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Burnell said, “I have known your father for many years, Jason. He was always a hard man, even when we were young, but he was also a man of great bravery and principles, a man who has always supported the king. As you know, your father traveled with the king to the Holy Land. He never left the king’s side. The king trusts him.
“I knew there was strife between you and your father, but not the cause for it. You must have shamed him greatly, even as you shamed yourself.
“Speak the truth now, Jason, or I will return you to London and turn you over to the king’s men. You would not do well under their tender mercies.”
“I was but trying to make amends.”
“Amends to whom?” Burnell asked him. “Stand up, you pathetic scoundrel!”
Jason tried to rise. Garron said nothing, remained expressionless, when Merry moved quickly to help him. Once upright, Merry stepped away from him. He squared his shoulders, but his voice was only a whisper when he began to speak, liquid with misery and tears, “I am guilty of naught save trying to find my father’s silver coins so that I may return them to him. The silver is not yours, Garron of Kersey, nor was it your damned brother’s, who stole it!”
Garron sat forward in his chair, his hands fists on his knees. His knife was back in its sheath at his belt. “You claimed Arthur stole the coins from you. But now you are claiming the hundreds of silver coins do not belong to you, but to your father? And you were trying to steal them back for him?”
“It is the truth. I have no reason to lie, not now.”
Burnell said, “How could Arthur possibly have stolen such a vast number of silver coins from your father? How did Arthur even know of the silver?”
“I don’t know how he managed it, but he did. He struck my father down in his solar, where he’d hidden the silver. My poor father never even knew who had done it. Ah, but I knew, I knew, for there could be no other.”
Garron grabbed Jason by the neck and shook him like a rat. Jason of Brennan struggled, but every shake made the pain of his lost ear send agony through his head. He tried to kick out, but Garron’s rage was powerful. “I suppose you believe you can say anything about my brother since he is dead?” He drew his knife. “I think you’ll lose your other ear now, you lying whoreson.”
“No!”
Garron froze. It was Merry’s voice.
He looked over Jason’s head at her white face. Sunlight was pouring through the open doors into the great hall, turning her hair to fire. Slowly, he nodded to her to speak.
“My lord, there is no reason to mutilate him further. He will tell you what you wish to know.”
Garron said, “You will be silent now, Merry, this has naught to do with you. You, Jason of Brennan, you will speak now or I will slice off your other ear.”
He watched her shoot a look at Jason, then she slowly lowered her head.
Jason was holding his palm against his bandaged head, blood seeping out between his fingers. He shouted, “Your damned brother is not dead! How do you think I knew where to look for the silver? Arthur finally told me where he’d hidden it. You’re not an earl, you puffed-up bladder, you’re nothing at all!”
Garron roared out of his chair, grabbed Jason around his throat, and lifted him off the stone floor. He stared at Jason’s face, white as death, the red blood snaking from beneath the white bandage, turning black against his neck. “You are saying my brother is alive?”
“Aye, he’s alive.”
Miggins screeched, “Thass a lie! Ye filthy mongrel, I saw Lord Arthur’s face fall in his trencher! He was as dead as all the poor souls ye butchered when ye came as the Black Demon to Wareham! Ye poisoned him! We buried him! Ye hear me? We buried Lord Arthur!”
“Nay,” Sir
Halric said, “Jason does not lie. Lord Arthur was not dead. One of his men in my pay fed him a draught that gave him the look of death. We stole him out of Wareham, and another was wrapped and buried in his place. We took him away so we could question him.”
“And just where,” Garron asked quietly, “did you obtain this draught that gave my brother the look of death?”
Sir Halric said, “This mangy little liar claimed the credit, but that is absurd. It was all the witch’s plan.”
Jason yelled, “Aye, it was all from the witch.”
“Was it also the witch’s idea to plant a traitor in Wareham to open the postern gate so you and your men could enter?”
“Aye.”
“But why did you kill everyone? Why did you destroy my home?”
“It wasn’t my fault that I had to kill so many. No one would tell me the truth!”
