B00CGOH3US EBOK Page 12

  Jill's tension began to ease. So far, nothing seemed to be too harsh. Most of the people found guilty of their ridiculously silly crimes received what amounted to a slap on the wrist and had to pay a fine of six pence.

  Of course, she didn't know how much six pence was. If the jury demanded a fine from her, she wasn't sure where she would get the money. She hadn't found any to take with her when she'd made her pre-dawn escape from Baelin.

  "Father Gerald and my lady Donahue, please step forward," the clerk announced.

  Jill's pulsed quickened and she took several deep, slow breaths. Show time.

  She attempted to tame her wild hair as she approached the steward's table, knowing she probably looked like she'd been hit by a bus. Considering her bed had been a pile of moldy straw last night, she wasn't surprised to find several stray stalks tangled in the back. She did the best she could and stood before her judge and jury with as much dignity as she could muster.

  The clerk stood and addressed the steward.

  "Master William, Father Gerald of Crosthwaite, who is here," he pointed to the priest, "complains of my lady Donahue…" The clerk paused while he glanced at the parchment in his hands. "…of Richmond, who is here," he pointed to her, "that yester eve he came upon her in the parish church trying to steal the sacred statue of Saint Kentigern."

  The young clerk sat and then the steward turned his attention to Father Gerald. "Is this true, Father?"

  "Aye, my lord. I found this woman concealing herself in the shadows of the chancel with the statue of our patron saint all but hidden within her cloak. If I had not happened upon her at that very moment, she would have surely made off with one of the church's greatest treasures."

  "I see." The steward looked at Jill. "My lady, what have you to say in your defense?"

  "Umm, not guilty?" She hoped that was the correct response.

  The steward and clerk exchanged perplexed glances.

  "Have you nothing more to say?" Master William asked.

  So, this was her opportunity to tell her version of what happened. She prayed she didn't screw it up.

  "Like I tried to explain to the good Father here, it was all an accident. I'd been walking for a very long time and stopped to rest in the church. I was saying my prayers…" She threw that tidbit in for good measure, but didn't elaborate that the prayers involved a certain fire-breathing human lizard not finding her. "…when a sound startled me and I accidentally bumped into the statue, causing it to wobble and fall. I caught it just before it hit the ground and that was when the priest found me."

  Master William nodded. "I see. What have you to say to that, Father Gerald?"

  "As all present can attest, the statue is kept in the back of the chancel. One would have to leap like the hart over the altar to bump into it. For a woman to enter the chancel room is transgression enough, but to touch the statue with her sinner's hands is pure desecration. Even worse, she was trying to sneak out of the church with the statue hidden beneath her cloak, clearly breaking the Lord's commandment, thou shalt not steal."

  Jill gasped at the priest's twisting of the circumstances.

  "Is this true, my lady Donahue?" Master William asked.

  "Of course not! I was not hiding it and I most certainly was not trying to steal it. If anything, you should be thankful I have quick reflexes or that precious statue of yours would be in a million pieces right now."

  The clerk and the steward sat behind their table, their jaws slack at her outburst. The men in the jury shook their heads and mumbled to themselves. Jill mentally kicked herself. Her habit of speaking first, thinking second, was definitely not helping her case right now.

  The steward straightened in his seat and turned to the priest. "Do you have the statue in your possession now?"

  "Aye, my lord." Father Gerald retrieved the statue from a boy standing nearby. "But 'tis ruined, fouled beyond redemption by her sinner's hands."

  Fouled? Jill thought. I'll bet my hands are the cleanest ones in this whole damn village.

  "Look here," the priest pointed to a spot on the statue's arm. "There is now a crack where none had been before." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "This evil woman has committed a grave sin within the sacred House of God. Surely 'tis a sign of His displeasure."

  "Now wait a minute," she interrupted, determined to stand up for herself. "There's no proof I cracked the statue when I caught it. How do we know it hasn't been that way for years? In fact, how do we know you didn't do it yourself and are trying to blame me for it now?"

