By His Majesty's Grace. Jennifer Blake

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СКАЧАТЬ Bray, a Norman also faithful in the service of the duchess who had recently been appointed chancellor of County Palantine and the duchy of Lancaster. Not one of them smiled.

      “I have nothing at all to fear,” Rand repeated firmly, “being at a loss for the cause of the charge against me.”

      Henry pressed his lips together for an instant before making a small gesture of one hand. “You recently entertained a guest sent to you for security and succor in her confinement for childbirth. We are told she is no longer with you. Have you knowledge of this lady you would wish to impart to us?”

      Sick dread shifted inside Rand at the pronouncement. He felt Isabel stir beside him, but could spare no attention to discover what she made of the charge.

      “Unfortunately not, sire,” he replied in tones as even as he could make them. “The lady remained with me for seven weeks and was delivered of her child in due time. When last I set eyes upon her, she was healthy and hearty and on her way to you.”

      “To us?”

      “Under the guard of your men-at-arms sent to escort her to a manse described as a reward for her travail.”

      The king frowned upon him. “Take care what you say, Braesford. We sent no guard.”

      Beside Rand, Isabel drew a hissing breath. He could hardly blame her, for he felt as if a battering ram had thudded into his stomach. Glancing down, he saw her eyes were wide and her soft carmine lips parted, though she instantly composed her features to unconcern again as she met his gaze.

      She was every inch an aristocrat this evening, he saw, standing with regal pride in a gown of some dark gold velvet almost the same shade as her hair, and which revealed an edging of her chemise that was embroidered in gold thread at the neckline and her sleeve ends. Her cap was the same, as were the edges of her veil, which came down to her elbows. His chest swelled with an odd pride at the fact that she stood at his side, however reluctantly.

      “Upon my honor, sire, a troop of men came for her,” he answered at last.

      “And the babe?”

      “Went with her, of course, held in her arms. I would have sent to let you know of their departure, but the message brought by the captain of your guard forbade communication for discretion’s sake. Besides, I thought you knew already.”

      “Yes. We understand what you mean to say. Nevertheless, we have had another account from one who watches over the northern section of our realm. It adds to a rumor reported to us by a second source.”

      The king paused, his gaze inscrutable. Rand, meeting the pale blue eyes, searching the long, square-jawed face with its small red mole near the mouth, felt his heart bang against his ribs. “If I may ask,” he said after an interminable moment, “what would this rumor be?”

      Henry sat forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. “On the night this lady went into labor, she encountered difficulties. You sent for a midwife familiar with such complications. Do we have it correct thus far?”

      “Indeed, sire.”

      “The midwife arrived and the child was delivered while you remained close to make certain all was well. In fact, you were in the same room. Is this not so?”

      Rand inclined his head in acquiescence, though the dread of where this might be heading was like a lead weight inside him.

      “The midwife, a woman of middle years but with no problem with her eyesight, swears that a girl child was born in due time. She was perfect, in every particular, and cried lustily as she came into the world. The midwife swears that you, Sir Randall Braesford, immediately took the child and left the birthing chamber with it, walking into the next room and closing the door. She says that during the considerable time while she made the new mother comfortable and cleared away the signs of birth, the child was never heard to cry again.”

      “Young Madeleine, as her mother named her, quieted as I held her,” Rand began, but stopped at a regal gesture for silence.

      “We are not done,” Henry said with precision. “It seems the midwife was not permitted to remain with the lady, but was given a generous reward and hustled away as soon as her job was complete. And she claims that, as she went away, she recognized the stench of burning flesh from the rooms she had just left behind.”

      Isabel gave a small cry and put a hand to her mouth. The king’s mother looked ill, while Morton and Bray stood in grim-faced condemnation. Rand had to swallow on bile before he could speak.

      “No! A thousand times, no!”

      “You deny the charge.”

      “On my honor, I burned no child,” he insisted. “I cannot say whether the midwife lied or merely misunderstood what she saw and heard, but Mademoiselle d’Amboise’s infant daughter was asleep in my arms when the midwife mounted pillion behind my man and rode away. The child suckled at her mother’s breast later. She was well and most decidedly alive when she left Braesford. This I swear on God’s holy word and the wings of all his angels.”

      “Nevertheless, we have heard nothing from Mademoiselle Juliette since you sent to inform us that she had been delivered of a daughter. She has not appeared in her usual place, has not been seen since she entered the gates at Braesford. Where, then,” the king ended with quiet simplicity, “is the lady now?”

      It was an excellent question. Rand wished he had the answer. He swallowed, made a helpless gesture with one hand. “I can’t begin guess, my liege. All I can say is that a mounted guard of men-at-arms came and took her away.”

      “They had orders, we presume? You did not give the lady and her child up without a written directive?”

      “I was shown a scroll with your signature and seal,” he replied with a short nod.

      “You knew the captain of this guard?”

      “I didn’t, no. But as you surely understand, sire, I’ve spent many years beyond England’s shores and no few months away from court. Not all your officers and men-at-arms are familiar to me.”

      “Nor to us,” Henry said drily. “But why would anyone mount such an elaborate and mysterious charade?”

      Rand opened his mouth to speak, but the king’s mother was before him.

      “It seems clear the intent is evil,” she said, her soft, even tones in stark contrast to her words. “The purpose can only be to embroil the crown in an affair with a whiff about it of the dead princes in the Tower.”

      “Yes.” Grim acceptance sat on Henry’s face.

      It was a pertinent thought. Given the shaky start to Henry’s reign, and his tenuous claim to the throne, anything which identified him with the murder of Edward IV’s young sons could bring on a groundswell of contempt that might well harden into opposition. In the right hands, it could even become grounds for blaming that three-year-old murder of the princes, if such it had been, on him, as well. Though he had been out of the country at the time, the members of his faction, including those ringleaders now in the room, had not. They could therefore be blamed for carrying out the deed in his name.

      “Another purpose could be to acquire a hostage against future need,” Isabel said in clear suggestion.

      Rand СКАЧАТЬ