“Oh, my dear Sir Niall, how relieved I am to see you!” She did not find it difficult to put a tearful waver in her voice, for the urge to weep had been strong since Hacon had been taken away from her. “I have come to be with my husband, to speak for him in this desperate hour, yet this brute willnae even believe I am Hacon’s wife.” She started to frown when the expression on his face became one of amusement.
“Ye play the part verra weel,” he drawled.
“What part?” She straightened, knowing what he meant but hoping to bluff her way through.
“The pose of a poor, teary-eyed woman who cannae do aught without a mon’s aid.”
“Sir Niall,” she cried in outrage, “I should ne’er do that, nor should I wish to.”
“Weel, ye were making a verra good start. What goes on here?” he demanded of the guard.
“This wench demands to see the king.”
“This ‘wench’ is Lady Jennet Gillard to you,” Sir Niall said, his voice icy, then he turned from the flushing guard to look Jennet over. “Even though she looks a rather dirty wench from some poor bothy.”
“Thank you,” she snapped, yanking her hand from his arm. “Ye are as gallant as always.” She glared at the guard, who did not look either cowed or mollified by the proof that she was who she had said she was. “So, ye must let me in.”
“Nay, he doesnae,” Sir Niall replied before the guard could speak. “This is no place for a woman.”
“I am Hacon’s wife, curse you. I must speak in Hacon’s defense.”
“The mon is a traitor.” Sir Niall crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the gray stone wall.
“He is no traitor and weel ye ken it!” She noticed that both Niall and Bearnard avoided her gaze for a moment.
“What can ye do, save watch him die, or is that why ye are here?” Sir Niall finally asked.
Jennet felt the blood drain from her face. She suspected she looked ill, for Elizabeth was suddenly at her side, and Sir Bearnard took a hesitant step toward her as well. Sir Niall cursed and looked fleetingly ashamed of himself.
“I came to try and bring him down from the gallows,” Jennet insisted. “It was clear nomonwould speak out for him.” Both Sir Bearnard and Sir Niall briefly looked guilty again. “One of the things held against him are wordsIsaid. If I can lessen the sting of that accusation, mayhaps the others will be seen for the twisted lies that they are.”
“And mayhaps ye will find yourself accused alongside your husband,” Sir Bearnard said in a quiet voice.
“That is a chance I must take. Hacon is innocent. Ye both ken it.” Watching Sir Niall closely when he frowned and hesitated to respond, she added, “If I am successful and Hacon is exonerated, the one who aids me in getting to the king could be seen as having saved Hacon’s life. That would certainly clear away all and any debts, monetary—or otherwise.”
Sir Niall abruptly straightened, cursed, and eyed her with annoyance. “I wondered when ye would begin to speak of debts.”
She shrugged. “I thought ye might have forgotten.”
“How I ache to. All right, I shall go and seek an audience with the king. I will try to get him to let you speak for your husband.”
“Thank ye,” she said, but he had already headed into the hall and used that as an excuse to ignore her.
“Lady Jennet?” Sir Bearnard gave her a look of guilt-tinged sympathy when she turned to face him. “I pray ye succeed, for I am sure Sir Gillard is innocent.” He shrugged. “I fear that when charges of treason are flung, most men think only of standing clear of it.”
“For all my harsh words, Sir Bearnard, I do understand. ’Tis just that I have no choice. I thank ye for your belief in my husband. I but pray I can convince others to share it.”
It seemed like hours before Sir Niall returned, yet she knew that only a brief time had passed. She clasped her hands together and watched as he strode over to her. Although she wanted to present a calm facade, she knew her hope was clear to read on her face.
“Did ye plead my cause?” she asked when he stood before her.
“I should like to say aye so I could be sure ye couldnae hurl that matter of debt at me ever again. Howbeit, the king was calling for advocates for Sir Gillard when I entered the court. I said I knew someone who wished to speak in his favor, and the king ordered me to bring that person in.” He took her by the arm. “Are ye going to swoon?” he asked sharply when she swayed a little.
Shaking away the brief light-headedness a symptom of her relief, she replied, “Nay. I would ne’er be so weak.”
“Good.” He started toward the doors to the great hall.
“Not unless it could serve some purpose,” she added, and met his startled then angry look with a calm expression, until he cursed and dragged her along into the King’s court.
