“Your confession has been given to me by Sir Paxton. As I understand it, you admit to killing Gilbert FitzWilliam, my knight and vassal, in an act of self-defense, is that correct?”
“Aye.”
“Tell me exactly what occurred.”
Alana told Henry the story, which was half-truth, half-fabrication, making certain she didn’t vary from the accounting she’d given Paxton: Gilbert had attempted to shove her into the river, they struggled, she eventually lost the fight and fell to tumble through the water. By luck, she caught hold of a limb and pulled herself onto the bank. “When I heard him coming, I feared he’d toss me into the water again. I sought my knife, then waited. He turned me over and that’s when I struck at him. Afterward, I rolled him into the water.”
“Why the pretense of drowning?” Henry asked, his gaze hard upon her. “If he made an attempt on your life, there seems little reason for you to lie.”
“I am Welsh. Because of it, I feared you would not believe my report of the events, even though it was true.”
“Why did you marry Gilbert FitzWilliam in the first place?” Henry asked.
“I had hoped the marriage would bring peace to my kinsmen.”
“It had nothing to do with your desire to retain control of the land on which the fortress is built?”
Alana frowned at him. Did he think she killed Gilbert in greed?
“I am aware that your father, Rhodri ap Daffyd, claimed the land,” Henry said when she didn’t respond immediately. “On his death, it became part of your inheritance. When you married Gilbert did you hope to keep control of your legacy through him?”
“I cannot deny that I wanted to secure my inheritance for my children, who would be half-Norman, half-Welsh.”
“So in effect, you married him for selfish reasons,” Henry stated. “Except you did not bear Gilbert children, did you?”
“No, I did not.”
“You did not refuse him his conjugal rights, then?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you love Gilbert?”
Alana stared at Henry. “No, I did not.”
“Why do you think Gilbert would try to kill you?”
“Because he despised me,” she said.
“Did he ever say such to you?”
“Nay, but his actions were most revealing. He showed me no warmth nor did he grant me any respect.”
“Did he ever strike you?”
“Nay.”
“Do you hold a natural malice toward my Norman knights?”
“I married another of your vassals, didn’t I?”
“Only because I decreed it, right?”
“Aye,” Alana said, knowing at the time it was true.
Henry examined her intently. “You may stand aside,” he declared.
Gwenifer was called next.
As Alana passed her cousin on her return to the spot where she once stood, Gwenifer seemed unable to look her in the eyes. Alana believed that Gwenifer was simply nervous.
Turning to face Henry, Alana felt Paxton move closer to her. From behind her, he reached out, caught her hand, and squeezed it, offering his reassurance. The action was welcomed by Alana, for it meant he cared.
“Maid Gwenifer,” Henry addressed her after she curtsied, “you are summoned before me to give testimony. In whatever you say, I will expect you to speak true. Do I have your word to this?”
“You have my word.”
“Do you live at the fortress with your cousin?”
“Nay, but I visit her on occasion. I was there when Gilbert died.”
“Then you know of the mood of their relationship just before his death, correct?”
“I saw and heard things, yes.”
“Was Gilbert cruel to your cousin?”
“Not cruel, nay.”
“Was he purposely rude to her?”
“Their relationship was strained, but ‘purposely rude’? Nay, not that I noticed.”
Henry scrutinized Gwenifer. “Did they argue?”
Gwenifer chewed at her lower lip.
“Answer me with the truth. Did they argue?” he repeated.
“Alana became short with him.”
“When?”
Again Gwenifer hesitated.
“When?” Henry inquired anew.
“On the eve of Gilbert’s death.”
“Do you recall why your cousin became angry with her husband?”
“Nay.”
“Do you recall anything that was said?” Henry asked.
Alana had forgotten that she and Gilbert had argued. In fact, she’d even forgotten what may have passed from her lips. She attended Gwenifer carefully, wondering what she would tell Henry.
Gwenifer again gnawed at her lip. “’Twas said only in the heat of the moment,” she blurted. “I’m sure Alana didn’t mean it.”
