Page 88 of Never Love a Lord
“Now, Julian,” Edward commanded, giving him a little push and then walking toward the short steps that led to the dais.
“Come on.” Someone pulled sharply on his elbow, and Julian turned to see that it was Erik. “Don’t be any more of a fool than you have been, Julian. It’s almost over.”
Julian walked backward a pair of steps, his eyes on Sybilla’s pale face. She did not look at him.
Then he nodded, to no one but himself, it seemed, and turned to gain the dais once more.
Edward had gone to the scribe’s table and was leafing through sheaves of parchment, his long left arm braced at his side. The king spoke with the man at length and then turned away. Julian frowned as the scribe immediately took up several of the pages and then lifted the glass globe of the lantern to his left. He touched the corners of the pages to the flame and slid them into a wide-mouth brazier at his feet. The burst of flame was white as the pages disappeared.
Edward settled himself heavily into his throne in his typical posture: a sideways slouch, his previously broken leg stretched out before him, one elbow holding him aright in the seat. He stared at Sybilla for several moments.
“Sybilla Foxe,” he said at last. “Is it your admission that you sneaked into the royal camp in the year 1265 and informed me of the unguarded state of Simon de Montfort’s son’s army, leading to the siege at Kenilworth Castle, and later, the death of Lord de Montfort himself at Evesham?”
“It is, my lord,” Sybilla answered.
“And is it also your testimony that you have repeatedly and knowingly ignored royal summonses, resulting in several acts of outright disobedience to the Crown?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“How do you plead to these accusations, then?”
“I am guilty,” Sybilla said, with a lift of her chin. Julian thought she had never looked so beautiful.
“Very well,” Edward said. “Stand for your sentencing.”
Sybilla gained her feet, and even at that distance, Julian could see her swallow.
“For your crimes, Fallstowe Castle shall be fined one quarter of its wealth, payable in one fortnight.”
Julian felt his mouth fall open, but below him, Sybilla only blinked.
But Edward was not done. “In addition, you shall supply the Crown with half of Fallstowe’s armed men, fully outfitted and paid, mustering at Midsummer for a campaign of unknown duration. How do you answer?”
Sybilla nodded. “As my king wishes. It will be done.”
“Very well,” Edward said. “All other charges against you are hereby dropped, found to be without cause.”
Julian felt the breath go out of him, but he had no real time for relief, for Edward then turned to him.
“Lord Julian Griffin, stand,” the king ordered.
Julian steadied his sword and gained his feet before bowing once to the monarch.
“You have also been insubordinate in the duties set upon you some months ago by my own word. How do you plead?”
“I am guilty, my liege,” Julian said, then added quietly, “and I am very sorry, friend.”
“Let it be recorded as such,” Edward said. “As of this day, you are hereby charged with the demesne of Fallstowe Castle, as vassal to the Crown. What you do with its current occupants”—Edward glanced at Sybilla—“is at your complete discretion. How do you answer?”
“I would—” Julian was forced to stop and look down at his feet while he cleared his throat. At last he was able to look at Edward again. “I would marry the current occupant, my liege, if it pleases you.”
Edward nodded slowly. “I think that it does please me, Lord Griffin. Someone must keep that woman in check, and obviously I am not up to the task.”
Julian smiled at his king. “It shall be done right away, my liege.”
“Very well. Lord Griffin, the other charges levied against you are hereby dismissed.” The king held up his hands briefly before slapping them back onto the arms of his chair and rising. “I’m finished here.”
The king made his way from the dais through his private door, prompting the mustachioed barrister to step forth.
