Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (33 page)

Simon stared him down, saying nothing but radiating disapproval. “Can you gain me access to the prison where
Jack
is being held?”

Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know. I can get you into the Tower, but beyond that it’s up to you.”

“Very well,” Simon nodded.

“Come on, little man,” Ethan said to Wulfric, starting toward the kitchen door. “Let’s see if we can’t find someone to mind you this morning.”

Bess was up and buzzing in the kitchen as usual and was more than happy to have Wulfric help her
slice turnips
for the day’s stew. As soon as Ethan was sure
the boy
was distracted he strode out into the courtyard. He nodded to Simon, who followed him out into the street.

Neither man spoke as they made their way through the
morning streets towards the Tower.
Simon kept up the pace Ethan set in spite of his limp
.
If it pained him the man didn’t let on. His scarred face betrayed no emotion at all.

The
st
r
eam of nobles and status-seekers shuffling their way towards
the Tower gate
was thick in spite of the early hour. Ethan and Simon pushed their
way to the front of the people and carriages. There was a buzz in the air that hadn’t been there for days.

“What’s going on?” Ethan asked one of the nobles he found himself shoulder to shoulder with.

“Word has gotten out that the king has an announcement. They say he received a pile of correspondence from France last night.”

Ethan frowned. “From France? Was it from Prince John?”

The noble shrugged. “Nobody knows. I was
awaken
ed
by my page before the sun after a rumor that King Richard is to hold
an audience
this morning reached our inn. I thought I would get a jump on things but-”

“So did half of the rest of the nobles in England,” Ethan finished his thought.

He nodded to the man, checked over his shoulder to be sure Simon was still following him, then pushed on to the gate. The guards were regulating the flow of traffic, asking for names, even turning away some of the less reputable in the crowd. When Ethan approached and nodded to the now familiar men they let him
in without question. He snuck a peek at Simon to see if the man would be impressed.
Simon’s
expression was blank.

The crowd of nobles fanned out on the other side of the gate as the passageway opened onto the wide yard. Most people continued on to the White Tower in a steady stream. Ethan motioned for Simon to skirt the side of the yard for several paces.

“The dungeon is in the White Tower,” he explained, “but
this is
also the king’s residence while he is in London.
Last I saw Jack he was in the dungeon.” He pointed out the tiny windows at the base of the White Tower walls. Simon nodded, crossing his arms, expressionless.

Ethan turned to the row of buildings behind them. “Aubrey is being held in a room in that building there.” He pointed out
her
window. “The walls aren’t stone, but make no mistake, she is well-guarded.”

“And Sir Crispin?” Simon asked.

Ethan scrubbed his hand over his hair, face pinched tight with uncertainty. Joanna had been beside herself wondering where his old enemy was. He didn’t think he could care a fig for Crispin, but her anxiety, Wulfric’s longing for his
father, had rubbed off on him.

“
He’s being held in a cell off the chapel on the first floor
,” he
finally answered with a sigh.

“
Can we reach him
?” The slight darkening of Simon’s tone was the only hint of emotion the man betrayed.

“I honestly don’t know.”

His chest tightened. He shifted from side to side, restless with the memory of Wulfric’s sad eyes pleading for his father. All the boy wanted to do was go home with his family. Ethan knew how he felt.

“Come on.” He cleared his throat. “If the king is really about to hold an audience we should find a place while we still can.”

He didn’t check to see if Simon had caught the flash of emotion he’d felt or if he followed him across the yard to the stairs leading up to the White Tower’s door. When they reached the top of the steps he paused and scanned the area for Joanna. If she was
at the Tower
she was busy elsewhere. He didn’t have time for more than a quick glance before the flow of the
crowd carried him and Simon into the building.

The atmosphere in the main hall was buzzing with expectation. As huge as London was, rumors spread fast. Lords and ladies, some looking as though they had dressed in a hurry that morning, chatted to each other in hushed expectation. It was too early for any sort of official business, but the crackle in the air was unmistakable. Something was about to happen.

“How do you reach the dungeons from here?” Simon asked, as stony as ever.

Ethan half turned to answer him, but a glimpse of Joanna’s soft blonde hair at the other side of the room distracted him. He heart grew lighter for a few beats before the full danger of the situation struck him. Without answering Simon he set out through the clusters of waiting nobles towards the
audience
room as she disappeared around the corner. Simon followed.

The
audience
room was already uncomfortable with the heat of so many bodies. Ethan edged his way along the wall, standing tall and looking for Joanna. She and
a
dark-haired
maid were at the front of the room, setting up a table with a tray carrying several goblets. He scooted closer to her, not once taking his eyes off of her.

Joanna wasn’t the only one near the raised throne. As she stepped away from the table Pennington leaned close and spoke to her. Bitter hatred
and tight fear
boiled up in Ethan. He
clenched
his fists before he could stop himself. Joanna nodded as Pennington stood straight again, a benign smile on his face. Joanna slowly glanced up and met his eyes across the room. She was warning him about something.

