Candace C. Bowen - Knight Series 03

by A Knight of Valour

  The justice hastened to serve the king. Using his sleeve to clean a silver goblet, he filled it with his costliest vintage. So focused on pleasing Henry he failed to notice that Fulke and Talan had slipped into the adjacent chamber. Only after refilling the king’s cup did he remark upon their absence. “Guards, escort Baron Erlegh and his lowborn knight back in here.”

  Standing at order along the wall closest to the king, they looked to the king for direction.

  “Assist me up,” Henry ordered. “I shall see for myself where they have gone.”

  “Sire,” Ranulf called nervously. “The adjoining chamber is not fit for your eyes. It is where I… glean information from reluctant captives of the crown.”

  “In that case, I should most assuredly like to see it.” Once on his feet, Henry held out his hand for his wine. Draining the goblet, he passed it back empty to the guard. “When I was a young lad I explored many a dungeon in Normandy and England. I should like to see the advancements made in the implements of persuasion.”

  Ranulf hesitated only briefly as he led the way through the archway. To illuminate the chamber, Fulke and Talan had already taken the liberty to light the torches set in iron brackets. The justice glowered at the two men as he moved further inside to make room for the king. Like the space adjacent to it, the torture chamber consisted of cream block stone walls and a hard-packed dirt floor. A rack was set alongside a wheel for the purpose of stretching bodies. Several cages were suspended above a row of wood stocks. Opening an iron maiden cabinet, Talan stepped back in disgust to see the spikes within still encrusted with blood and bits of shriveled flesh. Crude shelving on the far end of the chamber was stacked high with handheld torture devices. Hooks anchored into the walls held knout, scourge and knittles, and cat o’nine tail leather whips. The more lethal of which had metal balls and spikes knotted on the ends.

  “Well, Ranulf,” Henry observed. “It appears you have enjoyed your diversion from the ordinary.”

  “Only those deserving feel my wrath, Sire.”

  “I am pleased to hear that.” Moving to the center of the chamber, Henry stood beside the trap door of the oubliette.” And what do we have here?”

  Fidgeting anxiously, Ranulf feigned nonchalance. “What chamber such as this would be complete without an oubliette? It has not been used in some time.”

  “Oh?” Henry asked. “And why is that?”

  “Truth to tell, I have not utilized the chamber of late, Sire. At my advancing age, I am finding it difficult to tread up and down the steps.”

  “Open it.”

  “Sire?”

  “You heard him.” Fulke stepped forward to tower over the justice. “Our king has commanded you to open it.”

  Seeing no way out, the justice signaled to the guards.

  “I did not instruct my men to open it,” Henry said. “I commanded you to do it.”

  With a last resentful look at Fulke, the justice crouched to grab the iron ring attached to the top of the trap door. With a slight exertion he pulled it up. The smell of death that erupted from the sealed space left him gagging.

  “It does not appear to be empty after all,” Henry said in a chilling tone.

  †

  Surrounded by guards, Mylla, Caine, Frederick, Albin, Guy, and Gervase were led back into the grand hall. Surprise had them slowing their pace when they surveyed the scene before them. Tables had been brought in and were set as if in preparation for a feast. Filled to capacity with nobles of every rank, the group was forced to walk in single file to the front of the hall.

  His modest brown woolen garments a beacon against the lavish backdrop of the multicolored silk and velvet hues worn by the nobility surrounding him, Mylla’s gaze was drawn to a solitary man seated at a table to the left of the dais. She let out a soft exclamation of joy when she recognized it to be her father. Clearly out of his element, the sheriff appeared uncomfortable.

  Upon reaching the sheriff’s table, the lead guard turned to address them. “You are not to leave the hall for any reason unless bidden by the king.”

  “What if we have to make use of the garderobe?” Albin politely inquired.

  “We shall see if you are so cocky by the end of this night, Sir Albin.” The guard frowned.

  “By the looks of things, I would say it is safe to wager my attitude will remain unchanged.” Albin smiled smugly.

  Jerking his head at his companions, the guards left them.

