Page 75 of The Knight’s Reward

Of his own ability to leave the court alive, he was less certain.

“No one is leaving this hall,” the earl said with authority, as if his king were not sitting beside him.

“I will determine that,” the king said, still watching Neill carefully. “Are you quite certain this is necessary, Sir Neill?”

“Aye,” he said, his voice strong. “It is, Your Grace.”

“Leave us,” the king called out to the gathered courtiers. Just when he thought victory was upon him, the king turned to Bothwell. “Stay.”

Dammit.

The hall cleared out at once, and he was left alone with the king of Scotland and the man he had intended to accuse of murder.

The idea Alexander might believe him, an unknown English knight, over his own chancellor, the man he clearly trusted above most others . . .

Perhaps the others had been right. This audience might have gone better were Garrick or Reid to bring him the news. Garrick, after all, was the Earl of Linkirk in addition to the Earl of Clave, and Reid was the second to Toren, the chief of Clan Kerr. Neill was English, through and through. But damned if he would trust Kathryn’s fate to anyone else, a decision he could admit now had been a little rash.

He thought again of that letter Kathryn had teased him about—the one he’d written to Emma crowing about his invulnerability, only for it to arrive on the eve of a great loss.

“Go on,” the king said, putting a hand up as Bothwell attempted to protest his audience.

He turned to the chancellor, knowing he had only one opportunity to convince the king of what he knew to be true. He would make an enemy today, but so be it. Without hesitation, he spoke.

“Some months ago, Richard Wyld, royal messenger to King Edward, was murdered before he could deliver the same request Your Grace received more recently, to renew your oath of fealty to King Edward and be recognized as the prince of Scotland.”

Bothwell immediately began to protest but was silenced by the king, so Neill continued without even glancing at the accused.

“The Earl of Bothwell fled the council at Brockburg when he learned of this message. I suspect he had something to do with Wyld’s fate. As evidence, I respectfully ask if the earl has tried to convince Your Grace not to renew this vow even though such an action would provoke an erosion of the peace our countries have enjoyed—”

“Until the eradication of the Day of Truce,” Bothwell bellowed.

Neill remained calm and continued to make eye contact with the king. “A decision made by the Scottish border lords—”

“Who will not treat with a man like Caxton.”

“Aye,” Neill said, addressing the king and doing his best to ignore the man who stood beside him, “and Caxton will be replaced upon word of your renewed oath.”

“So says you,” Bothwell spat.

“My king granted this as a reward,” he said, his eyes still on the king.

“For winning the Tournament of Peace,” Alexander finished. “Without such a boon, Caxton would remain in his position. Edward’s lack of resolve to keep peace in his northern borders concerns me, Sir Neill Waryn.”

He’d been prepared for this.

“I do believe, Your Grace, his father and Caxton were great allies. My king and the warden are not. He granted me the concession as a reward, aye, but it would have happened eventually if not for King Edward’s preoccupation with France.”

It was the best, and only, answer he could give.

Would it be enough?

Neill wanted to say more, but he remained silent. Alexander was known to favor silence over speech, and so he waited.

He glanced briefly at Bothwell and did not like what he saw there. The man was smirking at him. He did not appear overly concerned for a man who’d just been accused of murder.

At worst, Neill would be tossed in the dungeon of Edinburgh Castle for making false claims against the chancellor of Scotland.

At best, he would obtain King Alexander’s agreement to renew his fealty—only for him to have to return to England for a more challenging encounter with a less patient and forgiving king. A man who could easily retaliate for Neill’s broken pledge.