My Lord Raven (Knights of the Royal Household)

Chapter Thirty-Four

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Icy tendrils of fear wound around Catrin’s heart. She breathed deeply and paused, looking up to Bran, who stood by her side at the entrance to the great hall. He took her hand in his gloved one, holding hers fast, offering his support. But no matter. The cold leather of Bran’s glove provided little comfort.

“Go, sirrah!” Sir Otto prodded Bran with the tip of his sword. “Your king awaits.”

And your judgment. Catrin knew what faced them. King Edward would not be happy. But would he understand? She feared her guilt was assured with no witness to testify to Guy’s treachery. Bran had slain the hapless Harry. Perchance he had made a grave mistake, for there was no one to speak for them.

Bran squeezed her hand for reassurance before he dropped it then stepped forward into the crowded hall. Catrin kept pace beside him, joined together in whatever transpired.

Curiosity and hostility hung heavily in the air. The bejeweled and well-dressed noblemen and women, parting in front of them, murmured in recognition and then fell silent. Heads held high, Bran and Catrin walked the straight path toward the dais and throne where Edward, King of England, Lord of Ireland, and Duke of Aquitaine sat waiting.

“I see reports of your death were highly exaggerated, Lady Catrin,” Edward spoke as she and Bran knelt before his presence.

Catrin kept her gaze direct, ne’er flinching, longing for the smile and friendly face of Queen Eleanor. Instead, she faced the forbidding stare of her monarch. “Aye, your grace. I am very much alive. The outlaws killed my dear maid when my company was attacked on the road to Clun. Because of her quick thinking, I escaped and found my way to Northbridge Castle.”

Edward motioned with his hand, and Catrin rose. Lady Rothmore, her stepmother, and Lord Leighton stood by the side of the dais. Catrin sensed their fear, but also Guy’s audacity as if his nefarious plans were nearing a satisfying conclusion. Nay! Not if she could help it. Not while there was breath in her body.

“And where is Olwen de Belleme, the lady of Northbridge?”

“At the nunnery of the White Ladies, if it so please your grace.”

“It does not please me. None of this knavery pleases me.” Edward stood, peering down from the dais. “Rise, Sir Bran, and acquit yourself.”

Bran climbed to his feet, lifting his chin valiantly like the brave knight he was. “Sire, I have done my duty to you and yours, as requested. I have married, as you graciously gave me leave, and tended to the people and lands of Northbridge.”

“Yet it appears you took holy vows with the wrong cousin.”

A murmur of disbelief rumbled through those in attendance. Tension seethed throughout the great hall. Catrin felt the pressure of it, the stress of condemnation and conviction.

“Your grace, Sir Bran is not at fault.” Catrin swallowed hard her dread, raising her voice high to speak for the man she loved. “’Twas my idea to dupe your humble servant. He knew nothing of my charade.”

“You say he believed you to be Olwen de Belleme?”

“Aye, sire.” For once, Catrin lowered her eyes, hoping to humble herself before her king.

“For what purpose did you play me false, my lady?”

“I chose this manner to seek out those who murdered my father and brother.”

“Your father was killed in combat.”

“So says Lord Leighton.” Catrin turned her eyes toward her stepmother’s lover. “I had no reason to believe the sole word of our neighbor. He has oft coveted Rothmore lands.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed. “Hearsay at best. What proof have you?”

“None, your grace. Yet today I overheard Lord Leighton admit to sending cutthroats to murder me.”

Guy de Hastings stepped forward. “Lie!”

Edward inclined his head at the nobleman to silence him. “Once again, your word against one of my trusted lords,” he said to Catrin.

Her head spun. Isadora knew nothing of the truth. Richard had heard the same conversation, but he was not here. She was loath to single out her brother, for his life might be in jeopardy if this audience with the king did not go well. She could not trust her stepmother to protect her son from Leighton.

“The two men who attacked me on the road to Clun are dead.” Catrin was forced to admit.

“Slain by Bran ap Madog,” Lord Leighton charged, his voice high-pitched.

Bran stepped forward as if to attack his accuser. Catrin’s hand stayed him, then she squared her shoulders and spoke proudly, “My husband saved my life.”

The assembled noble men and ladies whispered their shock when they heard Catrin claim to be Bran’s wife.

“And so we return to the problem at hand,” Edward said. “Your treachery to the crown.”

In a quiet, penitent voice, Catrin explained her reasoning for sending Olwen away and taking her place to gain the confidence of the man she considered the murderer of her brother and father. She was careful to leave out Olwen’s shyness, for no one need know her cousin’s fear of bedding the King’s Raven. Catrin was careful to lay full blame upon herself.

“I thought, at first, Sir Bran had plotted to destroy my family. Married to him, I soon saw a different side of the king’s knight. Bran was kind, but firm, generous to those at Northbridge. He could not have murdered my family.” Catrin turned toward Isadora and her lover. “It was Lord Leighton, your grace. He plans to wed my stepmother. You see, with all of us gone, and Lady Rothmore under his thumb, he controls the Rothmore lands until my brother Richard is of age. And now I fear even more for his life. ”

Hearing her words, Isadora gasped. “You lie! A vicious lie! My stepdaughter has always hated me!”

“Enough!” King Edward’s cry silenced them. He turned to Bran. “What say you, Bran ap Madog? You have served me faithfully, as many here. Tell me why I should not punish you and this woman?”

Bran straightened his stance. He was a proud man, Catrin knew. She had put him in this place when all he had wanted was a family of his own, when all he’d given her was his love and trust. Aching for him, she stood quietly. What more could she do for the man she loved?

“You must punish me, your grace,” Bran said. “I have failed you. Yet you must not rebuke Lady Catrin. What she has done comes from a good heart and from devotion and loyalty to her family. She is the woman I love. I will gladly become a poor knight again, if you will spare my wife and reprimand me.”

King Edward took his seat, gripping the arms of his throne. “You have presented me with a difficult problem, Sir Raven. I am not wont to let perfidy go unpunished.”

“Then punish the one who has truly betrayed you!” A small voice resounded through the hushed crowd. “Make way! Let me by! I will speak to the king.”

The crowd parted opening a tiny path for a slight, frail boy. Richard, the current Lord Rothmore, strode through the throng, his flowing black robes flapping with each stride.

“Richard!” His mother took a step toward him, but Lord Leighton was faster. He drew a blade and rushed the approaching child.

Bran sprang into action, catching the schemer’s wrist and shaking the knife free. Sir Otto’s men joined in the fight. In a blink of an eye, they had captured both men, bound them, and brought them to stand before the king.

Edward’s expression did not change. It remained hard, unforgiving. “I grow tired of this drama,” he said. “Guy de Hastings, your actions have proven your guilt. Sir Otto, take him away to await his trial.” He waved his hand, and the hapless Lord Leighton was paraded from the great hall to the jeers of the crowd.

Catrin moved forward to stand beside her husband. Together they awaited the king’s pleasure.

Seeing her overture of support, Edward’s eyes soften. “For the rest of you, the crown will decide your fate,” he said, hiding a smile. “If I can untangle this scandalous web you’ve woven.”