Sickened by their grotesque fervor, she looked past the throng filling the bailey to where an elevated wooden platform stood. A large hooded man with an axe waited near the center. She searched the crowd for a man being led through by her father’s guards.
Why did thoughts of her abductor cause her such concern?
Her maid touched her forearm. “You are trembling. You must return to your bed.”
“A moment more.”
“Not a whisper longer, my lady.”
Marie’s pulse raced as she scanned the path to the dungeon.
The throng jostled and then shifted back.
Her father’s guards moved forward, others in their wake. Between them, a man stumbled into view.
The prisoner.
Jeers rose from the crowd as he was led past.
At the high-pitched scream for the Scot’s death, Marie leaned out the window in hopes of seeing him better. She still couldn’t make out his face.
Frustrated, she withdrew, halted. Angled on a ledge near the hearth sat the volume of tales of King Arthur her father had gifted her with on her eighth birthday. A book rich with tales of Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.
Like floodwaters as they rushed to engulf all within its path, memories flooded her mind. Her journey across Scotland with Colyne. Their ensuing voyage to France. How they’d made love. And how much she loved him. Tears blurred her eyes.
Mon Dieu, how could she have forgotten him?
She started to shake.
Felyse caught her by the shoulders. “I should not have condoned your getting up. You need to rest, not worry about a man who is better off dead.”
The writ! She was mistaken. The man below couldn’t be Colyne. Once he’d shown the guards the document from Robert Bruce, they would have immediately escorted him to her father, who would have read the Guardian of Scotland’s warning of the English Duke of Renard’s treachery.
Except her father had not mentioned the writ. And his referencesto the Scot had been filled with disgust. “On with you now. ’Tis rest you need, not staying up and tiring yourself further.”
Foreboding filled Marie. “Tell me the man’s name!”
The older woman scowled. “ ’Tis the Earl of Strathcliff.”
It couldn’t be! “What about the writ?” At her maid’s blank stare, she understood. Her father hadn’t seen it. Had Colyne lost it when he’d swum with her to shore? “There has been a mistake. The Earl of Strathcliff did not abduct me; he saved my life.”
Her maid cast a frantic glance toward the window.
Mon Dieu!On shaky limbs, Marie pulled free and ran to the door. At the entry, she caught a guard’s shoulder. “Find the king. He must stop the execution.”
“Oui, my lady.” Steps echoed as the guard rushed to do her bidding.
A cheer echoed from below. Then a chant for death rose from the crowd.
Panic swept her. Colyne must be nearing the platform. If she waited for her father’s intervention, it might be too late!
Ignoring her body’s protests, Marie bolted down the corridor. And prayed she wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter 19
The guard shoved Colyne. “Move along.”
Weakened from days of torture, Colyne stumbled. He righted himself. Barely.
