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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“B astards!” Julian screamed. “There is no doubt in my mind that de Lohr took my wife. There could be no other explanation!”

The Sheriff of Ealing, Lord Bardwell, stood just inside the door of Julian’s lavish apartments at the Tower of London. He had come to deliver the news that several of Baron Buckland’s men had been massacred out on Ealing Road, the main drive from Oxford to London. They had found eight men in total, all with their throats slit, men bearing the insignia of Baron Buckland.

So they had come to London to seek Buckland because one of the sheriff’s men had heard that Buckland was staying at the tower. The man was a fixture around London and a known companion of the queen, so the sheriff and his men had proceeded to the Tower to let the baron know of his misfortune. The baron, a wily man with a bad smell about him, had exploded.

“My lord, I saw nothing that would indicate the de Lohrs had anything to do with the murder of your men,” the sheriff explained. “Your men were set upon by bandits. Their money and anything else of value was missing and the horses gone.”

Julian went mad. He began kicking over chairs and trying to wrest legs off tables. The sheriff stood back, well out of the way, as Julian began hurling things towards the hearth. Things were shattering everywhere.

“Where is my wife?” Julian howled.

“We found no trace of a woman, my lord.”

Julian roared. “But she was with them,” he screamed, staggering to a table near the door and pulling a small piece of vellum off the surface. “This is the missive they sent to me telling me that they had found my wife and were bringing her to London.”

The sheriff remained stoic in the face of the vellum being shaken under his nose. “As I said, my lord, there was no trace of any woman. If she was with them, the bandits must have carried her off.”

Julian didn’t agree with that assessment. He waved the vellum in the man’s face a few more times before letting it fall to the ground. “One of my men arrived earlier today with this missive. It clearly says that my wife was at Trelystan and that my men are bringing her to London. And now you tell me that the entire escort has been murdered and there is no sign of my wife?”

“Nay, my lord.”

Julian exploded again, kicking over a table that held a lit taper on it. As it fell to the floor and ignited the rushes that were nearby, the sheriff watched the fire gain steam with some concern as Julian continued to rant. Finally, the sheriff moved to the rushes and stamped out the fire, thinking perhaps that it was time for him to leave. He had delivered his message, apparently to a madman, and was eager to be gone.

“He has taken her,” Julian seethed. “There is a conspiracy with de Lohr and de Lara to keep my wife from me. I will not have it, do you hear? I will not have it!”

The sheriff was inching back towards the door, silently motioning for his men to quit the chamber. He was very near the door as he spoke.

“Perhaps you should ask the Earl of Hereford personally,” he suggested. “The man came through Ealing earlier tonight and brought an entire army with him. Perhaps he took her.”

Julian froze mid-rant. “He is here with an army?”

The sheriff nodded. “I saw him myself, my lord.”

Julian stared at the man a moment before resuming his madness full-bore. He screamed and fell to his knees, shaking his fists at the sky.

“That is my army,” he howled. “It is the army for Isabella, for her lands in France. Now he will not give me the manpower I requested because of his stupid brother and… arrrrrrrggggggggg !”

He was off on a serious tangent, tearing into the fine cushions that lined an oak bench and ripping them apart with his bare hands. The sheriff watched him for a few moments before quitting the room. The man was quite mad and he did not want to fall victim to his violence.

Unaware the sheriff had left until he had ripped all of the pillows to shreds, Julian eventually noticed he was alone in the sumptuous chamber. Panting, exhausted, he began to think of all of the things that had gone wrong for him, starting when he had met with Baron Thornden at Dunster those months ago. The day that Gart Forbes had arrived, everything had gone awry.

It was still going awry. Isabella no longer favored him and he knew it was only a matter of time before he was kicked out of his Tower apartments and out of favor completely. His alliance with the de Lohr brothers had collapsed thanks to Gart Forbes’ interference. Although he could not link Gart to his wife’s presence at Trelystan Castle, he was sure that Forbes had something to do with it as well. The man had invaded his life and stolen his wife, picking away at the very fabric of his existence piece by piece. Julian had to do something before it was gone completely. He had to do something before Forbes destroyed him.

Going to Bellham had not accomplished anything. In fact, it had only made things worse. Now the Earl of Hereford was here, no doubt, being fed lies by his brother and Forbes. Julian knew he could no longer count on the earl’s support. But the fact that Julian had promised Isabella manpower for her war in France was nil. If he was out of favor, there were others to provide armies and money to her. She didn’t need him any longer.

