hunkered down before their guest so that his great height would be less intimidating. Taking Lucy’s trembling hand in his, he spoke to her in gentle tones. “Now, then, Lucy, what is amiss?”
The girl’s eyes grew larger and fresh tears appeared in their corners. “They have taken Tonia away, my lord. Methinks they are going to…to…to execute her.” She dissolved again into weeping.
Celeste felt hot and cold at the same time. A drumming hummed in her ears. I cannot faint! Oh, my sweet Tonia! She dug the nails of her fingers into her palms to keep from collapsing.
Though Guy’s voice remained soft, a dreadful chill crept into his azure eyes. “Tell us who threatens to do this most foul deed, Lucy.”
The girl wiped her nose on the tail of her hanging sleeve before replying, “The King’s men, Lord Cavendish. They came to our house over a week ago in the dark of the night.”
“Where were my men?”
Lucy hunched her shaking body deeper into the folds of the robe. “Norton and Thompson tried to stop them. They demanded to see the King’s orders but the soldiers…oh, my lord, the soldiers killed them on the doorstep.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
Guy compressed his lips into a thin line. “Are you sure they were minions of King Edward?”
Lucy nodded. “They wore the rose badge and the King’s cipher on their surcoats.”
Celeste and Guy exchanged quick glances. For decades the Cavendishes had feared just this sort of attack from the Tudor upstarts who had snatched the crown of England nearly seventy years ago. Someone must have discovered the family’s secret of their Plantagenet blood and their remote claim to the throne through their descent from King Edward IV of blessed memory. Both King Henry VII and his son, Henry VIII, had spent their lifetimes wiping out the last known traces of the realm’s lawful rulers. But to have visited their obsessive vengeance upon an innocent young woman was beyond perfidy—yet a craven trick well practiced by the uneasy Tudor kings.
Guy squeezed Lucy’s hand. “What happened then?”
Lucy drew the furred robe tighter around her. “The soldiers bound us, even though Tonia fought them. Then they bundled us into a dark coach and drove off into the night.” She grimaced. “Their hands were not gentle nor their tongues. They called us traitors, whores and a great deal of worse filth.”
Anger at the indignities forced on her daughter and her companions replaced Celeste’s fear. Striving to keep her boiling temper out of her voice, she asked, “Did those churls…touch you in an unmannerly way?”
Again Lucy shook her head. “They said they would ravish us if we did not obey their orders, but they never dared to carry out their threats.”
Blue fire blazed in Guy’s eyes. “Where did the knaves take you?”
“To York, though we did not know it at the time. The carriage’s windows were covered with a heavy black cloth. We were blindfolded inside a mews before they led us into the courtroom.”
“They convened a trial against you?” A muscle throbbed along Guy’s jawline.
“Aye, my lord,” the girl answered. “Three bearded men in black robes questioned each of us in turn. Hour upon hour they harangued us about our religious beliefs and our little nunnery. They wanted to know if we held allegiance to the Pope in Rome or to King Edward. They asked us if we read the Bible and what prayers we recited. They even asked us if we danced with the devil or practiced witchcraft. At one point, I fainted from hunger and thirst.”
Though Lucy’s account was dire enough, Celeste felt a small relief that no mention had been made of the Cavendish’s Plantagenet heritage. “Surely, ’tis no treason nor witchcraft to pray to God. What fault could they find in that?”
Lucy’s voice sank into a hoarse whisper. “They accused us of being Catholics, of practicing an outlawed religion and going against the express decrees of the King.”
“And thereby you could be called traitors,” Guy rumbled. “But you are free now. Why not our Tonia?”
At the mention of her friend’s name, Lucy’s eyes again filled with tears. “Alas, they convicted her, Sir Guy! They said that since she was the eldest one of us and because she came from a great family, they would make an example of her to discourage any other members of the nobility who had popish leanings. Those horrible judges condemned sweet Tonia as a traitor and sentenced her to death.”
Celeste sank into her chair, and ice encased her heart. “Mon Dieu, say ’tis a trick. ’Tis a lie.”
Lucy’s tears spilled down her cheeks. “Not so, good lady. Afterward, the soldiers turned the rest of us out into the street without so much as a groat among us, but not Tonia. The last I saw of her, they led her through another door and I know not what they have done with her.”
Celeste swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I pray God that she still lives. They would not dare to execute the niece of the Earl of Thornbury—not without hearing an appeal for her defense.”
Guy stood. “Young King Edward thinks he is doing God’s will by cleaning out so-called popish heresies, but the conniving scullions who whisper in his ear know better. ’Tis earthly power they crave, and they seek to wrest it from the nobility by skullduggery, lies and intimidation. There is no gutter too low for them to wallow in.”
“And Agatha, Margaret and little Nan? Where are they?” Celeste asked, though her thoughts rested only on her daughter’s fate.
“We were taken in by Margaret’s cousins who live in York, though that family gave us grudging hospitality, lest we infect them with our shame.” Lucy drank the rest of her cooling ale. “They supplied us with enough coin to hire horses and escort to see us home. I came directly to you, Sir Guy. Mayhap, there is still time to save Tonia.”
“If not, then I swear there will never be world enough or time to slake my vengeance,” he muttered.
The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes frightened Celeste almost as much as her fear for Tonia. If Guy is rash, I could lose both husband and child within the month.
Leaving Celeste to care for Lucy, Guy sent messengers to the nearby homes of his son, Francis, and his nephew, Kitt, heir of the Earl of Thornbury. Guy chose not to involve his powerful older brother just yet until he knew further particulars of Tonia’s whereabouts. What Guy needed now was the youth, strength and stamina of the younger Cavendish males. He intended to be on the road to York by dawn’s light. Based on Lucy’s account of the time that had elapsed between her release and her arrival at Snape Castle, he reckoned eight days had passed since that farce of a trial. Time enough for Tonia’s execution. He buried that possibility in the depths of his mind. She was still alive, he told himself, as he sharpened his sword. He would have received word by now if she were not.
If Tonia is indeed dead, falsely accused and even more falsely murdered, then God save the King—from me!
Chapter Three
The rattle of the key in the rusty lock of her cell door woke Tonia with a start. A thin stream of early morning sunlight filtered through the arrow loop window. Sitting up on the cold floor, Tonia massaged the crick in her neck where she had fallen asleep against the
