Gasping, sick, Julian staggered over to the pitcher of wine against the far wall, a lovely pitcher in a pewter container, and drank heavily from the pitcher’s rim. Red wine poured down his neck and he sloppily wiped it away. He had to think and think hard on how to retrieve his wife from the de Lohrs and how to beat them at their own game.
That was the trouble– the de Lohrs were one of the most powerful families in England. No one was stronger than they were, except for the king, but he knew that John would never come to his aid. Since Julian had been sleeping with the man’s wife, the king had no great love or loyalty towards him. So the matter was in finding someone stronger than the de Lohrs, someone who could force them to turn over Emberley. The strongest man, or strongest army, in all of England would be needed to convince them.
Outside, the church bells rang, signaling the onset of Matins, or pre-dawn prayers. Julian heard the bells, turning in the direction of the sound as a thought came over him. Perhaps he didn’t need the strongest man or strongest army to overcome the de Lohrs. Perhaps all he needed was a single man with the army of God behind him, someone who could evoke the holy law of the Church, the law that all men bowed to. Even the de Lohrs would have to obey.
As the bells continued to ring, Julian smiled. Finally, he had his answer.
*
Jonas couldn’t decideif he was perturbed or exhausted. Perhaps a little of both. He drank heavily of the wine that was given to him, wiping his mouth on his rough, woolen sleeve.
The low-ceilinged solar was dark but for the fire in the hearth, a foreboding place at the moment. David stood a few feet from Jonas, arms folded over his chest and a concerned expression on his face. He hadn’t said a word since taking the priest into the solar and producing a hefty quantity of wine for the man. It seemed as if he needed the fortification. As he stood there and watched him, Christopher entered the solar and quietly shut the door.
“Forbes will be here directly,” he told them both. Then he looked at the priest. “What is this about?”
Jonas gazed up at the earl, a man who was well-known throughout England. He was something of a legend, even at his young age. After a moment, the priest sighed heavily and set his chalice of wine on the table.
“I would presume you know what your brother and Gart asked of me,” he said.
Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “I do,” he crossed his arms, passing a glance at David. The priest’s role in Forbes’ situation had brought the most heat from Christopher. “I cannot say that I agree with what was asked of you. They were wrong to manipulate you into such a position.”
Jonas waved him off. “My lord, surely there have been times in your life when you have bent the rules to your own satisfaction or done something that perhaps you should not have simplybecause it was the right thing to do.” He took another drink of wine. “This is one of those times.”
Christopher pursed his lips and shook his head, hanging it in deep thought as he stared at the ground. He wasn’t sure what more he could say to that, mostly because he had, in fact, done things in his life that he should not have done simply because he believed they were the right things to do. He didn’t want to get into a lengthy discussion about it.
As he stood there in contemplative silence, the door to the solar opened again and Gart appeared. The knight looked rather anxious, unusual for the normally calm man, as he stepped inside and closed the door. He faced the priest expectantly.
“I was told you wanted to speak with me,” he said quietly.
Jonas looked at the knight, suddenly feeling a great deal of sorrow for the man. He finally grunted and ran his fingers through his dark hair, feeling the stubble on the bald spot at the top of his scalp. He did not delay in what he had to tell him.
“The queen came to confession today,” he said, lowering his voice. “I knew she would come because it is the ending of a holy holiday and she always comes immediately after the cessation of a holiday. It would seem she always has a great deal to confess. I sat in the confessionals for six hours waiting for her to come and when she finally did, she… well, suffice it to say that she did mention a man she had relations with. When I asked his name, she did not say Julian de Moyon. It would seem that our queen has a new lover.”
He stopped abruptly and Gart lifted his eyebrows, encouraging the man to continue. “And? What happened? Did you not speak of de Moyon at all?”
Jonas shook his head. “That is what I am trying to tell you,” he said. “I cannot tell her to convince Buckland to divorce his wife in penance for their affair because she is apparently no longer giving her affections to the man. To bring up his name onmy own would have appeared suspicious. I was unable to make the suggestion at all.”
Gart stared at him. “But you said that Buckland comes to you for confession also. You can suggest it to him directly.”
Jonas waved him off, weary and disheartened. “He only comes with Isabella and he was not with her today. I doubt he will come on his own. He never has before.”
Gart could see that the priest felt they were at an impasse on their plan. He struggled not to become agitated, knowing that would only cause problems. These people were trying to help him and he knew it. After a moment of staring blankly at the priest, he simply turned away and paced into the dark shadows of the room.
“There must be some way to speak with him,” he finally said, looking like a phantom in the darkened corner of the room. “He must go to confession somewhere.”
“I would not ask of a fellow priest what you have asked of me,” Jonas said in a low voice. “Buckland must come to me or this plan will not come to fruition. I will not pull anyone else down into this quagmire of deceit and manipulation you are breeding.”
It was a struggle for Gart not to snap at the man, but he did stiffen, a precursor to thesachrage that often filled him. As he turned away, laboring for words that would not sound aggressive or angry, there was a knock at the solar door. Christopher was standing the closest and he opened the panel.
Emberley stood in the dim light of the hall, dressed in a ravishing scarlet surcoat that Emilie had loaned her. Her luscious blond hair was plaited into a lovely braid that draped over one shoulder and, in truth, she looked radiant and beautiful, even in the dead of night. She smiled timidly at Christopher when their eyes met.
“Gart asked me to come, my lord,” she said softly. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
Gart was already moving for the door when he heard her voice as Christopher opened the panel wider to invite her in.
“Not at all, my lady,” Christopher said. “We welcome your company.”
Her smile turned genuine as she stepped into the room. Gart took her hand immediately, kissing it sweetly and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. As he pulled her deeper into the room, he pulled her towards the seated priest. As the fire in the hearth crackled softly, he faced off against Jonas.
