“I escaped Lord Shiveley and his men by diving into the moat and swimming to the underside of the bridge.”
King Richard had been studying Westley’s face while he stroked his beard. “And why do you think Evangeline is in any danger from Shiveley? He is one of my most trusted advisors.”
“My father believes he murdered his first wife. She was my father’s cousin, and her family said she often had bruises on her face and arms. After she died, her mother prepared her body for burial, and she said she looked as if someone had beaten her . . . in the head. Shiveley said she fell down the steps, but her head had more than one injury, and they were all on one side.”
“These are all very grave accusations. Is there anything else you have to say?”
“The castle stable master, Frederick, told us he believes Lord Shiveley has a more sinister intention for marrying your cousin. He believes the earl hopes to someday be king.”
“Does he have any proof of this?”
“I believe it was based on something Lord Shiveley had said to Muriel.”
“Come, then.” The king looked grim as he motioned to his guards. “Let us go down to the dungeon and see whom we might find there.”
Evangeline stood beside Lord Shiveley in the chapel before the priest.
“Where is the king?” Shiveley growled. He turned to two of his guards. “Go find him.” He spoke from behind clenched teeth. “Ask him if he realizes we are waiting for him and how much longer he will be.”
She closed her eyes and tried to block out Lord Shiveley’s face. He would surely kill Muriel, Lord le Wyse, and Frederick—and Westley, too, if he found him. The only thing she could hope for was to buy their safety . . . with her compliance. At least until she was able to free them. Somehow.
Westley accompanied the king and his two guards down one flight of stairs, then headed down the dank stone steps to the dungeon. “Pardon me, my king, but is Evangeline safe?”
“She and Shiveley are waiting for me now in the chapel to say their wedding vows.”
Westley’s heart hitched. “You must not allow him to get her alone, if you will forgive my boldness, Your Majesty. He will do harm to her, I have no doubt.”
“Did she have a red mark on her face before you left her? Or a cut on her lip?”
“You see? He has already struck her.” Heat rose into Westley’s face and sent a surge of energy through his limbs. If only he could get his hands around that man’s neck . . .
The king reached the bottom of the steps and approached two guards there. “Open the doors of the cells where Lord le Wyse and Frederick are being kept.”
“We can open those doors for no man except Lord Shiveley.” The first guard stood staring back at the king, his hand on his sword.
“How dare you? I am King Richard, and this dungeon, as well as every inch of Berkhamsted Castle, belongs to me.”
The man’s countenance fell but still he hesitated. Then he bolted past them and up the stairs.
“What is the meaning of this?” The king glared at the other dungeon guard.
He stared, openmouthed. “Your Majesty, forgive me. Shiveley told us that if we disobeyed him, even if it were the king himself, he would have us beheaded. But if you make me one of your guards, I hereby renounce any ties to Lord Shiveley. I vow to be loyal to you forever, my king.”
“Do you dare propose to bargain with your king?” He motioned to one of his guards standing just behind him. “Give me your sword.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” The man quickly took the keys and unlocked the doors.
“Open these doors, every last one of them, for I know of no prisoners of mine down here. Treachery is afoot here.”
Out came Westley’s father, Frederick, and Muriel, who fell into Frederick’s arms.
“Muriel?” the king asked in a shocked whisper. “What has Shiveley done to you?”
She lifted her head from Frederick’s shoulder and faced the king. “Lord Shiveley is mad. He planned to force Evangeline to marry him by threatening to kill me if she did not comply. I believe he thought if he was married to the granddaughter of a king, the people would be more likely to accept him as their king. It was his ultimate goal . . . to be king in your place.”
“And I suppose he has sent away my guards?”
Frederick spoke up. “Most of them, Your Majesty, on the pretense of searching for Evangeline, and the others he imprisoned in the dungeon.”
“Come. I shall confront Shiveley and we shall fight, if necessary. Who’s with me?”
“We’re willing to die for you,” they said.
Westley and the others surged up the steps toward the chapel. God, keep Evangeline safe, and make us victorious.
Evangeline studied the one doorway leading out of the small chapel, the position of Shiveley and his guards, and the priest, who stood two feet in front of her with his eyelids so low over his eyes he almost looked as if he was asleep standing up.