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G unnilde glanced over her shoulder a few times during the procession to the throne room.

She was sure they must look a ragtag bunch.

Kit had mud splattered up his legs, Neville carried a brimming wine jug, and as for Hal, he wore his mystery lady’s favor upon one arm and had his little dog tucked under the other.

Cuthbert must have changed his outfit in preparation for the next event, for he wore a padded gambeson instead of a tunic. Still, none of them looked remotely abashed about their appearance, so Gunnilde decided she, too, would have to shrug off her unease.

On reaching the throne room, the guards saluted Sir Palmerston and stood aside to grant them entrance. Things were set out very formally within. The King was sat upon his dais, a forbidding frown upon his face. Next to him stood Lord Schaeffer, one of his senior advisers.

Lord Schaeffer had an expression of distaste upon his face and looked as though he had swallowed something nasty.

Gunnilde thought it was plain he was not enjoying proceedings so far.

A large crowd of courtiers were packed into the back of the room with guards placed at intervals to keep them at a sufficient distance.

Stood in the middle of the floor facing the King was a group of disgruntled-looking men who Gunnilde guessed must be Constance’s kinsmen. They were bearded, wore old-fashioned cotehardies and matching expressions of belligerence.

Beside them stood Constance, dressed modestly in a blue gown and holding a devotional book clutched in one hand.

Despite the studied demureness of her appearance, her head was flung back, her eyes flashed with scorn, and her color was high.

She looked, Gunnilde thought enviously, the very image of a haughty beauty.

Stood at some distance again was Sir Douglas, holding himself aloof from the Northcotts.

He looked uncharacteristically bad-tempered.

These clearly consisted of the principal players in the matter.

Now their party was escorted to the fore, and made another grouping, at least as large as the Northcott faction.

“Your Majesty,” Sir Palmerston announced, “the Wycliffes have answered your summons.”

“Approach, approach,” King Wymer said, rotating his hand.

James took a step forward and bowed. “What is your will, Your Majesty?”

“Well, well,” the King said, his eye traveling over them. “Brought the family along, have you? Only fair, I suppose.” He brightened a little on spotting Hal. “Hah, young Payne, is it? Won any ribbons this morn?” he asked with a flicker of interest.

“Not today, Your Highness, but Montmayne here just took the win for the long jump.”

“Did he indeed? Well, good for you.” Kit bowed.

“Hear you caught the Queen’s eye last night, Montmayne.

She tells me she wants to see more of you and Ames at court.

” Cuthbert bowed too, but the King’s attention had already returned to his own favorite.

“Hear you struck my fine Sir Symond a blow last night.” He chuckled.

“He’s a fiery temper and took it very ill, or so I hear. ”

“I believe I had cause,” Hal replied mildly.

“Insulted your dog, did he?” the King replied, striking his thigh and then bursting into loud guffaws at his little joke.

Lord Schaeffer coughed, and the King cleared his throat. “Ah, well, best return to this matter at hand, I suppose.” He sighed. “Heard about this wretched business, have you, Wycliffe?” he asked, turning back to James.

James hesitated. “I have heard a rumor, Your Highness, that an annulment is being sought of the union of Sir Douglas and his bride.”

The King nodded. “True enough. True enough. And what say you to that, sir?”

“Me, sire?” James’s eyebrows rose. “Why very little, Your Majesty. What business is it of mine?”

The Northcotts started rumbling at this, but the King swung around and bent a ferocious glare on them. “You have already had the floor, sir!” he roared in Sir Elias’s direction. “If I wish to hear from you further, I will let you know!” They relapsed into chastened silence.

“It has been suggested,” the King began cautiously, “that you might be an interested party. That in fact, you might feel similarly about your own wedded state.”

“I dare assure you, sire—” James started, but the King had already turned to Gunnilde.

“And you, Hilde?” he boomed. “What have you to say in the matter?”

Gunnilde curtseyed and stepped forward to stand beside her husband. “I am heartily sorry to hear that Sir Douglas and Lady Constance’s match has not worked out,” she began contritely, “but—”

“There will be no annulment of our marriage bond,” James’s words rang out clear as a bell.

Gasps and whispers had started toward the back of the room. Lord Schaeffer made a hushing motion with his hands that was largely ignored.

Gunnilde made another attempt. “You see—” she began desperately.

