, “see to your ink, take up your quill,
and write down what is said here. I will want a full and accurate
record.”

“Yes, my lord.” Aelfric hastened to obey.

“Now, then,” Henry said to Royce, “tell me
everything and leave nothing out.”

“My lord king!” Phelan tried to step forward,
but he was prevented from approaching the king by the man-at-arms
who was his guard. He spoke over the guard's shoulder, his words
conveying a desperate urgency. “Royce will make false charges
against me, forgetting in his zeal to serve you that I am his close
relative. There is no reason why I should be held in chains. I
cannot tolerate the insult to my honor. You know that I have long
been your loyal servant; therefore, I implore you to command these
chains to be stricken from my wrists and ankles.”

“Enough. You may speak later.” Henry barely
raised one hand and Phelan went still. “I will hear what Royce has
to say.”

“My lord,” Royce began, “as you commanded me
in February, and with the assistance of these three knights, whom
you assigned to help me, rumors of certain intrigues aimed at
influencing your choice of an heir have been fully investigated.
Once I knew who was involved in the intrigues, I invited all of
them to Wortham, to visit for two weeks. While they were in my home
I was able to talk with them as friends and to determine where
their true loyalties lie.

“I have concluded, and the knights who worked
with me agree, that only a few of those who were my guests are out
and out traitors. Most of the men whose good faith was in question
are driven by loyalties that waver because they own lands in France
as well as in England and Normandy. I do honestly believe they are
willing to renew their oaths of fealty to you.”

“Provide their names,” Henry ordered, and
listened attentively while Royce recited the list and Aelfric wrote
it down.

“Those noblemen will have the opportunity to
come to me and explain themselves, and to swear their oaths anew,”
Henry said. “If they do so, they will not be punished. Please
continue, Royce.”

“As for the two whom we have brought to stand
before you today,” Royce said, “Phelan has repeatedly used my name
and his relationship by marriage to me as a way of recruiting
nobles who otherwise would never have joined his intrigues. In
several instances, Phelan led honest men to believe that I was
secretly representing you, sire.”

“I can explain,” Phelan shouted. He tried to
step forward, but again the man-at-arms guarding him prevented him
from getting near the king.

“Phelan, you will remain silent while Royce
speaks,” King Henry commanded, “or I will have you removed from the
chamber and you will not hear the charges made against you.”

“This is all Achard's fault,” Eustace
muttered. “Where is he? Why isn't he present to answer charges?” He
stopped grumbling when the king turned a stern eye on him.

“Eustace does ask a reasonable question,”
Henry said, “one that I was about to ask. Where is Achard?”

“That, my lord, is the conclusion of the tale
we have come here to tell you,” Royce answered.

“Tell it, then.” The king leaned back against
the table, half sitting on it, and nodded to Aelfric to keep
recording what was said.

“Before Achard left his estates in Normandy,”
Royce said, “he wrote to me asking for my daughter's hand. I knew
Achard was in need of a wife with a large dowry, and on the surface
of it, the offer seemed reasonable enough. However, Achard and I
had undertaken missions together for you in the recent past, during
which I began to suspect him of serious duplicity. I have now
uncovered proof that he was working for King Louis of France, as
well as for you.”

“Are you accusing Achard of being a double
agent?” Henry asked in astonishment. He looked from face to face
for confirmation, ending with his gaze fixed on Braedon.

“Royce and I, at different times, have both
intercepted letters that prove the charge,” Braedon said. “I
believe Royce is carrying the letters with him, to offer as
indisputable proof. Royce decided to allow Achard to court Lady
Catherine in hope of gaining his full confidence, so he could learn
who were Achard's accomplices, and gather proof against them,
too.”

“Achard attempted to rape me.” Catherine
spoke up boldly, not mincing words as she seized the opportunity to
show Braedon as courageous and honest. “Sir Braedon's timely
arrival prevented Achard from completing his wicked deed. Later,
Achard abducted me when he thought my father was dead, and he
locked me in the dungeon at Wortham, where I stayed until Sir
Braedon rescued me a second time.”

Bit by bit the events of the Whitsuntide
festival were told, with Catherine, Aldis, and Gwendolyn all adding
their parts. They had been warned by Royce not to mention Achard's
death until he was ready to reveal it, and so none of them spoke of
it.

“These are my conclusions,” Royce said to the
king when the tale was ended. “Achard was in grave need of
Catherine's large dowry, but that wasn't all he coveted. He
believed that if I were dead, you would appoint him as chief of
your private agents. Achard was delighted when he thought Braedon
had stabbed me, for that deed eliminated the problem of how Achard
was going to kill me while appearing innocent of my death.

“As your most important agent, Achard
expected to be ideally situated to pass information to King Louis
of France,” Royce continued, “and to pass false information to you
from Louis. Nor do I doubt that he would have reversed the process
if it served his ambition, and given you true information that he
had from Louis, while he sent falsehoods to Louis from you.”

“Achard and Phelan conspired together,”
Braedon added to Royce's summation, “with Eustace as a willing
accomplice. The three of them met in secret at Wortham fair, and
they met again later, inside Wortham Castle. But I think Phelan and
Achard suspected each other of duplicity. Each man was certainly
working for his own ends.”

“If Achard has told you this, he is lying,”
Phelan shouted. “He and I are friends, that is all. Bring Achard
into this room and let him tell his side of the story. He will bear
me out.”

“It was my impression,” Braedon said to
Phelan with a hint of amusement in his voice, “that you and Achard
were in competition to determine who was in charge of your
conspiracy.”

“This is preposterous!” Phelan said to the
king.

“Braedon,” Henry said, “where is Achard? From
all I've heard, I assume he is one of your prisoners.”

Braedon sent a quick look toward Royce.
Receiving an abrupt nod in response, he revealed the final pieces
of the sorry tale.