  While the knights took seats, Mylla flung herself into the welcoming arms of her father. Oblivious to the curious stares directed their way, she sobbed against his shoulder as he soothingly whispered reassurances into her ear.

  “How is it you came to be here?” Albin asked the sheriff.

  “A full contingent of the king’s guard arrived in Rochester to escort me here,” the sheriff said patting Mylla’s back. “I expected to be brought up on charges until I was escorted to a table reserved for peers of high ranking.” He shook his head. “It makes no sense to me. Would you happen to know why?”

  “I cannot say for sure, but since we all do not currently reside in the dungeons, I believe it to be a good sign,” Albin replied.

  “I know why you were summoned, Da,” Mylla sniffed. “Tis all Edmund’s doing.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” The sheriff looked confused. “How could Edmund be responsible for my summons?”

  “Afore discussing such an unpleasant topic, we should first discuss why we are seated in a place of honor for what appears to be a celebratory feast,” Caine said.

  “Let us just deem it to be a good omen,” Guy said.

  Having gained control of her emotions, Mylla straightened to sit in the seat beside her father. “Forgive me, Da. I am just so pleased to see you.”

  “There is no need to apologize, La-La.” Sheriff Richard smiled tenderly. “You have been through much since leaving home.”

  “How is mother?” she asked.

  “Worried, but God willing, I shall soon be able to send a message home to reassure her that all is well with us.” Sheriff Richard switched topics. “Now what is this I hear about Edmund? Did the guard capture you afore he had a chance to reach you?”

  “The guard did not capture me,” Mylla said averting her eyes.

  “Edmund betrayed us all, Da,” Leofrick said. “He struck a cowardly blow to the back of Talan’s head so he could snatch Mylla and return her to the justice.”

  “Tell me it is not true.” Sheriff Richard reached for his daughter’s hand.

  “I wish I could.” Tears slipped down Mylla’s cheeks.

  “Is it safe to assume that you came to blows with your eldest brother, Leo?” The sheriff studied his son’s battered face.

  “Safe enough, Da,” Leofrick said. “We have—”

  “Sir Gervase,” a simpering voice intruded upon the group. “I believe you expressed an interest in being introduced to my father.”

  The table fell silent when Gervase belatedly stood to face Lady Adorlee. Dressed in a garnet silk kirtle over a gold cendal chemise, she looked like a jewel set against the drab figure of Liliana who stood meekly behind her. Standing beside Adorlee was her father, King Henry’s master-marshal, Paul de Bounauito.

  “Was I perhaps wrong?” Adorlee tilted her head when he failed to respond.

  “Forgive me, master-marshal.” Gervase dipped his head. “My mind was elsewhere.”

  “My daughter tells me that you would like to speak to me,” the master-marshal said. “Shall we go somewhere more private?”

  “Whilst I greatly appreciate the offer of your valuable time, I am pleased to say your intercession which I had intended to entreat is no longer necessary.” Gervase looked past Adorlee to Liliana. Feeling her gaze on him, he slanted his eyes to the closest exit door.

  Adorlee’s eyes briefly flared in anger. “Well then, it appears we have wasted your time.”

  “Not at all, Lady Adorlee,” Gervase said without looking at her. “Master-marshal, if you hav
e a moment to spare, I would like to introduce you to the Sheriff of Rochester. I believe you have much in common.”

  “Until we can ascertain why we were summoned, a brief discourse on lawful subjects would be a most welcome diversion,” the master-marshal said.

  After the introductions were made, the master-marshal signaled to a footman to have refreshment served to the table. Taking a seat across from the sheriff the two lawmen appeared more at ease discussing topics familiar to them both.

  “Father,” Adorlee fumed, “should we not return to mother? You know how she loathes to be kept waiting.”

  “You go on ahead,” the master-marshal said after a slight hesitation, “I shall join you both anon.”

  “And I shall tell her exactly what you said.” Adorlee then turned her brightest smile on Gervase. “Would you be so kind as to escort a lady back to her table, Sir Gervase?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Lady Adorlee,” Gervase lied with a smile.

