Page 71 of His Forsaken Bride

“You can’t go back on it now, my boy,” Wymer said sadly shaking his head. “Your goose is well and truly cooked!”

Oswald looked about them. “It’s about the last of the Blechmarshes,” he said in a murmur.

“Everyone out!” roared the King. The courtiers straggled about the room leaped to their feet. They filtered out apart from Bathilde, his old trusted nanny, who made sure the chamber door was secure. “What’s that bitch done now?” he asked, then looked sheepishly across at his old nurse, who clicked her tongue. “Sorry nurse,” he said absently. She nodded her sheep-like head and returned to folding his smalls.

“I’m afraid three men broke into Mendip Hall,” Oswald said naming the residence where the northern princess was being held under house arrest. “And attempted to wrest her from Lord Mycott’s custody.”

The King jumped out of his chair. “If you’re going to tell me she’s broken free...” he started angrily.

“Calm yourself, sire. She is not at large, but safely back under lock and key.”

“Back under lock and key?” burst out Wymer, turning purple. “You mean she was at liberty? And I knew nothing of it?”

“She was taken only as far as the gatehouse,” said Oswald soothingly. “And got no further.”

Wymer paced over to the window, his back to Oswald. “Well, there’s nothing else for it,” he said. “She’ll have to be executed now.” He turned back confrontationally to Oswald. “Even you must see that, Vawdrey?” he said, his jaw jutting out.

Oswald was silent.

“My life and the life of my son are in peril, every moment that female still breathes…” he fumed.

“She returned to Mycott herself,” said Oswald calmly.

“What?”

“It’s true. She convinced the sole remaining plotter to leave her, and returned to Mendip House on foot, alone.”

“He escaped?” demanded the King.

“He was just a boy, according to Mycott. The two older males were both killed in the struggle.”

Wymer’s face twitched. “They will never stop plotting to topple me and place her on my throne while she’s still alive!” he fumed. “Why my own Council refuses to see that is beyond me!”

“You will merely make a martyr of her, if you were to behead her,” said Oswald resolutely. “Wars are waged in the name of dead martyrs. And need I remind you, that just across the sea there are countries who would look askance at the execution of a young, defenseless princess of royal blood…”

“The Blechmarsh bloodline is cursed!” muttered Wymer bitterly.

“She calls you cousin,” pressed Oswald doggedly. “Mycott himself says she remonstrated with the attackers and told them to leave her be, as she was under your protection.”

“Hah! Likely a ruse for his benefit, the old fool!”

Oswald held his tongue, for the King knew as well as he, that Mycott was fiercely loyal to Wymer and nobody’s fool.

“So, you expect me to just sit back and do nothing, while enemy forces rally under her banner!” complained the King. “This is intolerable!”

“Nay, your highness. I agree a change of strategy is needed,” said Oswald.

“He agrees!” cried the King, throwing up his hands. “Glory be!” He wandered over to a golden goblet and took a draught of ale. “I suppose,” he said, glowering fiercely. “That you’ve some ideas in mind, for this change of strategy?” Oswald opened his mouth, but before he could even reply, the King was exclaiming in disgust. “Of course, you do! You’ve got some nerve, Vawdrey, I’ll give you that. Walking in here, bold as brass, telling your sovereign what he can and cannot do!”

Oswald watched him warily as the King paced back and forth. Finally, he swung back around and looked Oswald up and down. “I suppose I will have to be led by you,” he said wearily. “Though it pains me to say it. You’ve not led me astray yet.” He huffed and shook his head as he returned to his seat by the fire. “Let’s hear it, and it better be good,” he warned. “Take a seat with me.”

Oswald approached the fire and drew up a chair. “This may sound rash, but hear me out.”

“Rash? You?” The King looked skeptical.

“I want you to bring her to court.”

For a moment Wymer did not react at all. Then his face turned very red. “Bring her to court, he says. The false claimant and would-be usurper for my throne. At my court.” He peered at Oswald. “Then what?”