Gasping, sick, Julian staggered over to the pitcher of wine against the far wall, a lovely pitcher in a pewter container, and drank heavily from the pitcher’s rim. Red wine poured down his neck and he sloppily wiped it away. He had to think and think hard on how to retrieve his wife from the de Lohrs and how to beat them at their own game.

That was the trouble– the de Lohrs were one of the most powerful families in England. No one was stronger than they were, except for the king, but he knew that John would never come to his aid. Since Julian had been sleeping with the man’s wife, the king had no great love or loyalty towards him. So the matter was in finding someone stronger than the de Lohrs, someone who could force them to turn over Emberley. The strongest man, or strongest army, in all of England would be needed to convince them.

Outside, the church bells rang, signaling the onset of Matins, or pre-dawn prayers. Julian heard the bells, turning in the direction of the sound as a thought came over him. Perhaps he didn’t need the strongest man or strongest army to overcome the de Lohrs. Perhaps all he needed was a single man with the army of God behind him, someone who could evoke the holy law of the Church, the law that all men bowed to. Even the de Lohrs would have to obey.

As the bells continued to ring, Julian smiled. Finally, he had his answer.

*

Jonas couldn’t decide if he was perturbed or exhausted. Perhaps a little of both. He drank heavily of the wine that was given to him, wiping his mouth on his rough, woolen sleeve.

The low-ceilinged solar was dark but for the fire in the hearth, a foreboding place at the moment. David stood a few feet from Jonas, arms folded over his chest and a concerned expression on his face. He hadn’t said a word since taking the priest into the solar and producing a hefty quantity of wine for the man. It seemed as if he needed the fortification. As he stood there and watched him, Christopher entered the solar and quietly shut the door.

“Forbes will be here directly,” he told them both. Then he looked at the priest. “What is this about?”

Jonas gazed up at the earl, a man who was well-known throughout England. He was something of a legend, even at his young age. After a moment, the priest sighed heavily and set his chalice of wine on the table.

“I would presume you know what your brother and Gart asked of me,” he said.

Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “I do,” he crossed his arms, passing a glance at David. The priest’s role in Forbes’ situation had brought the most heat from Christopher. “I cannot say that I agree with what was asked of you. They were wrong to manipulate you into such a position.”

Jonas waved him off. “My lord, surely there have been times in your life when you have bent the rules to your own satisfaction or done something that perhaps you should not have simply because it was the right thing to do.” He took another drink of wine. “This is one of those times.”

Christopher pursed his lips and shook his head, hanging it in deep thought as he stared at the ground. He wasn’t sure what more he could say to that, mostly because he had, in fact, done things in his life that he should not have done simply because he believed they were the right things to do. He didn’t want to get into a lengthy discussion about it.

As he stood there in contemplative silence, the door to the solar opened again and Gart appeared. The knight looked rather anxious, unusual for the normally calm man, as he stepped inside and closed the door. He faced the priest expectantly.

“I was told you wanted to speak with me,” he said quietly.

Jonas looked at the knight, suddenly feeling a great deal of sorrow for the man. He finally grunted and ran his fingers through his dark hair, feeling the stubble on the bald spot at the top of his scalp. He did not delay in what he had to tell him.

“The queen came to confession today,” he said, lowering his voice. “I knew she would come because it is the ending of a holy holiday and she always comes immediately after the cessation of a holiday. It would seem she always has a great deal to confess. I sat in the confessionals for six hours waiting for her to come and when she finally did, she… well, suffice it to say that she did mention a man she had relations with. When I asked his name, she did not say Julian de Moyon. It would seem that our queen has a new lover.”

He stopped abruptly and Gart lifted his eyebrows, encouraging the man to continue. “And? What happened? Did you not speak of de Moyon at all?”

Jonas shook his head. “That is what I am trying to tell you,” he said. “I cannot tell her to convince Buckland to divorce his wife in penance for their affair because she is apparently no longer giving her affections to the man. To bring up his name on my own would have appeared suspicious. I was unable to make the suggestion at all.”

Gart stared at him. “But you said that Buckland comes to you for confession also. You can suggest it to him directly.”

Jonas waved him off, weary and disheartened. “He only comes with Isabella and he was not with her today. I doubt he will come on his own. He never has before.”