  Liliana stepped forward to whisper something to Adorlee when Gervase stood to excuse himself. He heard Adorlee’s sharp retort before Liliana could be seen making her way through the crowd to exit the hall.

  Lightly placing her hand on Gervase’s forearm, Adorlee met every look of envy with a smug smile. The moment they cleared the table she began to ply him with questions, paying particular note to his group’s coveted table assignment.

  The hall was so crowded and loud, Gervase blamed the noise for not being able to hear her.

  Visibly irritated, Adorlee gave up speaking to him at all. Arriving at her family’s assigned table in the center of the hall, she gestured to a plump gray haired woman dining on sweetmeats. “I would introduce you to my mother, yet as you say, it is too unbearably loud in here.”

  “It has been nice speaking with you as well, my lady.” Gervase turned his back on her with a look of disgust.

  Jostling past servants bearing heavy silver trays filled with refreshments, Gervase rushed after Liliana. He spotted her waiting for him beside a curtained alcove in the passageway. Once enclosed within, he found himself at a sudden loss for words.

  “Why did you need to see me, Sir Gervase?” Liliana prompted. “Had I discovered the reason for the assemblage, I would have sought you out.”

  Searching the veil that completely concealed her, Gervase longed to see what she looked like. “I wanted to thank you for helping us, me.”

  “You have already done so.”

  “Will you tell me why?” Gervase asked.

  She waited so long to respond, he did not think she was going to. “In your experience, is it only knights who choose to do what is right?”

  “Nay, I am fortunate to be acquainted with several women like you.”

  “Then why even ask me such a thing?”

  “Other than wishing to know your motives, I know not,” Gervase admitted. “I just find myself wanting to know.”

  My motives are pure I assure you.” Hearing laughter in the passageway, Liliana backed away from him. “I must go.”

  “What hold does Lady Adorlee have on you? If you tell me, I can help you.”

  “I am beyond your help, Sir Gervase.” Reaching up, she lightly touched his cheek with her gloved fingers. “Fare thee well.”

  She left him staring after her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Shrewd as he was, the justice knew he had to be very careful now that his secret was out. Blaming the late Chaucey for betraying him with his dying words, he surmised Sheriff Richard had lied to him. It was the only explanation for the scene now unfolding. How they would pay. Recovering his composure, he humbly faced the king. “Sire, I apologize for you being in the presence of such foulness. It appears I have forgotten a traitor to the crown in the oubliette. Why do we not retire outside for some fresh air?”

  “The body is that of a traitor to the crown?” Holding a finger beneath his nose, Henry remained in place.

  “Like I said, I am not the young man I once was,” the justice said.

  “Apparently not,” Henry said. “A man of sound mind does not overlook a rotting corpse in his cellar.”

  “I again apologize for my laxness, Sire.”

  “Bring it up,” Henry commanded his guards.

  “Sire.” The justice moved to block the oubliette. “To what end would you willingly subject yourself to such foulness?”

  “I would have a look at this vile traitor.” Rising to his feet, Henry moved closer to Ranulf. “By the way, what did the man do to warrant such a brutal demise?”

  Sweating profusely, the justice kept his eye on the guards carrying out Henry’s order. “I believe he plotted against you, Sire.”

  “You believe?” Henry shook his head. “Clearly, your laxness proves you are no longer fit for the position you hold.”

  A pair of guards remained by the king’s side while the remaining three carried out the task of removing the trunk. Straining to lift it from the confining space, it took all of them to pull it free. Dragging it clear of the oubliette’s opening, they waited for further instruction.

  “Tell me, Ranulf.” King Henry approached the trunk. “Why would you put a traitor in a locked trunk when the oubliette serves the same purpose?”

  For the first time in his life, the justice was at a loss for words.

  “Open it,” Henry commanded.

  One of the guards stepped forward. Eyeing the large padlock, he unsheathed his dagger. Using the hilt, he forcefully brought it down against the rusty lock causing it to fall apart. The guard stood and lifted the latch in one fluid motion. A look of horror crossed his features when he looked back at the king.

