Knight Errant (23 page)

“And on the charge of lying?” questioned another of the bishops.

“I have never lied to any priest, your worship.”

“What of your refusal to confess your sins as the church dictates?” This from the last of the bishops to speak.

“God knows my heart and soul better than any man, thus I feel no need to confess my sins to men, be they priests or no. But if ’twill ease your mind, I will confess my transgressions here before this assembly.”

“Confession is meant to ease your soul, Lady Juliana, not mine.” The man smiled indulgently as if instructing a novitiate at catechism.

“Then what need to confess to anyone but God, Lord Bishop?”

“To assign appropriate penance so that atonement can be accomplished.” The bishop’s expression matched his now stern tone. “Few laymen and fewer women would choose wisely, if penance were left up to the one confessing.”

“I am as yet uncertain of your response to this third and most serious charge,” the second bishop said. “Lady Juliana, do you or do you not refuse to confess your sins?”

“I am always ready to confess my wrongs to God.”

“And to the priests of His daughter, the church?”

“I am uncertain of the need.”

“See you, Lords Bishop,” Basti interjected. “Even after receiving the benefit of your instruction, she refuses to bend to the will of the church. I would add the cardinal sin of pride to the charges and ask for your summary judgment.”

The bishops leaned together, conferring quietly.

Robert watched Juliana’s knuckles whiten. He prayed no one else noticed. Given the courage of her responses to the bishops, any show of fear or doubt would lead to certain condemnation.

The bishops separated, and the first of them spoke. “Lady Juliana Verault, you stand convicted of heresy by your own mouth. Do you recant your heresy and agree to serve three years’ penance under the guidance of Fra Basti?”

The crowd in the gallery murmured.

“I have done nothing against the word of God and hence have nothing to recant.”

A gasp went up from the crowd.

“So be it,” intoned the bishop. You are hereby condemned to ...”

“Wait!”

All heads turned in Robert’s direction.

“You!” Basti hissed. “You shared this woman’s room and bed at the Sign of the Pig. This is her lover,” he said to the bishops. “A man she led from the path of righteousness with her satanic attractions.”

“I am not her lover and never have been,” Robert announced.

“Silence!” the first bishop ordered. “State your name and explain the meaning of this interruption.”

“You cannot condemn this woman to burn. She is the cousin of Edward Plantagenet. Should she die at the hands of this court, England’s king might withdraw his support of certain papal projects. Our king still grieves the loss of his beloved wife, Queen Eleanor. I dread to think how the loss of another female relative would affect his mind.”

The bishops held a brief conversation. “Lady Juliana already stands convicted of heresy and refuses to recant. Her crime against the church is most vile and cannot go unpunished.”

“May I suggest, your worship, that Lady Juliana be bound in marriage to a man who vows to be responsible for her behavior and her religious instruction. ’Twould offer a chance to save her soul, rather than give it over to Hell.” Knee-buckling hollowness filled Robert. His heart could not break any more than it had already at the knowledge that another man would hold her and have the chance to bask in her love.

“She has been offered a chance to recant, and she refused,” Basti shouted. He extended his arm and pointed a condemning finger at Juliana. The signet ring shone like a fiery beacon. “Hell is where sinners such as she belong.”

The bishops conferred once more. Basti hurried to join them.

Her hands no longer clutched at each other but had dropped limp to her sides. Her smile had vanished, and her jaw slacked open in what Robert could only interpret as pained astonishment. He willed her to meet his gaze so she could see his silent plea for her understanding.

“Do you know of any man who would be willing to marry this woman?”

Robert snapped his head from Juliana’s injured gaze. “Edward Plantagenet has chosen a man to be Lady Juliana’s husband. That man stands ready to do all that a husband must for a wife. I was sent to escort Lady Juliana back to England for that wedding.”

“That is not good enough,” argued Basti. “What if she escapes during the journey?”

“I doubt escape will occur, Fra Basti,” said one of the prelates who glanced at her injured foot.

“What if the proposed bridegroom refuses to accept responsibility for this woman’s soul?” Basti sounded desperate.

