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Ignoring the last part of that, Royce replied with calm, indisputable logic, "My men outnumbered yours almost two to one. Had they attacked your men, none of them would have survived to take me into custody-yet they all returned here without so much as a scratch."
Henry relaxed slightly. With a curt nod, he said, "Which is exactly what Jordeaux pointed out in the privy council when Graverley told us his tale."
"Jordeaux?" Royce repeated. "I wasn't aware I had an ally in Jordeaux."
"You don't. He hates you, too, but he hates Graverley more because he wants Graverley's position, not yours, which he knows he ca
Royce stiffened at the unintended insult. "Not entirely surrounded, Sire," he said coolly.
In no mood to agree, even though he knew his earl spoke the truth, the king sighed irritably and motioned to a table on which reposed a tray with several jewelled goblets and some wine. In the closest thing to a conciliatory gesture he was willing to make in his present mood, Henry said, "Pour us something to drink." Rubbing the joints of his hands, he added absently, "I hate this place in the winter. The cold dampness makes my joints ache incessantly. Were it not for this tempest you've created, I'd be in a warm house in the country."
Royce complied, carrying the first goblet of wine to the king and then pouring one for himself and returning to the foot of the steps which led up to the dais. Standing in silence, he sipped the wine, waiting for Henry to emerge from his brooding reflections.
"Some good has come of this, in any case," the king finally admitted, glancing at Royce. "I'll confess I've had many second thoughts about letting you fortify Claymore and keep your own liveried retainers. However, when you let yourself be taken into custody on charges of treason by my men, who were obviously outnumbered by your retainers, you gave me proof that you will not turn against me, no matter how tempting it might be to do so." In a lightening-swift change of topic, designed to trap the relaxed and unwary, Henry said smoothly, "Yet, despite all your loyalty to me, you didn't intend to release Lady Je
Anger raged through Royce at this reminder of his utter stupidity. Lowering his goblet he said icily, "I believed at the time that she herself would refuse to go and would explain that to Graverley."
Henry gaped at him, open-mouthed, the goblet in his fingers tipping precariously. "So Graverley spoke the truth about that. Both women duped you."
"Both?" Royce repeated.
"Aye, my boy," Henry said with a mixture of amusement and a
Henry's voice hardened. " 'Tis the joke of Scotland that my own champion was duped by a pair of young maids. 'Tis also a story that's been well told and embellished in my own court. The next time you confront an adversary, Claymore, you may find he laughs in your face instead of trembling with fear."
A moment ago, Royce didn't think he could be angrier than he'd been that day at Hardin when Je
Henry abruptly stood up and walked down the steps, begi
"As a result, Rome has been demanding reparation from me in every conceivable form! Then, besides the protests from Rome and all Catholic Scotland over the girls' abduction from a holy abbey, there's the MacPherson, who's threatening to lead every clan in the highlands into war against us because you despoiled his affianced wife!"
"His what!" Royce hissed.
Henry glanced at him in disgruntled a
Rage exploded in a red mist before Royce's eyes, and in that moment he was absolutely convinced that Je
"You are spoiling the shape of that goblet, Claymore," Henry pointed out with wry irritability, watching as Royce's clenched hand forced the silver rim of the goblet into an oval. "By the way, since you haven't denied it, I assume you did bed the Merrick woman?"
His jaw clenched tight with rage, Royce inclined his head in the barest sign of a nod.
"Enough discussion," the monarch snapped abruptly, all casual friendliness banished from his voice. Putting his goblet down on a richly carved table of gilded oak, he ascended the steps to the throne, saying, "James ca
Switching to the royal plural for emphasis, the king a
Having spoken, Henry kept his ominous gaze leveled on the tall man who was standing before him, white-faced with fury, a nerve jerking in his dark cheek. When he could finally trust himself to speak, Royce's voice erupted like hissing steam. "You ask the impossible."