Keys rattle and doors bang. With their marching footsteps echoing, Jean hurries down a dim passage with Louis at his side, looking anxious. They reach a cell door which Jean pulls open without ceremony and they both enter the cell to find Raoul tied to a chair, three guards surrounding him. They are shocked to see the state Raoul is in. Bloodied, hair in disarray, his fine clothes covered in dust. One of the guards throws a bucket of water over Raoul to wake him and wash away the crusted blood on his face. Raoul shakes his head.
Louis turns, furiously at the guard, snatching the bucket from him and flinging it against a wall. ‘What happened to him? Who did this? You?’
‘He resisted arrest. We had to defend ourselves!’ The guard replies coldly.
‘A likely story. One boy against all you guards!’ Jean spits sarcastically.
The door opens and Sir William Kingston enters. Louis points at Raoul. ‘I protest. Just look at my son.’
Kingston looks on concerned. ‘Untie him,’ he orders with a commanding voice. He turns to Louis, ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this.’
Raoul speaks, his voice weak, ‘I surrendered my sword, but they still beat me.’
Jean glares at Sir William who seems embarrassed. He snaps at the guards, ‘Outside, all of you!’
‘I tried to get her home,’ Raoul continues.
As the guards troop out, Jean produces a flask, pouring the contents into Raoul’s mouth. ‘Drink a little of this,’ Raoul drinks the tonic from it.
Sir William stands before Raoul. ‘I’m afraid some serious charges have been made against you.’
‘But why? I’ve done nothing wrong,’ he answers innocently.
‘You tried to abduct Lady Roselyn and you’ve nearly killed Sir Howard Blair’s son, Nigel.’
‘It’s a lie. I was bringing her home.’
Jean interrupts, ‘Whose son?’
‘Sir Howard Blair.’ Is the answer Kingston gives, which makes Jean let out a breath and closes his eyes painfully. ‘Might I hear the charges?’ Louis asks slowly although puzzled by Jean’s reaction.
‘There are several,’ Sir William tells him.
‘Why? I was bringing her back home,’ Raoul repeats. ‘She was drunk. I was looking for a way in when that Nigel appeared and attacked me.’
Sir William does not sound hopeful. ‘It will depend on your word against his and quite frankly lad, I don’t fancy your chances.’
***
The following morning, Raoul, bruised and dishevelled, in chains, stands before the judge in a dark, damp interrogation room within the Tower. The wooden floor below his feet creeks as he moves uncomfortably. The only people present are Raoul, the judge, a scribe and a couple of yeomen who guard Raoul.
The judge stares at Raoul. Round faced, thin hair protruding below his cap, his hostile tone matches the look coming from his eyes. ‘This is a trial to bring charges against you of abduction and attempted murder on two loyal subjects of His Majesty. If you confess during these proceedings you will find the court merciful.’
‘It is all a misunderstanding.’
‘Silence!’ shouts the judge. ‘You will make no utterance except to answer my questions or confess. For what reason did you kidnap Lady Roselyn?’
‘I didn’t! I was carrying Lady Roselyn back to her home because she was drunk. Nigel Blair saw me bring her back by wherry to her family grounds, then he attacked me.’
‘Squire Nigel Blair says nothing of the sort. You had been paying such lavish attention onto her, as her Abigail says, you had become infatuated with her.’
‘She would say that.’
The judge glares at him. ‘I repeat, do not talk out of turn. You then drugged her so she was incapable of walking. We know plainly that you wounded with your sword Squire Nigel Blair when he tried to rescue her.’
‘No. It was in self-defence.’ He tries to raise his hands, but cannot without difficulty, being bound by chains.
‘That is an assumption. Not what the court believes. We have the facts. It is your word against one of noble birth and the son of a noble.’ He meets Raoul’s eyes then looks over at the scribe who has stopped writing, his quill hovering in mid-air.
‘May I see my father?’ Raoul asks.
‘No.’ The judge’s face shows very little compassion. ‘You willingly and maliciously drugged and kidnapped the Lady Roselyn and when Squire Nigel Blair tried to rescue her, in an act of skulduggery you stabbed him and ran away. Those are the facts.’
‘How could I drug Lady Roselyn?’ His face becomes distorted as he struggles to hold back his anger. He begins to feel very hot.
‘Do not contradict the court, mind your manners,’ the judge growls.
‘I’m trying to explain…’ Raoul stiffens, he looks at the judge with impotent rage, helpless. Whatever he says, his doom is written all over the judge’s face.
The judge fixes Raoul with stony eyes, ‘I see no reason to prolong this trial. You seem to possess no principles at all. Raoul Rombaud, the court finds you guilty of all charges brought against you and sentence you to be executed at the earliest opportunity. Take away the prisoner.’