  "Lies! All lies!" The priest's face grew mottled and spittle formed in the corner of his lips. "Look at her. This wanton woman comes before the court in brazen disrespect with no veil covering her head, just as I found her in the church yester eve. Having defiled God's House with her actions, the harlot now stands here before you all, spewing forth untruths in an attempt to cast dispersions upon the Lord's servant with her devil's tongue."

  Tumult erupted around her, men waving angry fists and women trying to shield their children as if she'd suddenly sprouted horns and a tail. This did not look good. If the priest continued getting them riled up like this, they'd string her up for certain.

  "I am not a bad person!" she shouted over the uproar. "I made a mistake. An innocent mistake." She focused her plea toward the steward. "Please, you have to believe me."

  Master William raised his hands, attempting to gain control over the proceedings. When the crowd quieted, he turned to Jill. "Have you any oath helpers to attain to your innocence?"

  "Oath what?"

  "Oath helpers. Those who can speak for your character."

  Jill glanced around, her hopes plummeting. There would be no friendly face in the crowd to come to her defense. "I'm not from here. I don't know anyone in this village."

  "She knows me," a deep voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd.

  The people parted behind her and Baelin's tall form stepped forward to stand before the steward's table. Jill's legs trembled at the sight of him. In relief or fear, she wasn't sure which.

  "And who might you be, sir?" the clerk asked.

  "Sir Baelin of Gosforth."

  She watched as the clerk scribbled his name on the parchment, the feather quill waving back and forth under his pointy nose.

  The steward straightened, his brow creased in confusion. "Gosforth? Why, there has not been anyone of rank from there in…"

  "Nearly two hundred years," Baelin finished for him.

  Master William glanced at his young clerk, who did little more than shrug. The steward turned back to Baelin. "Gosforth? Truly?"

  Baelin straightened, stretching out all of his six foot two height. "While 'tis true I have not been in residence for too many years to count, Gosforth is my ancestral home and I bear the family crest to prove it."

  "And how is it you know this woman?"

  For the first time, Baelin turned to look at her. She cringed at the anger in his eyes. What would he say? Was he going to defend her or toss her to the wolves?

  He turned back to address the steward. "She is my ward. I was escorting her to her home when we were…separated."

  "Your ward?" Master William spoke the word as if he believed she was something entirely different to Baelin. The crowd snickered, indicated many of them thought so, too. "I see. And are you aware of the charges against her?"

  "I am, and I stand before you to swear to her innocence. As you can tell by her speech and manner, she was raised…abroad and is unaccustomed to many of our ways. Though her actions were wrong, her motives were innocent. This I swear before God and on my honor as a knight."

  Jill couldn't tear her gaze away from him. She knew his sense of honor did not allow him to lie easily. The truth, as he was forced to stretch it for her sake, would be another strike against her. He appeared in complete control now, but heaven help her when he got her alone.

  "With the court's blessing, I offer to pay for a new statue of Saint Kentigern, plus I will add threefold to
its coffers, in recompense for any damage done to the good Father's name."

  Master William hesitated, the mention of money producing dollar signs in his eyes. Jill thought he was about to accept Baelin's offer when the priest butted in.

  "Think you your earthly coin will appease God? Nay, a crime against our Lord has been committed within the Holy Church. Tainted gold earned by the blood of a sword cannot buy away this woman's sin."

  The steward acknowledged Father Gerald with a nod of his head, and then turned his attention back to Baelin.

  "Your argument is strong, and as a knight of the realm, your oath has great weight. However you are but one and not known to this court. As to my lady Donahue's actions, we are all in agreement, even unto the lady herself, that she did enter the church and remove the statue from its rightful place. However, as to her ignorance of the consequences of the act, I do not believe there is enough proof." Father Gerald opened his mouth to speak but the steward held up his hand, effectively putting an end to any further religious tirades from the man. "Therefore, I leave the question of the lady's intent to the jury to decide."

