Catherine seemed unaware of the darkness, the slithering contempt these men harbored against her. She stood there unsuspecting of the danger, the death waiting for her if she continued to claim guilt in Eduard’s murder.
Almost against his will, Gray’s gaze flew to the grim-faced Court official shuffling a pile of parchments to the left of the king. ’Twas Lord Webster, the sour old man who’d come to his cell daily to observe the interrogations. Once he found the document he was seeking, the man would be called to speak. There was no doubt that he would bring forth the Council’s judgement against Catherine in front of everyone assembled here.
And then it would be too late.
At that moment Gray knew that he had to stop this in any way he could. He had to stop these men, before they brought down their wrath on Catherine’s innocent head.
“Your Highness!” he called, throwing himself forward. More than a dozen soldiers in orange tunics lowered their spears at him, while his guards grabbed frantically at his arms to hold him back.
He struggled to shake them off, yelling, “Your Highness, I cast myself on your mercy and publicly claim open and clear disobedience to you, as well as full responsibility in the murder of my sworn rival, Eduard de Montford!”
The Court erupted into chaos, but Gray shouted over it, forcing himself to avoid Catherine’s stricken stare. “I surrender myself to your judgement and penalty, great king, and ask only that you release this woman, who is innocent of any wrongdoing in—”
“Nay! ’Tis not true!” Catherine cried. Spectators lurched to their feet, engrossed in the drama, and the clamor of voices rose.
“He bears no fault in this!” Catherine called above the din. “’Tis I who killed Lord Montford! I alone who bear guilt in—”
“Enough!” the king roared. His command cut through the furor, bringing everyone to a reluctant hush. He stood and glared at the assembly. Dark anticipation seethed through the chamber, curling about everyone’s ankles, alive and snakelike.
“In all of Our years as sovereign,” Henry grated, his face stiff with fury, “We have never been subjected to the kind of frenzy engendered this day by the two of you, each stubbornly clinging to a confession of guilt in the same villainous crime. We are almost tempted to order both of your foolish heads struck off for it!”
Renewed gasps and murmurs echoed through the chamber, but the king continued, undaunted in his anger. Placing both of his hands on the table in front of him, he leaned forward to speak deliberately, succinctly. “However, as England is a civilized nation, We prefer not to execute the innocent alongside the guilty.”
Gray made a move to speak again, but Henry held up his hand, his fingers so rigid that they appeared made of stone. Stepping back, Gray clenched his jaw and waited, deciding that it would be in Catherine’s best interest for him to obey for now.
“Lord Montford was one of Our most powerful nobles,” the king said fiercely. “A seasoned warrior and champion. And regardless of what part he may have played in this affair—a part that he is forever deprived from defending himself against, We remind you—We do not take his murder or his loss to the Crown lightly.”
Gray gritted his teeth, but the king continued, glaring at him. “Nor do We accept the constant and blatant disobedience of you, Lord Camville, Our equally powerful and hitherto most favored High Champion. Your repeated defiance of Our sanctions speaks ill of your allegiance to Our authority.”
More whispers arose, increasing to a low buzz as the king next directed his harsh stare at Catherine. “And as for the deceits that it appears you have perpetrated, lady, We find that We have no words to express Our feelings of shock and dismay.”
She flushed and dropped her gaze. Henry’s expression softened a little, though he didn’t say more to her, directing his next words instead to the gathered assembly. “It is time to resolve this matter once and for all.”
He sat in a flourish of jeweled robes, making an irritated gesture with his hand toward Lord Webster at his left. “The Court Official will now present the Council’s findings to the assembly.”
Gray scowled at Lord Webster, trying to catch his gaze, but the man ignored him to stand and look round the chamber, obviously relishing his important role in these proceedings.
“We, the High Council,” he began in a nasal drone, “have come to several conclusions regarding the murder of Eduard de Montford and the events leading up to it.”
Gray saw at least five of the dozen men on either side of the king avert their gazes or look down. His chest tightened, and he strained at the guards holding him, wanting to stop this, to make them all see reason before it was too late.
“First, in response to the charge by Lord Camville that Lord Montford exercised abuses on Catherine de Montford in excess of that allowed by law as her guardian—nolegalhusband being present,” he directed a pointed glare at Gray, “we, the Council, find it to be unsubstantiated. In addition, we find that—”
“Unsubstantiated?” Gray growled in disbelief. Rage slammed through him, and he lurched forward, blind to all else but the need to make this wretch admit the truth. “You arrogant bastard,” he shouted. “Did you see her when she arrived here? Jesu, he’d beaten her near to death! What kind of proof do you need?”
Out of the chaos of the court chamber, four additional soldiers were forced to scramble to aid Gray’s guards in restraining him. He was fighting like a madman to get to the now pale-faced and gaping Lord Webster, itching to do to the man what Montford had done to Catherine, to see then if he thought her injuries unsubstantiated.
Suddenly, something smashed into the back of his skull, and with a grunt he went down to his knees. Through the numbness that threatened to overtake him, he felt irons being clapped over his wrists, binding his hands together with thick chain.
“Lord Camville, you will govern yourself,” King Henry called over the noise in the court chamber.
Shaking the remaining stars from his vision, Gray pushed himself back to his feet, first glaring at the guard who’d dealt him the blow, then looking to the king. Fury still clouded his mind, pulsing through him in heated waves, but even through it, he perceived a subtle change in his monarch. He saw for the first time a glint of something, perhaps a kind of understanding, buried in Henry’s steely gaze.
When Gray turned to Catherine, however, what remained of his anger curdled in his gut. She faced him, gazing at him with those solemn, sad eyes. Like a tangible force, he felt the strength of her love wash over him. It flowed to him in waves, mingled with the pain of watching him struggle. Finally, she just breathed in and shook her head, her sapphire eyes brimming as she pleaded silently with him to be still, to let this day take its course.
Never! he wanted to shout.I will never allow them to blame you for killing Montford!He felt consumed by panic, wanting to destroy everything, anyone that might harm her. But before he could act, King Henry stood. He waved Lord Webster back into his seat, and the man sank down gratefully, his sweat-beaded face ashen, his eyes sunken as he fixed them on Gray.
The king spoke, his voice firm. “We did not wish to involve others in our quest for the truth this day, but it seems that We are left with no choice.”
