“Do you know why we have been summoned?” Gaston finally turned from the window.
Henry lounged comfortably, appearing almost bored. “I do not. I suppose they must have come to some snappish conclusion and intend to deliver it to us personally.”
Gaston stomach’s plunged. His palms were sweaty. “They’ll not permit the annulment. The law of the church will outweigh all of the compelling testimony given. God above all, including the laws of mercy and love.”
Henry shushed him, knowing there were ears everywhere. Gaston knew it, too, but he did not care. “Have faith, Gaston. You cannot know what conclusion they have come to.”
Gaston turned back to the window, his jaw ticking with agitation. After a moment, he shook his head. “I have known all along what their answer would be, but I had hoped…aye, I have prayed that they would reconsider given the extreme circumstances.”
Henry contemplated the rings on his hand. “Have faith, Gaston.”
Christopher Urswick stood in the shadows, listening. Gaston was right, he knew. The church had gathered them together to deliver what de Russe suspected. An annulment was impossible with both spouses still living, and a divorce was completely out of the question. This had been a futile endeavor from the inception, but Henry had gone along because of what Gaston meant to him and he felt he had to put forth the effort.
Urswick pitied the Dark Knight, and the lady. To love each other so terribly, but to be forever denied matrimony was tragic at best.
On the far end of the room, a huge carved oak door swung open with a groan. Three men spilled forth, all dressed in lavish garments, all various ages. The tall young man that stopped just inside the door passed an eye at Gaston; he met Peter Courtenay’s eyes steadily. Courtenay lowered his gaze hesitantly and took up station against the wall, silent and out of the way.
Archbishop Thomas Bourchier sat with a grunt behind his elaborate cherry wood desk, dark with stain and time. His aged face was thin and pale, belying the man’s power. He almost appeared docile and dense. Behind him, a young, dark-haired man stood stoically. John of Imola was the apostolic delegate, a man with a direct line to Pope Innocent. He was very young for aman in his position, but he was extremely bright and wise, which he had more than proven during the weeks of testimony.
Bourchier gazed at Gaston standing over by the thin windows. Somewhere in the cathedral, the monk’s choir was rehearsing the sweet strains of haunting music floated faintly on the air. Gaston merely gazed back unemotionally.
Bourchier cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming.”
“Get on with it, Thomas,” Henry said, almost unkindly.
Bourchier’s eyes flicked to the monarch as Christopher came out of the shadows to stand behind his king. Gaston remained by the windows.
“Very well,” the archbishop said with a matched tone. “As you know, divorce is forbidden by the church. Annulments are granted only in extreme cases with the provision of severe circumstances. The papal board has heard the testimony on behalf of Lady Remington Stoneley and I must be honest when I say that the collective board feels that the basis of the annulment request is weak. Unless Lady Stoneley herself can provide more substantial evidence, your request will be rejected.”
Gaston moved away from the wall. “You are telling me, in essence, that the testimony of five reputable barons, all stating to the effect that Guy Stoneley was an evil, cruel barbarian, is insufficient? My God, what kind of evidence is it that you require? Irreversible damage to Lady Stoneley, or her family?”
“Gaston,” Henry admonished quietly, turning back to the archbishop. “I suspected that this would be the church’s reaction from the beginning, and I am not surprised. If sworn testimony will not bring Lady Stoneley her annulment, then you may name your price. I am willing to pay what you ask on Gaston’s behalf.”
Bourchier’s eyes widened briefly. “An annulment cannot be bought, my lord.”
“Ha,” Henry snorted softly. “Anything can be bought within the church, Thomas, and you cannot pretend otherwise. What is it that you will demand? Well?”
John of Imola stepped forward, his almost-babyish face concerned. “Annulments are not to be bought and sold as a commodity. You are speaking of dissolving what God has created.”
“God did not create this marriage,” Gaston rumbled. “This is the devil’s doing, and he continues to delight in the torment of an innocent woman and her sisters.”
“That is your opinion, my lord,” the legate responded pointedly. “You see what you will, considering you are in love with the woman. Even as it stands, you are breaking the tenth commandment with your lust for her, and I suspect you have already broken the fourth.”
Gaston did not flinch, but the vein in his temple throbbed faintly. “We are not here to speak of what I have or have not done. We are speaking of Lady Stoneley.”
“Will she be able to enlighten us further on this matter?” Bourchier asked, drawing Gaston’s hostile attention away from the legate. “Or will it be a waste of time for all concerned?”
Gaston looked at the archbishop, feeling a lie coming forth, demanding to be released. A lie Remington started, a lie that de Tormo threatened to use when all else failed. Gaston could see that Remington’s annulment was slipping through his fingers, and he prayed that God would forgive him for lying to a man of the cloth, and furthermore not punish him by having his story backfire in his face.
“It will not be a waste of time, for she will testify to a distasteful fact that not even the barons knew of,” he said quietly. “Guy Stoneley worships the devil. I have seen his sanctuary for myself; a pentagram decorates the wall, and skin-bound books line the shelves. His worship of Satan explains his deviant actions and bloodlust towards his family.”
Bourchier and John looked at each other, then back to Gaston. “Do you have proof of this?”
“Father de Tormo saw the sanctuary himself. He will testify to that fact.”
Peter Courtenay moved from his spot along the wall. “Are you sure, Gaston?”
“Aye,” Gaston nodded, having difficulty looking his friend in the eye. “Pentagrams, potions and other strange medicaments. He is a student of Satan.”