Gart could see that the priest felt they were at an impasse on their plan. He struggled not to become agitated, knowing that would only cause problems. These people were trying to help him and he knew it. After a moment of staring blankly at the priest, he simply turned away and paced into the dark shadows of the room.

“There must be some way to speak with him,” he finally said, looking like a phantom in the darkened corner of the room. “He must go to confession somewhere.”

“I would not ask of a fellow priest what you have asked of me,” Jonas said in a low voice. “Buckland must come to me or this plan will not come to fruition. I will not pull anyone else down into this quagmire of deceit and manipulation you are breeding.”

It was a struggle for Gart not to snap at the man, but he did stiffen, a precursor to the sach rage that often filled him. As he turned away, laboring for words that would not sound aggressive or angry, there was a knock at the solar door. Christopher was standing the closest and he opened the panel.

Emberley stood in the dim light of the hall, dressed in a ravishing scarlet surcoat that Emilie had loaned her. Her luscious blond hair was plaited into a lovely braid that draped over one shoulder and, in truth, she looked radiant and beautiful, even in the dead of night. She smiled timidly at Christopher when their eyes met.

“Gart asked me to come, my lord,” she said softly. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

Gart was already moving for the door when he heard her voice as Christopher opened the panel wider to invite her in.

“Not at all, my lady,” Christopher said. “We welcome your company.”

Her smile turned genuine as she stepped into the room. Gart took her hand immediately, kissing it sweetly and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. As he pulled her deeper into the room, he pulled her towards the seated priest. As the fire in the hearth crackled softly, he faced off against Jonas.

“This,” he said pointedly, “is the Lady Emberley de Moyon. This is what I am fighting for, priest. Know that even though you failed in your attempt to aid us, I will find another way. There is always another way. I will not stop until I have her or I will die trying.”

Emberley’s wide eyes moved between Gart and the priest. At his last few words, she looked rather ill.

“Gart?” she whispered. “What has happened?”

Gart wouldn’t look at her. His intense green eyes were focused on the priest. He suddenly let go of Emberley’s hand, putting his big palms on her face as if to frame it.

“Look at her,” he growled at Jonas. “Look at this face. It is the most beautiful face you have ever seen. Can you look her in the eye and tell her that you will send her back to the husband that beats and humiliates her? Can you tell her that the Church holds no sympathy for her because she is the property of a monster?”

By this time, Emberley was tearing up. Her big eyes were gazing at Gart, seeing a side of him she had never seen before. He was bitter and brutal. Even though it was not directed at her, still, it was disturbing.

Jonas’ gaze was on the lady as she looked apprehensively at Gart. She was an exquisite woman, no doubt. He’d never seen finer. He couldn’t imagine a man taking his fists to such a fragile creature. After a moment, he simply shook his head.

“Let her go,” he told Gart with gruff gentleness, reaching up to take the lady’s hand himself. “Sit down, my lady. We must speak. Gart, go stand over there somewhere. Leave us alone for a moment.”

Emberley allowed the priest to pull her down into a chair opposite him. He was an older man with a kind face but she was still apprehensive. She knew that Gart was right behind her because she could feel him, like always. She always knew when he was near whether or not she could see him. With anticipation, she sat before the priest, focused intently on him.

Jonas smiled at her, trying to settle the mood down after Gart’s outburst.

“I am Father Jonas,” he said politely. “My church is St. Bartholomew. Have you heard of it?”

Emberley shook her head. “I am sorry, I have not.”

Jonas sat forward, holding her hand. “Did Gart tell you what he has asked of me?”

She nodded hesitantly. “He did.”

“What do you think about it?”

She paused, many different thoughts rolling through her head. She suspected he was looking for a righteous answer but she found that she could not give him one. She stared at his hand as it held hers, formulating her thoughts.

“I was raised by parents who were very devout,” she began slowly, softly. “I have always believed in God and the laws of the Church. When Julian and I were first introduced, he seemed kind and attentive. He can be quite charming when he wants to be. I was sure I had married a man who was kind and respectful. But on our wedding night, he became ragingly drunk and raped me for most of the night. When he was not raping me, he was beating me.”

She looked up from her hands to see Jonas’ serious expression. She knew that Gart was behind her, supporting her, and it fed her courage. She cleared her throat softly and continued.

