Alex Bledsoe - Dark Jenny

“I don’t believe that,” Kay seethed. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

“A man with the moral high ground,” Drake said wryly. He turned to Jennifer. “So now what should we do?”

“You’re asking me?” she replied, and added a derisive “Hmph.”

“This is all about you,” he almost, but not quite, snarled. “By tonight, every Knight of the Double Tarn will know Gillian asked for trial by combat, and that one of them will be asked to stand in for Elliot.”

“How will you get out of it?” Kay asked.

Drake shrugged. “If Gillian really demands it, I’ll have to let him have it.”

“Are you serious?” Jennifer gasped. “You’ll let my honor, your wife’s honor, be decided by two thugs with swords?”

“I have a country to run, Jennifer. The loyalty of the military is essential to that, and they already think you’re guilty. I have to overcome that somehow.”

Jennifer stepped toward him slowly, trembling with fury. “So you, my husband, the man who shares my bed, would give in to these demands just to save face.”

“To save Grand Bruan,” he corrected.

“This is absurd,” she said again, and turned with a swirl of her silk gown. “I’ll be in my sewing room. When you have some rational thoughts, please let me know.” Her door slam was far more emphatic than Gillian’s.

Drake sighed and dropped into the nearest chair. He looked up at Kay and me. “Okay, fellows. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Is there any way to get word to Elliot?” Kay asked.

Drake shook his head. “I’d have to send one of the knights, and then everyone will know it’s because I don’t think anyone else will stand up for the queen’s innocence.”

“ Will anyone?” I asked.

No one answered.

Drake pondered a moment, then said, “I suppose, as Jennifer’s husband, I could fight Gillian.”

“No,” Kay said quickly. “You are the king, you have to stay above it all and pass judgment.”

Drake chuckled. “Not in a trial by combat. The winner’s sword is all the judge they need. You just don’t think I can beat Tommy, do you?”

Kay said nothing.

Drake turned to me. “You’ve got a unique perspective on this, Mr. LaCrosse. What do you think I should do?”

“Put off this fight as long as you can,” I said. “Let Kay investigate this further. The killer is here, and he’ll find him. Maybe he’s this ‘Kindermord’ the queen mentioned.”

Drake shook his head. “There’s no time. Somebody will have to fight Gillian, unless I get a lot smarter between now and tomorrow morning.” He paused. “And there’s no one named Kindermord. It’s just old gossip, older even than the stuff about Jennifer.”

Kay sighed. “Marc, I’m really sorry about all this. It happened on my watch.”

Drake smiled. “Bob, if it hadn’t happened on your watch, Jennifer’s head might already be decorating the main gate.” Drake heaved his large frame from the chair. “And now, if I don’t get in there and make peace with her, my head might be up there in the morning.”

“I’ll do what I can, Marc,” Kay said.

“Bob,” Drake asked quietly, “do you believe she’s guilty?”

“No,” Kay said at once.

Drake turned to me. “And you?”

I held up my hands. “I’m a prisoner, I have no opinion either way.”

Drake indicated my manacles. “Do we really need those, Bob?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s not involved,” Kay said. “But it only takes one percent to kill you.”

Drake nodded. “That’s true. I suppose I should go attempt to mollify my own one percent, then. Bob, keep me posted. Good evening, gentlemen.”

Drake went into the other room where Jennifer awaited. I almost expected crockery to fly past his head when the door opened, but it closed behind him uneventfully.

“You have no ideas about anything?” Kay demanded. “That makes me look real good for building you up to the king. Thanks.”

I clenched my fists; well, at least my left one. He was lucky I didn’t shatter my cast on his skull. I snapped, “You really want to know what I think? Even if you had a dozen guys like me, you’d never get to the bottom of this. A royal court is always full of secrets, and this one is no different, although it is impressively complicated. I mean, hell, maybe this was all to force Gillian into a tournament; I’d look real hard at anyone who volunteers to fight for the queen.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kay said, still fuming.

For some reason this disapproval made me even more determined to defend myself. “And even if I stayed and cleared up this mess, another one would just spring up in its place. That’s how it works.”

I must’ve sounded condescending, because Kay’s angry redness deepened almost to purple. “I don’t expect you to understand, you being a sophisticated outsider like you are. But this court, this king, this country, is different. We’ve earned the chance to make a safe, secure future for our children, instead of adding their blood to what’s already soaked into this island. That chance means each of us has to do everything, everything to make it work, to hold this dream of Grand Bruan together.”

He gestured at a nearby painting that showed a triumphant Marcus Drake on horseback, sunlight glinting off his upheld sword. “You see this? There has never been a single, unified government on this island in recorded history before this one. Now no one dares to attack us with swords and armor anymore, so they come after us with ideas, with gossip, with death by damn poison. And that poison spreads with every lie and accusation that gets made. It can’t be stopped with armor and swords, only with this.” He touched his temple. “And those of us who have learned to fight only with our hands need the help of people like you, who know how to fight that way.”

This passionate tirade, coming as it did from a big, square-headed soldier who at first glance might not appear to know any two-syllable words, moved me far more than I wanted to admit. Still, I held up my wrists and rattled them for emphasis. “It’s not my fight, Kay. And it’s only my problem until I get these off for good.”

Kay looked at me for a long, silent moment, searching my face for the idealism he was sure lay hidden there. He didn’t find it. Finally he sighed, “Damn it, Eddie,” then turned away and struck the stone wall with the flat of his hand. The noise echoed. Without looking he said, “I’ll take you back to your room, then, until I can make arrangements to get you safely out of the castle.”

The relief I felt at those words was tempered by the guilt at disappointing Kay. “I’m sorry, Bob.”

“Me, too.”

The door to my luxurious prison once again closed behind me, and the lock clicked in the silence. I felt as if I’d just kicked the crutches out from under a one-legged man.

For good measure I wedged a heavy chair against the door handle. If that mob of angry lacehounds somehow got past the guard and wanted in, they’d at least have to get mussed up a little. And more important, it would alert me should Agravaine decide to make a strike; he’d have to work harder than this to catch me off guard.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I couldn’t believe I was actually trapped in a castle like some fairy-tale princess, but here I was. Half the people around me thought I was a murderer, the other half wanted an innocent woman to burn at the stake, and the world’s greatest king was hamstrung by his own code of honor and law. I’d be immensely glad to be away from here and back in the real world.

I worked my shoulders to get out the stiffness from being in chains all day, but only dislodged a big, heavy yawn. Everything I told Kay was true: it wasn’t my fight, it wasn’t my problem, and Grand Bruan’s internal politics were none of my business. But two things continued to nag at me despite my efforts to ignore them.