Sebastien did not know which of the Campbells called out, but his men yelled their own insults back at the accusation. A riot threatened. James instructed his men with a nod, and with swords drawn, they surrounded him and separated the others. Sebastien pushed his matted hair out of his face.
“We are here to seek the truth,” James said, looking at him. “Will you answer my questions?”
Sebastien did not reply, but James continued anyway. Holding out a small object, he asked, “Is this yours?”
Startled at seeing his mother’s cross in James’s possession, he nodded. “’Tis my mother’s.” The last time he’d seen it, it had been stored safely away in his trunk…along with his father’s ring.
“You see? The bastard gave us up to the MacDougalls!”
As more yelling and pushing began, James called out to them. “Hold! In the king’s name, hold!”
James walked to the table and brought back a document of some kind. He held it out to Sebastien. “Do you recognize this?”
Sebastien took it and peered at it. It was a letter to him from John of Lorne, and as he read it, he shook his head. “This is not mine.”
“They found it inside your tunic when they searched you. You are saying it is not yours?”
“It is not mine,” he repeated.
He could see that James was in a quandary—he wanted to believe him, but the evidence pointed to his guilt in this very serious matter of treason.
“We will hold him until the king arrives,” the Douglas called out loudly.
The Campbells argued, but there was nothing they could do here in the hall, outnumbered by James’s men.
“Sir Hugh, he is your prisoner until the king relieves you of him. Secure him and see to his needs.”
Hugh approached with Connor and Jamie and took him by the arms, helping him back to the south tower, but to the cell above where the Campbells had held him. While the two stood guard, Hugh left and brought back something dry for him to wear. After locking him in, Hugh stood at the door.
“Do not be a fool, Sebastien. We know you are not the traitor. Even James knows.”
“Do you?” he asked, as he stripped off the wet tunic and gown.
“And we know the most likely suspect, as well. Your life is at stake here.”
“My honor is at stake, Hugh. Nothing less than my honor.”
Hugh mumbled under his breath and banged on the door. “Do not protect her, Sebastien. Tell the truth and save yourself.”
He walked to the door and spoke quietly to his friend. “I am nothing without my honor, Hugh. We have fought together long enough for you to know that I keep my word.”
“Aye, but you pledged to the king. What about that oath?” When he did not answer, Hugh asked, “Do you truly think that they will let her live?”
“Nay, not for long, once their purpose is attained.”
“So you admit that you protect her?”
“To you? Aye,” he answered. “But, if the king believes that Lara is in a plot with her father, he will have no choice but to kill the children as an example to those who would defy him and break their truces. Hostages are worthless if they are left alive after betrayal.” With a great amount of pain and difficulty, Sebastien finished dressing in the dry clothes.
“What will you do?”
“Once I know that she is safe, nothing at all. The king will draw whatever conclusions he must from the evidence.”
“Safe? How will you know that?”
“Surely, Hugh, you know that all spies have a contingency plan?”
“My lady? My lady? Please wake up,” the quiet voice said in the darkness.