“What was said, Maid Gwenifer?”
Silence.
“What was said?” Henry barked.
Gwenifer jumped at the sharpness in his voice. “Alana said she rued the day she had married Gilbert. She said his death would be a relief. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. ’Twas only words.”
The incident came flooding in on Alana. She and Gilbert were in the hall. He’d made some hateful comment about her being barren—that she was useless to him, and as a woman, she was unappealing.
Alana had countered with the statement that she rued the day she married him. Told him his attempts at lovemaking were laughably inept, stated that he made her skin crawl whenever he was near, announced that his death would be a relief, for it would assure that he’d never touch her again. She said these things even though he’d not approached her for months on end.
Gilbert’s reply was that she’d not have to worry about his coming to her ever again. His plan to kill her was probably already set in his mind.
Though she recalled all this, she didn’t remember Gwenifer being anywhere near to hear either Gilbert’s or her words. But then their voices might have carried through the large room. Others may have heard them as well.
At the same time these memories streamed forth, Alana felt Paxton’s hand withdraw from hers. In effect he had deserted her on Gwenifer’s declaration. Did he now believe that she killed Gilbert, her heart filled with hatred and malevolence? Did he think her claim that Gilbert had first made an attempt on her life was naught but a ruse?
Alana refused to turn and look into his eyes, for fear that the answer to both her silent questions would show in the affirmative. The coldness in his gaze would destroy her.
Dejection filled her, as did an unbearable feeling of loneliness. Paxton had withdrawn his support and Henry would no doubt pronounce that she would be hanged, for Gwenifer’s testimony was most damaging.
Alana’s heart raced with trepidation when she heard Henry say, “Alana of Llangollen, stand before me.”
With halting steps, she moved to the place where Henry pointed. She felt suddenly cold and was shivering. Still she lifted her chin and met him stare for stare.
“Is what your cousin said true? Did you say you rued the day you married my knight? Did you say his death would be a relief to you?”
Alana could not refute the words, for it would be a lie. And Henry, she knew, was far too discerning. “Aye, I said those things.”
Several gasps were heard from those who were congregated in the tent, before Henry questioned, “And you admit to killing Gilbert FitzWilliam?”
Alana felt she had no choice but to continue the lie. “Aye, I killed him, but it was done in self-defense. He attempted to kill me first.”
Henry was quiet for a long while as he scrutinized Alana, who in turn wondered what his verdict would be. His face was unreadable, and Alana concluded that he was a master at disguising his thoughts and emotions, an admirable trait for a man who was king.
“My decision is made,” Henry said finally.
Offering prayers to Saint David, Alana held her breath.
CHAPTER
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Alana of Llangollen, by the testimony given me and by your own confession that you killed Gilbert FitzWilliam, I find that you did so with malice aforethought and not as claimed in self-defense. You will, therefore, by my decree, be hanged for the crime of murder. May God have mercy on your soul.”
His words ended, several things happened all at once. Father Jevon began droning a litany in Latin; Alana’s knees buckled as two of Henry’s knights latched onto her arms; Gwenifer burst into tears, ran to a nearby bench, and sank atop it; Madoc cursed Henry soundly; while Paxton shouted, “Nay! ’Tis a travesty of justice!”
The tent, which was abuzz with voices, grew suddenly still. “Do you question my verdict and my authority, Sir Paxton?” Henry inquired.
“I do not question your authority, sire,” Paxton announced as he stepped before Henry. “I do question your verdict and the sentence you have pronounced. I have remained silent too long, therefore I feel it is imperative that I be allowed to speak.”
“You may do so,” Henry declared. “But I doubt anything will change.”
Paxton glanced at Alana to see her gaze was fast upon him. She knew what he was about to say. She also knew she was going to die, and Paxton hoped she wouldn’t be foolish enough to deny his words once they were all said.