“You have a point,” agreed another bishop. “Sir,” he addressed Robert, “Do you know this bridegroom? Will he accept the heavy task that marriage to Lady Verault brings?”

The lie tempted Robert, but he dared not. “In truth I do not know the man and cannot say what he would or would not accept.”

“Then I am very sorry but Lady Juliana must suffer the fate of the condemned heretic that she is.”

“What if I were willing to wed her?”

“Nay,” bellowed Juliana.

Her protest plunged dagger deep into Robert’s heart.

Basti smiled. “A physician must examine her first to verify her virginity, and the consummation must be witnessed to avoid any chance of annulment. In exchange for the church’s sacrifice, Sir Robert must make one of his own. He must vow not to kill in battle for a year and a day.”

“That is outrageous. ’Twould make lie of the vows I gave when I accepted knighthood.”

“Robert, do not. I will recant before I allow you to sacrifice yourself.” Juliana’s protest was ignored.

The crowd roared with confusion and angry mutters.

“Guards,” yelled the most senior of the bishops. “Clear the gallery. Sir, step forward. Bring the prisoner.” The last order went to Basti, whose defeated frown had transformed into a triumphant grin.

Followed by Fra Marco, Robert went to stand before the bishops. His heart thundered. He wiped sweaty palms against his breeches. He felt the same gut-churning nerves that he experienced before a battle. What had he done? Juliana would hate him, and of a certainty, Edward would kill him. As for the vow asked of him, ’twas the least of his worries. Indeed, to save Juliana’s life, what else could he do but agree to all the terms?

Juliana’s persistent kindness and generosity had given him his first real hope of redemption. Her determination and optimism had made him think that perhaps he might be a better man than he believed himself to be. If she hated him, ’twould be a small sacrifice to keep her goodness in a world that held far too much cruelty.

The presiding bishop addressed Robert. “The conditions Fra Basti suggests are reasonable precautions. Dispensations for your other vows can be granted for the year and day. The sacrifice asked of you marks a true demonstration of your dedication to the church and her teachings. Do you agree to the terms, Sir?”

Robert swallowed against the reluctance to hurt Juliana. His actions would take from her the freedom she held dear, but he had to save her life.

“I agree.”

• • •

“Do not do this,” Juliana pleaded. “We will both regret it.”

Another way to win the trial must be found. Robert must not sacrifice himself in marriage just so she could live.

But although she would willingly sacrifice herself to save him a single moment of suffering or hazard, who then would tell the world of the pope’s letters and the epistle of Saint Peter? Basti had destroyed those Juliana had carried, but Sister Anna still had copies, so others could be made and sent. Eventually the truth would triumph, but only if she lived to make different plans with Sister Anna. No, she could not afford to lose her life. Not until she knew those letters would be read far and wide.

“I have no choice, Juliana.” He faced the bishops. “Aye. I agree to the examination, to have witnesses present at the consummation, and not to take a life in battle for a year and a day.”

“And if I do not agree?” Juliana questioned the bishops, her arrogance matching their own.

“Your agreement is irrelevant, my child. ’Tis what is best for your immortal soul.”

“I thought women had no souls.” She made the comment though she supposed the bishops would insist on having it both ways.

“You are a rude and heedless woman to question this tribunal,” muttered one of the bishops.

“The existence of women’s souls is a matter of debate among canonical scholars, Lady Verault,” the youngest of the three continued. “This tribunal deems it wise to proceed cautiously in your case.”

In other words, Basti held too much power for them to take any action that might cast them into his prison. It did not matter. She had to trust Sister Anna’s instincts. Juliana’s mission now was to save Robert from making a serious mistake. “Nothing can make me say the vows.”

“The church will say them for you. Proxy marriages are sanctioned, and only a short time separates the ceremony from the consummation.”

“You see, my lady,” Basti gloated. “Your wishes on the matter are as naught. ’Tis a fitting end for a woman who sought to spread heresy and to bring Holy Mother Church to her knees.”

“You overestimate my potential influence.”

“Possibly, but this way you have no potential, except as God intended, to be the vessel for some man’s seed.”

