The rest of the attendees were left to stand to either side of the hall, and as the guards’ tromping footfalls rang out, those seated rose. Tavish was marched before the king, and then the soldiers fell away to flank the sides of the room.
Tavish dropped briefly to one knee. “My liege.”
The crier behind the king stepped forward and held a parchment before him. “Hear ye, all present. Our sovereign laird James, Majesty of the realm of all Scotland and her holdings, does so order and commence his court to hear the challenges both for and again’ Tavish Cameron, merchant of Edinburgh, and Iain Douglas of Tower Roscraig and his daughter; as well as the grievance of Master Niall Keane. All without claim shall hold their peace until such time as their testimony is requested.” The crier retreated behind the king, his hands behind his back.
James leaned forward, one forearm braced against the table, his other hand gripping the arm of his chair. “Master Cameron, I initially made this journey to judge the veracity of your claim upon Tower Roscraig against that held for the past thirty years by Iain Douglas. To be precise, a claim of inheritance, word of which was delivered to you—so you assert—in Edinburgh by one Sir Lucan Montague, knight of the English crown.”
Tavish nodded. “Aye, my liege.”
“While I was prepared to see evidence of your claim, recent events have reordered the purpose of this court. A charge has been brought against you that, if should be found true, would render your claim on Roscraig moot. And so I shall hear testimony to that allegation at the first.” James turned the ruddy side of his face away from Tavish’s view to look at Niall Keane. “Master Keane, say your peace.”
The rotund merchant rose, his hands visibly shaking, his normally florid face gray and paunchy. His eyes were swollen and red, his lips devoid of color. Tavish’s heart pained for the man.
“My liege,” Niall Keane began. “I have done business alongside Master Cameron since the death of his—well, what he would have all believe now was his stepfather. He and my…my beautiful daughter, Audrey, were childhood companions. When he received word of his inheritance, a betrothal between them was discussed, and I sent—” He broke off for a moment, appeared to struggle with the words. “I sent my beloved only child to be in his care at Roscraig until the arrangement was settled.
“But he never honored it,” Niall rasped, glaring venom at Tavish. “Instead he took a lover to sate his wicked appetites right under Audrey’s very nose—that woman there,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Glenna. “And when my daughter demanded he hold to his word, hemurdered her!”
The crowd gasped, and low chatter broke out in the echoing hall.
“Silence,” the crier demanded.
“Where is she, you bastard?” Niall Keane shouted through the commotion.
“Silence!” the crier barked.
As the noise dwindled, James looked to Tavish. “Do you take exception to this charge, Master Cameron?”
“Indeed, I do, my liege,” Tavish said. “The first of what Master Keane has spoken is true: Miss Keane and I have long been friends, and the idea of a betrothal was alluded to. But she arrived at Roscraig without my summons, and although I was without formal obligation to her, it was assumed that we would announce our agreement upon your arrival.”
“You changed your mind, did you?” the king asked bluntly.
“Miss Keane and I both became less enthused at the prospect of a union between us,” Tavish admitted. “Audrey does not care for the Tower’s remoteness. She misses the city, and her father.” Tavish looked at the merchant with all the sympathy and sorrow he felt. “She doesn’t love me, Niall—not as a woman loves a husband. But she wanted to make you happy.”
Master Keane’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Wasn’t it enough that you humiliated her with that…that guttersnipe imposter?”
The crowd gasped, prompting the crier to call for order once again.
“That’s right,” Niall Keane declared. “Thatladywas born of servants. Her father is no better than a squatter at Roscraig, who was run out of his own clan.”
“Guard your tongue against such slander, Master Keane,” the king warned in a low voice. “Lest you have your own charges brought against you.”
“What do I care for that now?” Niall demanded, turning fully to the king. “What do I care for anything now if my beloved Audrey is gone? Everything I’ve ever done…” His words deteriorated into sobs, and he collapsed on his chair.
The king looked to his sergeant at arms. “What of the search last night?” he said. Tavish knew the king had already been appraised, but the facts must be presented before all parties.
“Nothing out of the ordinary was discovered, my liege,” the man said, as he stepped forward and placed on the king’s table a torn, dingy square of cloth that had at one time perhaps been white. “Only this kerchief, caught on a branch. By the looks of it, it is quite old and has been out of doors for some time.”
“It’s mine.” Glenna’s shaking voice rang out in the hall. “The veil, it’s…I lost it several weeks ago.”
The king looked to Master Keane. “Do you recognize the thing as belonging to your daughter?”
Niall’s glance at the kerchief was full of disdain. “Audrey would never wear such a rag.”
The sergeant at arms finished his testimony. “There was no other evidence found that Master Cameron had taken Miss Keane somewhere on the grounds, my liege.”
Tavish spoke. “There was no evidence of it because I didn’t take Audrey anywhere. I was in the east tower all the night.”
Niall Keane took a ragged breath and stood once more. “There was no evidence of you taking her because you killed her and then had your servant dispose of her!” He looked to the king. “Frang Roy, a farmer of Roscraig, was found hanging dead near the cliff, my liege; blood on the path leading to him. Cameron had him buried and never told you. He drove the poor man to suicide for what he’d taken part in!”