He looked at Henry. “My wife confessed to killing Gilbert FitzWilliam in self-defense. I do not believe her claim that it was her hand that wielded the knife. However, I do believe she speaks true when she says Gilbert attempted to kill her.”
“If not by hers, then by whose hand do you think Gilbert was killed?” Henry asked.
“By her uncle’s and her cousins’ hands in an act of revenge against Gilbert’s attempt on Alana’s life.”
“Nay! ’Tis a lie!” Alana cried. “I killed Gilbert.”
Paxton’s gaze shot toward her. “God’s wounds! Would you for once keep your tongue still, woman! That damnable Welsh pride and stubbornness of yours is taking you to the gallows as it is. Now keep quiet!”
Alana pressed her lips together, and Paxton again attended Henry. His king’s brow was arched, his lips twitching as though he were amused by Paxton’s display of temper toward his misbehaving wife.
“I’m most interested, Sir Paxton, in hearing your version of what you think happened to bring about Gilbert’s death,” Henry said. “Proceed.”
Paxton explained what he thought transpired that day, telling his king about Rhys and his sons, how they lived in a ringwork across the river. He even included how Alana had run to her uncle on the day of their wedding to show she had probably done the same when Gilbert attempted to kill her. He did not let it be known that Rhys had captured him with the intent of burning him at the stake. To do so would not advance his cause but obstruct it instead.
“Has your wife admitted these things to you?” Henry asked once Paxton was finished.
“Aye, she has.”
Henry circled his gaze to Alana. “Do you concur with your husband’s testimony?”
It was Paxton’s turn to hold his breath.
“Nay. I killed Gilbert in self-defense.”
“She denies your story, Sir Paxton.”
“She would, sire.”
“And why is that?” Henry asked.
“’Tis as she’s stated,” Paxton returned. “She feared you wouldn’t believe her if she told the truth. In this case, she was certain you’d see Gilbert’s death as a conspiracy perpetrated by herself and her kin.”
“It does smack of a conspiracy,” Henry stated.
“How so?” Paxton inquired.
“I have yet to hear a valid reason as to why Gilbert would want his wife dead. Sir Goddard, rest his beleaguered soul, described their marriage as being disharmonious. Despite that, according to Sir Goddard’s testimony, Sir Gilbert tried to keep the peace between them. It is admitted by all who were asked that Gilbert never struck her. Though Madoc’s testimony paints a different picture of my vassal, showing him as rude, cold, and disrespectful of his wife, I am still told they argued, which Sir Goddard said was instigated by her.
“But setting those two testimonies aside, Gwenifer’s is the most damning of all. Your wife admitted that she said what Gwenifer reported: In essence, she wanted Gilbert dead. Whether by her hand or by her uncle’s and cousins’, I’d say she got her wish. I also say it was deliberate and not an act of self-defense nor was it an act of revenge because Gilbert sought to kill her first. There is nothing to say he tried anything of the sort. Thus, Sir Paxton, my verdict stands.”
Paxton couldn’t believe what he’d heard from his king. “You saw the scrap of tunic that Gilbert wore the day he died. You’ve heard the ordeal she went through as she was dragged along through the river. Heed me when I say I’ve seen the water’s turbulence firsthand after a heavy rain. It was a miracle she survived its fury. Therefore I ask you this: Do you really believe, in the weakened state she was in, that she could have inflicted those wounds on a man who was stout and hale and who was nearly twice her size?”
“I can believe anything of a woman who is bent on treachery,” Henry replied.
“Then you are a fool,” Paxton bit out.
When the gasps settled there was naught but a ponderous silence. Paxton’s hard stare was locked with Henry’s. To all who looked on, it was difficult to say who was the more angry of the two.
“’Tis treason you risk, Sir Paxton. One more word against me and I shall have you gibbeted alongside her,” Henry threatened. “Is that what you want?”
“Treason it may be, sire, but a man is not a man if he does not speak out against an injustice. There is no equity in what you do. You seek revenge for no reason.”
Henry’s face reddened perceptively. “No reason!” he thundered. “She’s confessed to killing my vassal.”