  Henry moved closer to study the contents of the trunk. Forced into a fetal position to fit inside, lay the decomposed remains of a woman. Her once supple skin now leathery, it appeared the body had become partially mummified. A full set of even white teeth could be seen in her gaping mouth, and one of her distinctive hazel eyes had slipped from its socket to rest on her sunken cheek. It was the long flowing blonde tresses that Henry most recognized. Unbound, it still held its natural curl. The nightgown she wore was near unrecognizable due to the stains caused by the decaying process. Spotting a small cask in the trunk’s gap caused by the curl of her body, Henry straightened.

  “I would have saved you from seeing such a thing, Sire,” the justice said. “The woman was one of my mistresses. She died during rough relations.”

  “Since when do you allow mistresses into your home?” Unseen by the justice, King Henry began to tremble with rage.

  “I was lonely after my wife left me,” Ranulf said.

  “Retrieve the cask,” Henry commanded.

  A guard grimaced but hastened to obey the order. Removing the small jeweled cask from the trunk, he held it out to the king.

  The justice paled considerably.

  Lifting the lid, Henry sorted through the costly and precious jewels inside. Hooking his finger around a delicate gold medallion, he lifted it free. Clearly visible was the crest of Henry’s mother, Matilda of Flanders. “I want my cousin’s remains removed with dignity for a proper burial.”

  Anticipating further orders, the guards waited.

  “Henry…” the justice began. “It was an accident. I did not know how to break it to you. Please, you must believe me.”

  “Put him in the oubliette and seal it up,” Henry commanded as if tired.

  “Henry,” the justice whined, backing away from the guards, “I ask for mercy.”

  “Hold,” Henry commanded his advancing guards. “I would think in your line of business you would know better, Ranulf. One does not ask for mercy, one begs for it.”

  Stiffly lowering himself to his knees, the justice lowered his head. “As one of your most loyal subjects and oldest friends, I humbly beg your mercy, Sire.”

  “We have indeed been companions a long while.” Henry coldly gazed down at Ranulf. “In our youth you once told me that a man who showed mercy was no man at all. If I were to grant y
ou mercy, not only would you have gotten away with the murder of my cousin, you would henceforth believe me to be weak.” Henry bent down to finish in a whisper, “and I would not have one of my dearest friends assume incorrectly.”

  “Please, Henry.” Ranulf grabbed the hem of the king’s tunic. “Spare me.”

  “Carry out your duty,” the king commanded.

  The justice’s whimpering protestations turned to appeals for mercy when the guards moved in to seize hold of him.

  †

  Word had spread and the crowd outside the justice’s residence had grown by the time the king departed. Spotting Talan alongside Baron Erlegh and the king, a single face in the cheering and waving throng stood watching with a look of disbelief. Edmund elbowed his way through the nearest onlookers the moment the guards fell into formation to follow the procession.

  Pounding on the justice’s door, it was immediately opened by a liveried servant. “I need to see the justice.”

  Eyeing the disheveled visitor with a look of disdain, the servant coolly intoned, “Depart these premises afore I have you forcefully removed.”

  Before the servant could shut the door in his face, Edmund stuck his boot in the opening. “Tell your master Edmund of Rochester is here. He will see me.”

  “The justice can no longer see anyone. We are a house in mourning.” Kicking Edmund’s boot out of the way, the servant slammed the door.

  Edmund slowly backed away from the door with a look of shock. He had gambled against his family, and ended up losing everything.

  †

  The sound of horns alerted the hall to the impending arrival of the king. The servants assumed places along the outer walls while those not seated anxiously found their seats. Never had Henry been so secretive or had them waiting so long without an explanation.

  Still seated at the sheriff’s table, the master-marshal reluctantly stood. “If you will excuse me, I must return to my family. Richard, if you remain in residence, I would like to continue our talk on the shire courts. I find your ideas both innovative and refreshing. ”

  “Thank you, Paul,” the sheriff said, “I shall look forward to it.”