“When I became pregnant with Romney, he told me that he would kill me if it was not a boy,” she said. “When Romney was born, I wept with relief because I was sure he would have carried out his threat. I was pregnant again soon after Romney’s birth but when I was about five months with child, he pushed me down a flight of stairs and killed the child. He blamed me for the death, of course, and took me out into the countryside where he dumped me in a grove of trees and left me to die. I lay there a day and night, in the rain, until he returned for me. Then I lay ill for months with an infection in my chest that nearly killed me. And all of this was only the first two years we were married.”

She could feel Gart’s hand on her shoulder, strong and steady, and she turned to see that he had tears in his eyes. She smiled faintly, patting his hand gently, before returning to the priest.

“I suppose the point I will make is that although I believe in God, I surely believe in the Devil because I am married to him,” she squeezed the priest’s hand. “If you return me to Julian, I have no doubt that he will kill me. I must get away from him any way I can, even if it is by means of a divorce. I think that you are a saint for trying to help me and I think Gart is a saint for asking you to do it. He has been my angel and I love him more than anything else on this earth.”

Jonas listened to her story with a heavy heart. He sighed heavily and let go of her hand, sitting back in his chair to contemplate her story. He rubbed at his chin as if the gesture helped him to sort through this mess.

“I was unable to execute our plan,” he said. “But in speaking with you, I can say with truth that I no longer have any reserve about the rightness of a divorce from your husband. If even half of what you say is true, then your husband is a beast. But that unfortunately does not change the fact that he is your husband and, by rights, can do as he pleases with you. I am sorry if that is something you do not want to hear, but it is the truth.”

The calm expression on Emberley’s face vanished. She bolted out of the seat, stumbling, her gaze searching for Gart. He was already heading for her, moving out of the shadows with his arms outstretched. She collapsed in the safety of his embrace.

“I will not go back to him,” she hissed.

Gart held her tightly, his gaze moving between Christopher and David and the priest.

“You will not,” he said firmly. “I will not allow it.”

David, having remained largely silent through the exchange, spoke from his chair near the hearth.

“You worry overly,” he told them. “Just because the priest could not tell Isabella to force Buckland into a divorce does not mean that hope is lost. It simply means that we will have to try another avenue.”

Jonas could see how upset the lady was. Truth was that he didn’t blame her. But facts were facts and he was struggling to think of another avenue to follow, something that would end the lady’s suffering as well as her marriage. More than that, he could see in just the few minutes he had spent with Gart and Emberley how much they loved one another. There was genuine concern and adoration between them, and he felt a great deal of pity for them both.

“If de Moyon cannot be convinced to divorce his wife, then what?” Jonas asked.

Gart held Emberley against his chest, his enormous hand on her blond head as he cradled it against his sternum. His intense gaze was even more powerful than usual.

“I will take her and the children and we will flee,” he said in a low voice. “We will go someplace safe where no one can find us, least of all Buckland. I will never let her go back to him, not ever.”

In the darkness, David and Christopher passed long glances. Gart served David and was essentially telling the man that he would recant his oath and run, with or without his liege’s approval. David had known that from the beginning, however, and wasn’t particularly upset by it. But he was silently begging his brother for his wisdom in the matter. Christopher knew this, avoiding his brother’s pleading gaze until he could avoid it no longer. He sighed heavily, putting his thoughts into words. These thoughts were coming from the heart more than his head.

“When I was in The Levant with Richard, I took a different route home than our king,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “My army passed through many different countries and kingdoms and when we were in a particular area called Burgenland, we happened upon a castle under siege. At first we attempted to give the siege a wide berth, but a panicked priest begged for our aid so I complied. It would seem that we aided the Lord of Lockenhaus Castle, or Burg Lockenhaus as they called it, and the lord was so grateful that upon his death, he willed the castle to me. It is still mine, with a contingent of soldiers to man it because it sits at the head of a well-traveled valley with mountains as tall as the sky.”

By this time, Emberley had stopped weeping and was listening to the earl intently. Christopher held her gaze as he moved away from the door and into the heart of the room, his focus serious.

