Page 74 of The Knight’s Reward

“Can you arrange it?” he asked Clave. Emma’s husband ground his jaw, apparently displeased by the request. He obviously thought it a poor idea to take such a direct approach, but Neill suspected it may be the only way to expose Bothwell. The man was too wily by half.

“If he does not listen to you—” Reid crossed his arms, “—you’ll have made some powerful enemies. Word will reach Bothwell. And it could even put Kathryn in danger.”

Indeed, and he would have enemies in England as well, the king and queen among them. Even so, he thought it the best way to proceed.

“She is already in danger,” he argued.

None disagreed with that statement.

“But she is under my protection. And I will protect her.”

“Aye,” Reid said, “but at what cost?”

Neill silently wondered the same.

* * *

Neill rose from his knees, remembering the last time he’d stood before a king. Even now that man awaited word from the one in front of him. The fate of their two countries, of the borderlands, was in their hands. The great kings were brothers-in-law, though the relationship had not seemed to endear them to each other.

“Sir Neill Waryn,” he was presented, “son of the late Sir Thomas Waryn, Lord of Bristol Manor.”

He waited and watched from the corner of his eye, and when the king nodded, Neill did the same.

“Alexander, by the grace of God, king of the Scots, I thank you for your audience.”

It had taken three days. Three long days for him to garner an audience with the king of Scotland. Neill was not sure how Clave managed to arrange it, but he was thankful.

Neill looked the king straight in the eye, trying to see the man behind the preeminence. Alexander was a king, aye, but he was also a servant of his country, a husband and warrior. He was capable of being moved by reason.

“Sir Neill Waryn,” the king boomed. His voice, as was legendary, reverberated throughout the opulent hall. “You are the man who inspired L’Histoire de Guillaume le Maréchal, are you not?”

A poem of his exploits in France. Neill nodded. There was little point in denying the truth, and perhaps his reputation would recommend him. “The same,” he said.

“Hmmm.”

Neill knew this next request would likely get him thrown from King Alexander’s presence. But he had made his decision, and he would follow through as he must.

“The information I bring you, Your Grace, can be shared with you alone.”

As he had suspected, dissent erupted around him. Thankfully, the Earl of Bothwell was not in attendance, just as Reid had discerned from his scouting earlier in the day, but the royal steward and the twenty or so other men in the room all voiced their displeasure.

Neill did not flinch.

The king watched him carefully. And just when Neill was sure he was about to relent, a voice from behind them broke the lengthening silence.

“Unacceptable, Your Grace.”

Somehow, Neill knew who’d spoken those words even before he saw his face.

He didn’t turn but waited until the Earl of Bothwell emerged from his right side.

Bothwell’s red beard preceded him, and a long, elaborate surcoat trailed him as he made his way to Alexander’s side.

Although the earl could not know what message Neill carried, he had certainly learned of his presence here and was threatened by it.

This man was guilty.

Of that, Neill had no doubt.