“Achard tried to escape,” Braedon answered
the king. “He injured one of Royce's men-at-arms, and then he
attacked me with a stolen sword. I killed him, my lord. Achard is
dead.”

“I don't believe you!” Phelan yelled,
straining against his chains.

“When he lay dying,” Braedon went on, “I
asked Achard about a few details of his scheme that Royce and I had
not yet confirmed. Achard admitted to everything, including the
participation of Phelan and Eustace. When I asked why he had done
it, he whispered with almost his last breath that kings can be made
to pay for important information.”

In the silence that followed Braedon's speech
Phelan collapsed like a bladder with the air let out of it, folding
in upon himself, all the blustering assurance gone. As for Eustace,
he looked from his father to Braedon with an expression of helpless
confusion, and offered not one word of his usual surly
intransigence.

“Well, Lord Phelan?” the king said into the
somber quiet. “What response can you possibly make to these charges
that will not brand you a traitor to me?”

“I will tell you what I know.” Phelan sounded
like a man completely broken. “Every word that Royce and Braedon
have spoken is true. Achard has been acting as King Louis' agent,
as well as your spy.”

“How do you know this?” King Henry asked.

“Achard told me. He tried to recruit me and
my son to help him,” Phelan said, reviving enough to offer his
frequently repeated claim to glory. “Achard said I was valuable to
him because I am so closely related to Royce. My daughter is
married to Royce's son, you see.”

“I am aware of your daughter's marriage,”
Henry said with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, “and aware also of
the use you have made of that alliance. The plain fact is, Phelan,
you conspired with Achard against me.”

“No, my lord.” Phelan's chained hands shook
as he extended them toward the king. “It is just that I am deeply
concerned, as are many other of your noblemen, about the question
of who will follow you as ruler of England and Normandy. All men
die eventually, my lord, and kings more than most men must take
thought to what will happen after they are gone from this
life.”

“Indeed.” King Henry folded his arms, looking
solemn. “Do you imagine that I have not given thought to the
matter?”

“N-no, my lord,” Phelan answered.

“Do you think I have not discussed with my
trusted councilors what ought to be done in regard to choosing an
heir?”

“Of course, my lord, but honest men want to
be reassured that there will not be war when you – when you—”

“When I die,” King Henry finished for him.
“It's true, Phelan, honest men are concerned. But you are not an
honest man. Nor is your son.”

“My lord, Eustace and I have both sworn
fealty to you,” Phelan protested.

“I know exactly what your oaths mean,” Henry
said. He took a long breath and drew himself up. “This is my
judgment.

“Phelan, your lands in Sutton, and your
estate in Normandy are hereby confiscated, to be held in trust by
the crown until I choose to bestow them elsewhere. I include in
this judgment the manor that is Eustace's holding from his late
mother.”

“But, how shall we live without land?” Phelan
cried, while Eustace stared as if he could not believe what he was
hearing.

“You will have no need of land,” Henry said
sternly, “for you will be gone from England, and from Normandy, as
quickly as possible. Royce's men-at-arms will conduct you to the
nearest seaport. From there you will be placed on board a ship and
sent into permanent exile.”

“Exile?” Phelan repeated, as if he was unable
to comprehend what the king was saying. “How? Where?”

“I care not where or how,” Henry answered
him, “so long as you never return to any of the lands I rule. If
it's advice you want, then I suggest you undertake a humble
pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to atone for your many sins.”

“But, my lord, this is not right,” Eustace
cried.

“It is fairer treatment than you deserve,”
Henry said in a hard voice. “Excuse it how you will, both of you
have betrayed your oaths of fealty to me. I do not require your
lives from you for the very reason you have used so often to your
own advantage: because you are closely related by marriage to Royce
of Wortham, who is my true friend.

“Take them away,” Henry commanded the
men-at-arms. “I want them out of my sight.” He stood silently until
Phelan, Eustace, and their guards were gone.

“A sorry business,” Henry said, “but I thank
all of you here for your honest work in my behalf. I will not
forget what you have done. Royce, is that the end of your
report?”

“No, my lord,” Royce said. “I have another
matter to bring to your attention.”

“With your permission,” Royce said to King
Henry, “I would like to present a lady to you.”

“Very well.” Henry looked puzzled, but
relieved to have the dreadful business of traitors and double
agents over and done with.

“He must mean Lady Edith,” Aldis whispered
from behind Catherine's shoulder. “Oh, Catherine, he
is
going to marry her.”

“I'm afraid you are right,” Catherine
whispered back.

Royce left the room, returning a few moments
later with Lady Edith. Her fingers rested lightly upon his wrist,
her chin was held high, and a proud and happy smile played upon her
lips.

Directly behind her came the tall lady whom
Catherine had seen earlier and thought she knew. The mysterious
woman stayed quietly near the door, as if she did not want to be
noticed, though she nodded politely when Catherine's eyes met
hers.

Meanwhile, Lady Edith was taking note of all
the people in the room, and her smile deepened. She swept into a
graceful curtsey before the king, then stood at Royce's side,
looking pleased.

“Well, well,” said King Henry, smiling back
at the lovely young widow as if he guessed what was to come, “what
have we here, Royce?”

“What we have, my lord,” said Royce, “is one
of the cruelest, most cold-hearted murderers and traitors in all of
your realms.”

“What?” Lady Edith snatched her hand away
from Royce's and took a step backward. “Royce, is this some sorry
joke? Or have you gone mad?”

“Explain yourself, Royce,” King Henry
ordered.

“This is the person who entered my bedchamber
at Wortham for the purpose of putting poison into my wine,” Royce
said. “Achard stole the hellebore from Braedon's room. He passed it
to Lady Edith, who slipped it into my cup while she was attempting
to seduce me.”