Page 26 of The Champion

“Alone?”

“Aye.”

“See,” Rupert spat. “He has no alibi. He killed my brother and I demand justice.”

“We shall investigate this matter further,” the king said, stoically. “Until then, the earl shall be held in the castle under royal custody.”

Stryder’s jaw went slack at the king’s words. Indeed, even Rowena was stunned. Henry would arrest his own champion with no real evidence?

The royal guards seized Stryder’s sword and made to tie his hands behind his back.

“Wait!”

All gazes turned to Eleanor, who came forward out of the crowd. The queen passed a peeved glare from her husband, to Rowena and finally to Stryder.

“Lord Stryder has an alibi.”

Rowena had never seen more frowns or shifty gazes in her life as everyone glanced about the crowd.

“Oh please,” Henry said, his voice tired as he looked at his queen. “Tell us not he was with you.”

Eleanor’s stare turned droll. “Nay, my lord. The man was with Rowena last night, per your royal dictate.”

Rowena’s eyes widened as she found herself the focal point of everyone. It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, but no one called the Queen of England a liar and kept said tongue for long.

“Is that not right, Lord Stryder?” Eleanor asked.

Stryder opened his mouth, then shot a look toward Rowena.

“Speak up, my lord,” Eleanor said. “We know you wish to protect the lady’s reputation, but better she be compromised than you be hanged.”

“Stryder with the Bitch of Sussex?” someone said from the crowd. “I don’t believe it.”

Laughter broke through the crowd. Rowena felt her face heat up immediately.

Holding her head high, she met Stryder’s gaze and found an odd almost apologetic look there.

“And what were they doing, Your Grace?” Rupert asked. “Not to contradict your royal personage, but I find it hard to believe they would be romantically involved.”

“And so they weren’t,” Eleanor said without missing a breath. “The lady was tutoring his lordship on the lute.”

More laughter sounded.

Rowena began to panic. What was the queen thinking?

Henry looked at them skeptically. “The Earl of Blackmoor spent his evening practicing music with the lady?”

“Is this not so, Rowena?” Eleanor asked.

All she could do was nod dutifully.

“‘Tis a lie the wench told you, my queen,” Rupert said. “Everyone here knows the earl despises music.”

“A lie?” Eleanor arched a royal, censorious brow. “Lady Rowena, where is your lute?”

“In Lord Stryder’s tent,” she answered honestly.

The queen sent a squire to fetch it.