“What is Matlock doing here?” The low growl that came from Simon was so close to emotion that Ethan twisted to face him. He followed Simon’s stare to the side of the room where Matlock stood glaring back at
the steward
.
“Is he a confidante of the king?”

Ethan didn’t have time to
answer or to
weigh the consequences of being seen with Simon. A trumpet fanfare sounded from the other room. With a rumble like thunder, the nobles sank to their knees. Ethan hesitated, glancing back to Pennington at the front of the room. His smile had vanished, replaced by a narrow-eyed frown as he glanced between Matlock and
Simon
.
There could be no doubt now in Matlock’s mind that Ethan was connected to Madeline.

Ethan didn’t
have time to worry about it
. He dropped to a low bow as King Richard and his retinue swept into the room. Unlike the other audiences of the past
few
week
s
, the king made no effort to parade before his subjects or seek their approval or adoration. He marched to the front of the room and sat, giving the nervous crowd a cursory glance at best.

“
We
have received word from France,” he said without preamble, confirming the rumor that Ethan had heard at the gate. “
King Philip has left his forces weakened in Normandy.”

A murmur sounded as the nobles whispered to each other. Slowly they began to rise, whispering to their neighbors and keeping their eyes on their king.

“What is he saying?” Simon stepped closer to Ethan.

Ethan glanced back over his shoulder at the man then forward to find Matlock glaring at them once more. “He says that he has received word from France, that King Philip has left Normandy vulnerable.”

Before Ethan could fully translate, the king was speaking again. “We must take advantage of this golden opportunity. Normandy must be retaken at once. I will be leaving to raise an army that will attack as soon as possible.”

In the rumble of excitement that followed, Ethan translated the king’s words for Simon. Pennington had edged his way off the king’s platform and was pushing towards Matlock. Ethan’s glance flew back to Joanna. She was trapped in the corner behind the king, her eyes round and anxious.

“Therefore,” the king continued, “all royal business will be resolved as quickly as possible.” The buzz in the room grew louder. “This includes any and all investigations into possibly treasonous acts that were undertaken in our absence.”

More than one set of worried eyes looked for answers from their fellows. Crispin and Jack were not the only ones under suspicion. Ethan rubbed a hand across his stubbly chin. At least half of the nobles there must have known someone who was in danger of losing
his
head.

“We will begin hearing cases this afternoon,” the king went on. The roar of whispers rose to a fevered pitch. “My justicar will post a
schedule
so that witnesses may prepare
their
testimony
and stand before the court at their given time.”

“What is he saying?” Simon demanded.

Ethan took in a breath, jaw slack, heart and mind racing with the implications. “He says that the trials will all take place as soon as possible. His justicar will be posting a list so that witnesses will know when to be here
with their
testimony
.”

“
Testimony
? What
testimony
?”

Before Ethan could answer Simon or the guilt of what he had planned to say against his old rivals, the king went on.

“We will see to it that England is cleared of those who would be disloyal to us
.
If the winds favor us, we will leave for France after mass on Sunday.”

“That’s only four days away.” Ethan breathed out in dismay. He glanced to the corner where Joanna still stood. Her back was straight and the worry on her face had been replaced by steely determination. A
lady’s maid
standing near her was speaking close to her ear. At least she knew what they were all up against.

Ethan scanned the agitated nobles. Pennington had reached Matlock. The tw
o had
their heads together but it was clear they were at odds with
one
other
. Ethan frowned. He’d expected them to be overjoyed by the news.

The king had continued speaking, but Ethan had lost the train of his words. When Richard stood
,
the assembly of nobles dropped to bows and curtsies once more. “We trust that this business will be finished in an orderly manner.”

He
ended
his speech and stepped away from the throne. After only two steps he
paused
, noticing Ethan.

“Ethan of Windale.” A hint of humor curled his lips.

“Yes,
my liege
,” Ethan replied, his stomach sinking to his toes.
If Richard was still suspicious he could very well find himself on trial.
He dared to look up from his bow.

King Richard approached him. “
How are you feeling today?
”

“
Much better, my liege
,” he
answered, head lowered
.

“
You were trying to tell us something yesterday, give us some information
.”

Prickles broke out along Ethan’s skin. He could feel Simon’s stare, feel Joanna’s anxious disappointment from across the room. He could feel Toby standing by his side, telling him what to do.

“It … it’s not important at this time, my liege.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he spoke, head still bowed, Windale slipping out of his reach.

King Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Perhaps later then,” he said. “
You’re coming to the trial of your countrymen, aren’t you? We hear it’s set for tomorrow afternoon.”

Ethan swallowed, panic rising. “Yes, my liege.”

“Good man.” Richard smiled. “
You should join us in France. We could use your skill and determination.”

“Yes,
my liege
.” Ethan bowed as low as he could without prostrating himself.

King Richard nodded then moved on. “Ah, Sir Gerald, I hear your brother is in a spot of trouble,” he spoke to the next noble.

Ethan let out a shaking breath, lowering his head to
the fist that sat on his knee. Far from feeling as though his troubles were over, he had the sinking sense that they had just begun.