Peter shook his head. “The council has enough faith in de Tormo that they will take him for his word. Besides, he signed his name in his own blood, which is as good as swearing on the name of the all mighty. Better, in fact. De Tormo will be well-rewarded in heaven for his loyalty.”
Gaston felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach on de Tormo’s behalf. As Remington said, the man was most likely roasting in the sulfur lake for his lie. Only a select few mortals would know of his great sacrifice.
He turned away from the bishop, relief flooding him like nothing he had ever tasted. De Tormo had been right all along, about everything. He knew how the council would react to hissigned revelation, sparing Remington and her sisters the horror of testifying.
By God, the manknew.
Months of testimony on Remington’s behalf had failed to convince the council to provide an annulment. Brimley, Ingilsby, Sir Alfred Tarrington all had been unable to convince the church that Guy Stoneley was nothing short of a demon himself. Gaston’s testimony had been inadmissible because he was in love with the woman. Henry couldn’t vouch for Remington and was therefore useless, except to bully the church on Gaston’s behalf.
All of the worry and agony was now finally coming to a conclusion and Gaston could scarce believe it; if all went well, by next month, Remington would be the duchess of Warminster.
He shuddered with joy at the thought of calling her his wife. He would use the term liberally, freely, with every other breath. He had waited too long not to.
So miracles were possible, after all. Mayhap if he thanked God this night, the Lord would finally hear him. And he would pray for de Tormo’s soul in the process.
“What about me? Is there still to be testimony on my behalf?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“Why?” Peter shrugged. “They know you and your reputation, Gaston. There is nothing anyone could say that could convince them that you would be any less than a grand husband for her.”
Gaston slanted him a glance. “What of the business of my betraying Richard? Surely that scars my character.”
“I told them what happened,” Henry said from his chair. When Gaston turned surprised eyes to his king, Henry nodded affirmatively. “They know of Richard’s liaison with your wife, how he humiliated you. And they know that you disapproved ofthe murder of his nephews. They understand that you could not serve such an immoral man.”
Gaston was surprised. “And when did your testimony come about?”
“Right before Guy’s,” Henry rose wearily, weaving a bit. “My spies told me that Guy was going to present a piteous, wretched case and I wanted to balance it with statements on your behalf. Do not look so angry, Gaston. I did what was necessary, and you know it.”
Gaston wasn’t angry, simply off-guard. He cleared his throat in a nervous gesture, combing his fingers through his dark hair. “Then I thank you, my lord.”
Henry looked at his Dark Knight, the most powerful warrior he commanded. But even Gaston was humbled by the church and the laws of God, as was the king. The fact that the annulment was near approval was an absolute miracle, and they all had de Tormo to thank for it.
But Gaston did not ever truly clarify if the charges were true; Henry would not ask. He did not want to know, being a party to a lie of cataclysmic repercussions. He did not want God to blame him for knowing too much.
Silence settled in the room as the conversation lulled. While Henry went to pour himself his third goblet of wine, Peter moved to Gaston hesitantly.
“I hope you can forgive me for what has happened, Gaston,” he said softly. “We were friends once, you and I. Whatever happened with Lady Remington’s annulment was with the church alone and beyond my scope.”
My friend, Gaston thought. “We’re still friends, Peter. Your help has been invaluable.”
Peter’s fair face relaxed and his smile blossomed. “I have tried, truly,” he lowered his voice. “I’d grant you the damnannulment if it were in my power, church or no. Especially after Guy’s testimony yesterday.”
Gaston raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Peter shook his head in disgust. “The man’s entire statement was a farce. I have never seen so much blatant dribbling, pleading and carrying-on. It was embarrassing to say the least, but John and Thomas listened to every word. They believed him, even if the rest of us did not.”
“What’s this I hear that Henry is being pressured into releasing him?”
“True enough. The papal council feels Stoneley had been unfairly singled out and punished. To release him would be to make restitution.”
Gaston snorted. “Restitution, is it? They feel he’s been treated wrongly because of what he possesses. Have they forgotten that the man is a prisoner of the crown?”
Peter shrugged. “He is married to Remington and you want her, and they know Henry will stop at nothing to grant you your desire. Prisoner or not.”
Gaston let out a repugnant sigh. What a mixed-up, chaotic mess he was involved in.
Peter moved to Henry and Gaston moved away from the group, standing in front of a narrow window and feeling the cool evening on his face. Remington, a few miles away at the Tower, filled his mind even as the wind caressed him, and he found himself imagining the gentle fingers of the breeze were hers somehow. If he closed his eyes, he could literally feel her.
*
