Page 103 of The Knight's Pledge
The intendant looked to Thomas. “Have you any last words?”
Thomas nodded. “My life has been worth it, if only for those people come to see me off today,” he said, then pressed his lips together tightly as he met the gaze of each person seated before the gallows ending with Tavish. “Tell yer mamI do love her.”
Then Thomas turned to address the king’s box. “Your Grace, I swear by God Almighty, whom I do hope to be seeing shortly, that I’ve never taken a life in all my years and during all my troubles.” He paused. “My only regret is that I didna know enough to have killed Vaughan Hargrave and his wretched wife withme own hands.”
The crowd gasped at the proclamation, but Thomas only turned back to look one final time at his children. “God bless you.” He gave a teary wink and then raised his eyes over the crowd, as if to the horizon, or perhaps to heaven.
The hangman stepped forward with the cloth between his hands, and slipped the hood over Thomas Annesley’s head.
Lucan heard a muffled sob—he thought it might have been Finley, but it could have very well come fromhis own mouth.
Somewhere behind the gallows, a drum rattled as the hangman moved to the lever that would drop the platform away beneath Thomas Annesley’s feet.
Lucan watched Thomas’s shoulders rise and fall deeply—his last full breath.
No. No. He couldn’t allow it. Even if it meant his own death—he couldn’t think of a future without Effie, any matter.
Lucan gained his feet in a rush and opened his mouth.
“Stop!” The faint scream was little louder than the breeze over the drum trill, but it called again, only slightly louder. “Stop, I say!Stop!”
The hangman froze in place; the intendant turned a quarter of the way ‘round to face the king’s box. The crowd murmured, many turning to look backward toward where the shouts—and now hoof beats—challenged the drumming. Lucan, too, turned.
“Stop at once!” It was a woman’s voice, and she came careening across the yard, her mount swerving through the crowd, the hood of her silk cape thrown back against her shoulders as she galloped toward the king’s box, and her auburn hair—Lucan knew it was graying at the temples—streamedout behind her.
Margaret Stanhope.
The guards before the king’s box raised their arms and stepped before the sovereign and the drumbeats rattled into silence as Lady Margaret reined in her dancing mount. She turned around to look over her shoulder toward the bench and her eyes found Lucan, still standing asif in a dream.
“Lady Margaret,” Henry said, his admonishing tone unable to hide his surprise. “What is the meaning of this? It is cruel to prolong this family’s torture.”
“She’s here, Your Grace.” Margaret gasped and then gave a bow from the saddle. She spread her arm long, indicating the yard and gate behind her, just as a brace of trumpets filled the air with their melodious shouts.
Pennants appeared over the crowd—red and gold and white—snapping in the breeze from the tops of their impossibly tall poles. The crowd’smurmuring grew.
“Lucan,” Effie said, drawing his attention as she grabbed his arm. “Whatis she doing?”
“I’ve no idea,” he said to her. He stepped onto the bench for a better view and held his hand out to Effie,who joined him.
“Your Grace,” Lady Margaret said again as the pennant-bearers penetrated the fringe of the crowd and revealed a golden litter being carried by eight men. “Allow me to present Countess Elpis of Mystras.”
* * * *
Effie didn’t know what was happening, beyond that the hangman had just removed the hood covering her father’s head as everyone on the green looked to the sparkling, glittering, curtained litter. When the mounted woman made her proclamation, Effie saw Caris Hargrave slowly stand from her seat behind the king.
The litter was placed on the ground and two guards stepped to the fore to open a half door and pull back the curtain. A moment later, a slender form, in layers of flowing black lace from head to foot, moved forward, one hand bracing heavily ona golden cane.
“King Henry,” the woman said in a crisp accented voice, inclining her head. “I do hope you will forgive my interruption. Any messenger I sent would have arrived with me, as my ship only came up the river in this very hour.”
“What is the meaning of this, Countess?” Henry demanded. “Mystras’s ambassadors are not scheduled to be my guests foranother year.”
“This is true,” the countess allowed, “but when I heard from Lady Margaret about the scandalous trial that has captured the tongues of every noble far and wide—when I heard the names of those involved—I knew I must come myself, and at once.” She glanced back over her shoulder through her veil toward the gallows. “As it is, I see that I was almost too late.”
Effie saw Caris Hargrave scramble for the box door.
“I have come to deliver a writ of arrest for Vaughn Hargrave and his whore, known to us on Mystrasonly as Caris.”
A guard halted Caris Hargrave’s escape, and she reluctantly turned around to face the lace-clad woman.