  As the men of the jury argued amongst themselves, Jill felt every eye in the village on her. The one person who did not look at her was Baelin. He had not glanced her way but for that one, glaring moment. Instead, he stared at some point beyond the steward's table, his profile hard, his jaw tense.

  Finally, one of the men spoke. "The jury is torn, my lord. If what Sir Baelin says is true, then my lady Donahue is innocent by fault of her weak woman's mind."

  Jill opened her mouth to protest but a quick, almost indecipherable slashing motion of Baelin's hand stopped her. She snapped her mouth shut. Better to save the argument on women's intelligence for another day. Or another century, for that matter.

  "We are in accord," the man continued, "that since her crime is against God and took place within the Holy Church, her innocence must be also decided by God."

  A hush fell over the crowd. What did that mean? Jill looked to Baelin. The stiffening of his body did not bode well.

  The steward turned to Father Gerald. "What method of proof does the Church require?"

  "The rod," the priest replied, smirking triumphant in his small victory while the villagers cheered in agreement.

  "Very well," Master William sighed. "Following three days of due prayer and fasting, my lady Donahue shall be brought forth to the parish church and submit herself to a trial by iron."

  Baelin stepped forward as he reached for his sword.

  Jill's heart leaped into her throat. Dear God, was it so bad he would kill to get her out of this mess? She moved in front of him, barring his way, and covered his hand with hers, forcing the sword to stay safely tucked in the scabbard.

  "No, Baelin!" She kept her voice low so only he could hear her. "I can't let you hurt anyone because of me. Whatever this trial by iron is, I'll do it."

  He glanced from their joined hands on his sword hilt to her face.

  "Lady Jill, you do not comprehend what it is you will be required to do."

  He brushed her hand away and sidestepped her to face the steward.

  "I beg the indulgence of the hallmote. Since the lady is my ward, I ask that I be allowed to stand in her stead for the ordeal."

  Gasps erupted from the crowd. What was Baelin doing? Was he offering to take her place for the trial? Could he do that? More to the point, why would he, after what she'd done to him? Every time Baelin looked at her, she saw the fresh wound of her betrayal in his eyes. And yet here he was, willing to take a punishment meant for her.

  Well, she couldn't let him do it. She's the one who got herself into this mess, she'd be to one to face the consequences. A trial by iron. How hard could that be? She probably had to iron the entire village's laundry for a week.

  She moved around him and put herself between his big intimidating body and the table. Much more of this little dance of theirs and they'd soon be sitting in the steward's lap.

  "I won't let him take my place." She lifted her head in determination. "I am innocent and I will be the one to prove it."

  Baelin hissed behind her. "Lady Jill, you know not what you do."

  "Oh, yes I do," she said without turning to face him. "You're doing that chivalry thing again and I won't let you. This is my fault and I'm going to fix it."

  Baelin made to speak again but Master William stopped him. "Enough. Three days hence, Lady Donahue will herself prove her guilt or innocence."

  Jill turned to face Baelin, knowing he would be angry but hoping, for some odd reason, that he might also be a little proud of her, too.

  He stared at her, a kaleidoscope of emotions crossing his face—anger, concern, betrayal, possession, and something akin to fear. For her?

  "You have no idea what you have done in refusing my protection."

  "Oh, I've seen the lengths you're willing to go to to protect me. I won't let one of these innocent people get hurt because of me."

  He closed his eyes. "My lady, 'tis you who will be the one who is harmed."

  "Oh, it can't be any worse than what I've already been through."

  His eyes flew open and the resigned despair she read in them chilled her.

  "That is where you are wrong, my lady. You have not yet begun to see what horrors one person can do to another."

  CHAPTER 12

  "I'm going to have to do what?"

  "Hold a metal rod fired in hot coals for nine paces. 'Tis what a trial by iron is."

  "But that's barbaric!" Jill gasped, her mind reeling at the thought.

  "'Tis to prove whether or not you are innocent of the crime."

  "How does burning my hands with a red hot poker prove anything?"