“In any case, there are no grounds,” James cut in smoothly. “Our marriage has been consummated. Many times, sire,” he added just in case there was any doubt on the matter.

Gunnilde’s face flamed at the titillated gasps of the ladies and the barely suppressed chortles of the men.

The King gave an approving grunt. “Well, I’m glad to hear it! At least someone here behaves as they ought!”

Gunnilde could not believe how shamelessly James was acting. His usual reserve seemed to have gone quite out of the window! She cast an open-mouthed look his way, but he met her incredulous gaze quite calmly.

“I must also add that if anyone were to attempt to wrest my wife from me, I would be forced to take measures to counteract them,” he continued calmly.

“Oh, yes?” The King stirred in his seat with interest. “What sort of measures might those be?” he asked with grudging curiosity.

“I would be forced to fly with her,” he replied at once.

“And put up somewhere fortified until the issue was resolved in my favor. I have kinsmen and friends whose sword arms I could rely upon.” He turned back to indicate Hal, Cuthbert, Kit, and Neville.

Their hands clapped at once to their daggers; all save Neville, who carried none.

Still, he straightened up with his wine jug, looking grimly resolved.

“Is that so?” The King sounded entertained.

“Well, well. Good for you. Good for you, Wycliffe. You’re not chicken-hearted, I’ll give you that.

” He looked across at the other party. “What about you, Farleigh?” Sir Douglas, looking pale, pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Speak up, I say!” roared the King. “This man says he’ll guard his wife with his sword and his honor. What say you to that?”

Sir Douglas lifted his chin, looking resolute. “Naught, save this, Your Highness. You can have mine, and welcome.”

Again, the crowd erupted with gasps and laughter. Constance, who had been trembling with suppressed fury and mortification at his side, finally snapped.

“You hateful beast!” she screamed and flew at Douglas, raining blows upon his chest. Sir Douglas stood there still as a statue, until she finally collapsed against him, sobbing and spent. Awkwardly, he closed his arms about her, supporting her, though he would not look at her face.

The crowd pressed closer, all agog. “Well, whoever would have thought that prim Lady Constance was such a shrew?” Gunnilde heard Lady Schaeffer say with relish.

“If I’d known she wasn’t a crushing bore I’d have cultivated her company sooner,” her friend replied dryly.

“Silence!” the King bellowed. “I can’t hear above all this noise.” He glared beadily at the courtiers until they fell silent, then turned back to Douglas. “You don’t want the troublesome wench anymore, is that it?” he asked, pursing his lips. “I can’t say as I blame you.”

Douglas’s face hardened. “In truth, she has given me little right to protect her or call her mine. She no longer wants me and she’s made that much plain.” Constance’s breathing hitched and she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes still swimming with tears.

Gunnilde’s nose quivered. She did not think it looked so plain at this moment in time. She went to take a step forward, but James’s hand closed firmly about hers, holding her fast. He gave her a warning look, as though to say Do not interfere .

“Mmm, and now you’re tired of her,” the King pronounced with a gusty sigh. “Well, this is a pretty state of affairs. If you’re going to elope with a man you need to have made up your mind from the outset, madam! You can’t be shilly-shallying about with one foot in and one foot out!”

“Take this pair for your example,” he said, gesturing toward James and Gunnilde.

“They made up their minds to have each other and nothing stands in their way. That’s what you need to stand the test of marriage.

Grim determination. It’s a bloody business and not for the faint of heart, I can tell you that much! ”

Constance gave a muffled sob, and the double doors at the other end of the chamber burst open. It was Queen Armenal with her attendants.

“Make way for the Queen!” Piers Winstanley called out, leading the way. The crowd gasped and reluctantly fell back, leaving the newcomers a clear path through to the front. Even from a distance Gunnilde could see Queen Armenal was in a high temper.

“What is all this, occurring without my presence?” the Queen demanded, her eyes raking over them all. “This affair is one of my own making!” she asserted. “How dare you all try to cut me out of proceedings at this late point in the day!”

“Well, my dear, you were indisposed ,” the King said significantly, waggling his eyebrows. “I didn’t wish to have you bothered at such a time.”

Armenal turned very pink at this mention, even indirectly of her morning sickness. “Nonsense!” she spluttered. “I needed only an hour or two for it to pass! You have been high-handed, abominably high-handed in this matter, Wymer!”