She saw victory riding on his face and vowed to turn that victory to ash. Married or not, she would get the documents distributed and keep Robert safe.

“Come, let us adjourn to the chapel,” demanded the youngest of the bishops. “We have delayed enough in discussion. ’Tis time we saw this marriage sanctified. I will officiate. My brethren will conclude the last trial.”

“But...” Basti frowned.

“Come with us, Fra Basti. Your clerk can take your place in the trial. ’Twill be good training for him.”

Basti nodded, smiling.

Robert took Juliana’s hand in his. “Release her bonds. I will not wed a woman in chains.”

“You should not have done this,” she said while her chains were loosed.

“I could not allow you to martyr yourself.”

“’Twas not martyrdom; I sought but to protect you. Edward will have your head.”

“He will have my head anyway if I allow you to be burned at the stake. I acted as I thought best and must live with the consequences.”

“Is there nothing I can say to dissuade you?”

“Nothing.”

They turned in sorrowed silence to follow the bishop. Less than two steps down the path, Robert swept Juliana into his arms.

“I can walk.”

“Mayhap, but you will not walk until a physician tends your foot and pronounces you able.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Nay, Lady Juliana,” Basti said from behind. “’Tis justice that even before you are wed, you submit to the will of the man who is to hold authority over you for the rest of your life.”

Now, after a bath, she lay on a bare cot in the corner of a sparsely furnished state chamber, about to suffer a physician’s examination of her virginity and her foot. Naught but a thin screen separated her from the other occupants of the room.

“Relax, milady,” the man said as he raised her skirt. “This will be over quickly, but ’twould be best if you tried to sleep.”

Juliana pretended to comply. On the other side of the screen that guarded her modesty, Robert held a quiet conversation with Basti and the bishop. To distract herself from the doctor’s probing, she concentrated on trying to hear what they said.

“I insist,” Robert said.

“Any delay is unacceptable,” countered Basti.

“I ask only that I be allowed to take a healthy bride to my bed. Not one disfigured as she is now. What if she conceives? The child might be crippled. I do not want that for my heir.”

The doctor muttered to himself and lowered her skirt. Finished with his more intimate examination, he proceeded to inspect Juliana’s injured appendage.

“’Twould be just penance for her sins,” Basti pronounced.

“Penance that a child would have to bear, not her. That is hardly just.”

“The sins of the fathers,” quoted the priest.

“Do you now accuse me of heresy?”

“If . . .”

“Enough,” the bishop said. “If Lady Juliana’s foot can be healed, it shall be.”

“That may take months,” Robert protested. “I cannot wait that long to take Lady Juliana to England.”

“Yet you insist that she be healthy when you take her to your bed. Come now, baron, you cannot have it both ways,” Basti sneered.

“What Fra Basti says is true, nearly,” the physician said. He lowered Juliana’s foot to the bed and walked around the screen.

“What do you mean?”

“Explain yourself?”

“Do you say there is hope for her recovery?”

The men’s voices all sounded at once.
Quiet
, Juliana thought.
The physician cannot explain while you men badger him
.

She forced herself to be calm. But the possibility that her injury was not permanent made her heart race.

“I mean precisely that, baron. My examination of Lady Verault’s injury shows the muscles and tendons to be badly distorted. Some bones are greatly out of joint, but none are broken. With the aid of a crutch, she could walk today.”

“That is wonderful.”

“Hmpf.”

“Praise heaven.”

“The process to straighten the foot and restore the bones to their proper places is short but painful. It can be done today. I would not recommend that, however. The lady is weak, and the pain of the procedure would no doubt cause her to faint. Regardless of when I perform the procedure, once the ankle has been mended, she should not rest weight on the limb for at least two weeks.”

“Then you must mend the limb as soon as the marriage vows have been said,” Basti ordered.

“’Tis probably best to have the pain over with soonest,” Robert agreed.

His agreement with Basti even on this minor issue dismayed Juliana. Surely Robert must have his reasons. She would ask him, but now was not the time.

“How,” queried the bishop, “does this allow Baron Ravensmere to have a healthy bride and still depart for England quickly?”