  She stared at Baelin through the lone, barred window. Or rather at his feet, since he stood outside and she was once again imprisoned below ground in the dank cellar the villagers used for a jail cell.

  "'Tis in the healing your guilt or innocence is proven. If your hands do not fester after three days, you shall be judged innocent. If the wounds do not heal…"

  She glanced around at the filthy room. Rotting straw covered the damp dirt floor, while something rustled in the shadows of one corner—probably a huge, flea-ridden rat waiting to gnaw on her ankles. She turned back to the window to find Baelin kneeling by it, his face framed in the narrow opening.

  "How can a burn not get infected in a place like this? It's a case of gangrene just waiting to happen."

  "You will be proven innocent. You must be." His clipped words revealed the anger he still harbored against her for leaving him. But his fury seemed to have cooled a degree or two, giving way to concern for her, which relieved and frightened her at the same time.

  "But what if I'm not? We both know I'm innocent, but what if the burns get infected anyway?"

  "Then they will hang you."

  "Oh, God." The image of the dead man outside the village flashed before her eyes. Only now, her own body swung slowly in the breeze as crows pecked at her lifeless corpse. She took in deep gulps of air to prevent herself from vomiting.

  "Fear not, my lady. Should the ordeal go poorly for you and your guilt comes to pass, I shall not let that happen."

  Shock and disbelief gave way to fear of the atrocity to come. "My guilt won't come to pass because I probably won't make it that far. Baelin, I don't handle pain well. I nearly passed out when I had my ears pierced. How am supposed to get through something like this?"

  "'Tis a circumstance you brought upon yourself. For every wrong committed, there is always a consequence to pay."

  Jill heard the censure in his voice. He wasn't just talking about trespassing in the church or taking the statue. He was talking about the tapestry, too. A long, strained silence hung between them, any trust that had once been there stretched tight on a thread close to breaking.

  "Baelin?"

  "Aye, my lady?"

  "I'm sorry. I was wrong to run away with the tapestry. But after what happened to the men in t
he forest, I freaked. I was scared. But I'm really, really sorry. Even though the tapestry may be my ticket out of here, it was yours and I had no right to take it."

  His face softened a fraction and he nodded. "Do not fret, my lady. 'Tis already forgiven. Think on it no more."

  Then another horrifying thought struck her. "The tapestry! It was in my satchel. They took everything from me when they arrested me."

  "Fear not. Since I claimed you as my ward, they entrusted me with your belongings. 'Tis safely in my possession once again."

  "That's good. At least that's one problem solved."

  Baelin handed her a length of cloth through the bars. "Take this."

  "What's this for?"

  "'Tis a veil. The trial requires you to fast for three days. During that time, you will spend your waking hours in prayer to prepare your soul for the ordeal to come. You must wear a covering on your head whenever you enter the church."

  "Right. That was another strike against me today." Jill crushed the delicate material in her hands, panic making her pulse race. "Please, Baelin, can't you do anything? I don't think I can go through with this."

  "I offered to stand in your place, but you refused."

  In an instant, the tension between them returned. He may have forgiven her, but bruised pride hardened his voice. She'd insulted him more than she realized by throwing his chivalry back in his face in front of the entire village.

  "That was before I knew their idea of a trial was for me to walk around with a red hot poker in my hands!" Jill dropped the veil, wrapped her hands around the bars, and pulled. "Isn't there anything you can do? Can't you rip these bars off the window?"

  "Nay, I have not the dragon's strength as a man. I am no match for iron and stone."

  She glanced behind her to the bolted door. "What about the door? It's made of wood. Can't you hock up a fireball and burn it down?"

  "And what of the guard who stands on the other side? Would you have me set him aflame to free you?"

  "Of course not!" She paused and stared off into nothingness, various possibilities of escape churning in her head. "What about when they come to take me to the church? Couldn't you do something then? Create a distraction? Come charging in on a white stallion? Swoop down and grab me and we both fly away off into the sunset?"