“I have no doubt that what you have told us is true, my lady,” he said quietly. “Your young son told me essentially the same story. I cannot imagine the hell you have endured at the hands of the man who is supposed to protect you. Because I have a wife I adore, I can understand Gart’s feelings for you, right or wrong, and will therefore make you this pledge– if Buckland cannot be convinced to divorce you by proper means, then I will send you and Gart to Lockenhaus Castle where you may live your lives free of Buckland’s horror. He will never find you there. But the caveat is that Gart will continue to serve me, as my garrison commander. Will this be acceptable?”

Emberley stared at the man in shock. “Ac… acceptable, my lord? Are you serious?”

“Or course.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Emberley pulled herself free of Gart’s embrace and went to the earl, gently grasping one of his enormous hands. The look in her eye was beyond the scope of words. It was thanks beyond measure.

“My husband often spoke of you with ill-favor, my lord, stating that he believed you were Richard’s trained dog, now forced to do tricks for a new master because John sat upon the throne,” she said softly. “It was all I knew of you until yesterday. Now I see that you are a kind and generous man beyond compare, with compassion and understanding that most men do not have. Even as I stand here, I consider myself extremely fortunate to have met you. My thanks is not sufficient for what you have proposed, but please know that you have my undying gratitude.”

Christopher smiled at the woman, seeing why Gart loved her so. She was sweet, gentle and gracious. It made him that much more protective over her and her son, more determined than ever to see them to safety with Gart.

Finally, the tides had turned and he was no longer resistant to their quest. Now he was on their side. Christopher squeezed her hand gently before turning to the priest.

“You will seek out Buckland and offer a proposal,” he told him. “If he will divorce his wife, I will provide compensation of ten thousand gold marks and Ryton Castle in Worcestershire. Tell him that this offer is non-negotiable and if he does not comply, I will make his life hell until the day he dies. Is this in any way unclear?”

Wide-eyed, Jonas rose from his chair. “It is clear, my lord,” he replied. “You will pay the man to divorce his wife?”

“I will compensate him for his loss.”

“On what grounds will he base the divorce?”

Christopher looked at the stunned Emberley and the equally stunned Gart. “Adultery,” he said softly. Then he shrugged. “The Church would not contest such a thing.”

After a long and tense moment, Jonas nodded his head sharply in agreement. With nothing more to be said, David moved out of the shadows, hastily taking the priest by the arm and escorting the man to the door. Jonas passed by Emberley on his way out and his dark eyes fixed on her.

“I will do my best, my lady,” he assured her softly. “Have faith that God understands your plight. He will not fail you.”

Emberley nodded to his statement, watching the man quit the room with David on his heels. As she stood there with tears in her eyes, saying a thousand silent prayers of thanks to a God that had never particularly listened to her, Gart went over to Christopher.

His handsome face was soft with humility and gratitude. “My lord,” he began quietly. “What you have offered for the lady’s divorce… I do not have the means to compensate you, but rest assured that I will. I will pay you back every pence.”

Christopher was feeling exhausted, satisfied, pleased that he could assist. He clapped Gart on the shoulder.

“The day you saved my brother’s life was the day I became indebted to you,” he said softly. “No price is too high to pay, Gart, and certainly not ten thousand marks and a broken down castle. You have proved your worth a thousand times over and I am happy to pay you back in any way I can.”

Gart smiled modestly. “I am proud to serve the House of de Lohr,” he said, eyeing Christopher after a moment. “Will I like Lockenhaus Castle or is my outpost to be in the snowy wilds of the East?”

Christopher snorted. “You will like it fine if you are a mountain goat,” he told him. “This castle sits so high on the mountain that God will be your neighbor.”

Gart laughed softly, turning to look at Emberley as she moved away from the door to join them. He reached out, stroking her blond head.

“I will have my angel with me,” he said softly, his eyes shining with adoration for the woman. “That is all that matters.”

Emberley smiled. “And the children as well,” she reminded him. “Did you tell Lord Christopher that my boys will ensure that anyone entering his keep will be forced to give tribute? He should be a very rich man in little time.”

Christopher looked questioningly at Gart as the man shook his head in resignation.

“She means that her boys rob anyone they come across,” he told him. “I fear for our new neighbors. If they come to visit, they will be set upon by bandits within the keep.”

Christopher looked at them both in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me that Master Romney is a thief? I do not believe such slander.”

Gart laughed. “I have such stories to tell you that you will fear for your own life from Romney.”

He told the earl everything and as Gart had promised, Christopher made his way to his bedchamber later that night, looking over his shoulder for a small boy with a very big stick and demands for coinage.