The coroner leaned forward, studying her hard. “You were afraid of Bailiff Tom. Why? What did he do to you?”
“I didn’t say — I was afraid — of him.” Annabel hiccupped as she seemed to fight back the tears.
“You didn’t have to. But I wonder what the man did to you. If you don’t tell me” — a warning tone entered his voice — “I shall find out some other way.”
Ranulf imagined the coroner asking his probing questions around the village. Soon everyone would find out how the bailiff had tried to force himself on Annabel more than once. She would be embarrassed. He knew how that felt, to have all your neighbors whispering about you, about your deepest pain and humiliation.
Ranulf leapt to his feet. “Is this necessary?”
Annabel felt the tear slip down her cheek as Lord le Wyse shouted the question at Sir Clement. His reaction brought a swell of gratitude for her lord and unleashed the emotion she’d been holding back. Tears coursed down her face and dripped off her chin.
Lord le Wyse thrust his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “These questions can hardly serve your purpose. This maiden didn’t try to kill the bailiff.” His voice was harsh and angry as his gaze flicked back and forth between Sir Clement and Annabel.
The coroner looked up at Lord le Wyse as though surprised. “Forgive me.” He spoke softly. “I only have a few more.”
Lord le Wyse expelled a burst of air. He glared at the coroner. “I will not allow this … torment much longer.” He started pacing beside them.
“Forgive me, but I must proceed.” Sir Clement’s voice was smooth, almost mocking. He nodded, as if Ranulf had given him his permission, and turned back to her. “You were afraid of Bailiff Tom, weren’t you?” His voice instantly became meek and coaxing.
How could she lie? Somehow, the man already knew about her fear of the bailiff. “He — did something — that frightened me.” She glared at the coroner before swiping the tears away with the back of her hand. She hated the man’s questions, hated the halting way she spoke, and hated that she couldn’t hold back the tears. O Father God, let me not say something that will endanger anyone.
“What did he do to you?”
“He grabbed me. He tried to kiss me.” Her hands were shaking badly as she pushed a lock of hair off her cheek. “I told him I wouldn’t marry him, but he threatened … to do terrible things to me. I … I was afraid of him.” Another tear slid down her face.
“Where did you last see the bailiff?”
She felt the burn creep into her cheeks and forehead. What could she say now? What did the man know already? Her stomach knotted even tighter as she held her breath, afraid to open her lips.
“Did you see him in the forest?”
She stared past the coroner’s head. Perhaps if she said nothing he would eventually ask something else, something she could answer without revealing too much. Her heart thumped painfully as the tears dried on her face, pulling the skin tight across her cheekbones.
Sir Clement came to within inches of her chair. “Answer!”
Annabel shuddered, staring up at the towering figure.
“Sir Clement!” Lord le Wyse’s voice was as loud as the coroner’s. He quickly closed the distance between them and stood glowering at the man, his hands clenched by his sides. “Get away from her.”
Chapter
14
Her heart pounded. O God, don’t let Lord le Wyse endanger himself because of me! Surely he wouldn’t strike the king’s coroner, though the two men stood nose to nose. After interminable minutes, Sir Clement took a step away from Lord le Wyse and turned back to Annabel. Her lord took a step back as well, relaxing his fists, but his face was flushed and he continued to scowl dangerously at the coroner.
Sir Clement focused on Annabel. “Did you see the bailiff in the forest?” His voice held a dead sort of calm that sent a chill up her arms and across her shoulders.
She closed her eyes briefly then replied, “Yes.”
“Did you strike him with a rock?”
“No.”
“Did Lord le Wyse strike him?”
Annabel drew back in horror. “No!”
Lord le Wyse slumped back two more steps, and she met his eye.
“How do you know Lord le Wyse didn’t strike him? You saw who struck him, didn’t you?”
She realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it, looking down.
“You saw!”
Stephen’s face flashed before her; she had to protect him. No matter what Sir Clement said or did, her lips would remain closed and her teeth tightly clenched.
Silence pressed in around her, but she didn’t dare look up.
“Then it was Lord le Wyse, wasn’t it? He was defending you.”
Annabel’s head shot up without her willing it. Her throat tightened and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. How could he accuse Lord le Wyse? And how could she keep silent?