“Simply because your vassal attempted to kill her first. Besides, her confession is false. She is protecting her kin. They are the culprits.”
“She denies that.”
“She’s lying.”
Henry set his jaw. “’Tis only her word to say that Gilbert acted against her. She offers no motive for Gilbert wanting to kill her, except she believes he despised her. Two have testified that Gilbert was essentially kind to her.”
“Pah!” Paxton returned. “One was a drunken sot who hated all Welsh. He attempted to rape her.”
“Sir Goddard claimed she tried to seduce him.”
“A lie,” Paxton shouted. “You have accepted my testimony that it was.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “So I did. But what of her cousin? Are you able to refute her testimony?”
Paxton could not. Of the two witnesses to whom Henry referred, one speaking against Alana, the other supposedly for her, Gwenifer’s testimony was indeed the most damaging. How could he stop this madness from advancing to its intended end?
“You seem at a loss for words,” Henry stated. “My decision is made.” He looked at the men who held Alana. “Take her to the gallows and see she is hanged.”
“Nay!” Paxton cried, and found himself suddenly held by two other knights. He was ready to use any means to protect Alana and keep her from dying needlessly. “You would not kill a woman who may be with child, would you?”
“By her own admission, she is barren. That she dies is a favor to you. You can take another wife, one who will bear you sons. Take her out,” Henry ordered again.
“Nay!” Paxton shouted anew.
Henry’s face grew redder than before. “I ask again, do you question my authority?”
“I question your wisdom.”
Several gasps were heard again at his statement, which could be construed in no other way but as treasonous.
“Then I presume you wish to die alongside her?”
Paxton knew the answer the instant the question was asked. As his gaze ran over Alana’s lovely face, his heart ached with the knowledge that she’d soon be lost to him forever.
Turning hard eyes on Henry, Paxton said, �
�I’d prefer death over life without her, aye. And I’d certainly prefer death over serving a king who knows not the meaning of justice.”
“Then so be it,” Henry decreed.
“Nay!” Alana cried, fighting against the hands that held her. “He knows not what he says. Hang me but spare him. Please. I beg you.”
Her pleas coursed through Paxton, but he knew they would have no effect on Henry. Paxton had sealed his own fate by challenging his king as he had. It mattered not. Life without Alana was no life at all. In death they would be together forever.
“Strike his spurs and take them to the gallows,” Henry ordered. “Priest, start praying for their souls.”
As Paxton felt the symbols of his knighthood fall away from him, Father Jevon reciting his prayers again, he heard Alana’s cry, “Nay! You must not do this.” When Henry turned away from her, she looked at Paxton. “You are the one who is the fool. Why did you do this, Paxton? Why?”
Though he wished he could take Alana into his arms one last time, he knew that would be impossible. His hands were being bound behind him, the same as were hers. “There’s only one answer, my wife,” he said, a bittersweet feeling surging inside him.
“And what is that?” she asked, tears brightening her eyes.
“I did it because I love you.”
A sob broke from her lips. “And I love you,” she said in return, her eyes locked with his.
Even though their bodies were held apart, in that instant their hearts touched in an everlasting promise of faith and devotion. Paxton absorbed the feeling as it was extended to him across the distance that separated them. He returned it to Alana by way of his abiding gaze.
Then, roughly, they were being turned toward the tent’s entry. “I’ll be with you forever, Alana,” Paxton told her. “Know that I will, love.”
“And I with you, my love.”
Somewhere behind them could be heard Gwenifer’s soft sobs. Overriding those were Madoc’s snarls of protest. Other than Father Jevon’s uttered litany as he led the way from the tent, the rest was silence from all who watched their departure.
Over Father Jevon’s shoulder and beyond the raised flaps, Paxton could see the waning sun. It would be their last sunset, he thought, praying it was a glorious one indeed. Then, the opening was filled with men, each one entering separately. Alana’s and his pathway blocked, their progression was halted.
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