‘My lady has chosen the burning gauntlet,’ said Wincestre. ‘Does anyone have —’
‘Take mine.’ Fulke d’Ecouis stepped forward. He held out a maille gauntlet, its upper surface covered in metal plates cunningly attached to the maille. ‘I have large hands,’ he said. ‘The countess’ delicate hand shall easily slide inside.’
Wincestre took the gauntlet, showed it to me and, at my nod, handed the gauntlet to the blacksmith who plunged it into the coals using a pair of tongs.
We waited. I looked to Raife, and tried to smile for him, but I could not quite manage it.
He looked agonised.
I looked also to Edmond.
His face was not much better.
The number of people in the hall continued to grow until it was full. Eventually Edmond had to command the guards at the doors to close them against latecomers.
Apart from the hiss of the coals, it was almost silent in the hall.
Up to now my anger had been sustaining my confidence.
Now doubts crept in and I felt nerves flutter in my belly. What if I was not right? What if the knight could not protect against this?
I looked about and caught Henry standing with d’Ecouis, both men regarding me with confident smiles on their faces, happy that at the very least they would be causing me agony, even if my wounds healed enough that Wincestre could declare my innocence.
To one side a man carried a bowl of water, salve and bandages to a small table. My hand would be bound at the end of the ordeal and, if the wounds had healed within three days, then innocence was mine.
If they weren’t …
But I hoped that the bandages and salve would not be needed. I hoped …
‘Madam?’ Wincestre said, and I took a deep breath and nodded.
The bishop began the ritual, blessing those present, blessing the brazier and the now glowing gauntlet, and finally blessing me. He began a long rambling prayer, and, as he did so, I lowered my head and closed my eyes and prayed to the knight.
Help me, help me, help me now.
‘Madam?’
I opened my eyes.
Wincestre stood before me, his prayers done.
There was utter silence.
I nodded, then stepped forward as the blacksmith used two pair of tongs to lift the glowing gauntlet from its bed of coals and hold the maille open about its wrist, so that I might slip my hand into it.
The blacksmith stepped forward, the gauntlet held out before him.
It glowed a dull red.
He was three paces away, but I could feel its heat even from here.
I closed my eyes again, praying now quite desperately.
A pause, then I lifted my head and opened my eyes.
There, at the very top of the hall, standing on the dais so I could easily see him over the heads of the crowd, was the knight on his magnificent courser.
Again I could not distinguish his features, for the light streamed through the archways from the windows in the gallery bathing the knight in an ethereal light, but I could make out the slight nod of his head.
I walked over to the blacksmith and, without any hesitation, slid my right hand into the gauntlet.
The top of the gauntlet came halfway up my forearm and I smelled the burning of the sleeve of my kirtle.
There was a collective gasp about the hall.
The knight led me down to the shores of a viridescent sea, the hoof-falls of his courser muffled in the packed, damp sand. I held on to his stirrup, that I might not fall nor lose my way.
The sea mist swirled about us, and I could not see the knight’s face.
How damp and cool it is, the knight said, and I nodded, breathing in deeply of the salty air.
‘Who are you?’ I said, and I sensed a smile, but could not see it.
He did not answer.
The waves crashed and pounded, and the sea’s spray wet my face and hair and soaked the hand and arm that held on to the knight’s stirrup.
Eventually he sighed.
You must return.
Sweat poured down my face and body, sticking my clothes to my flesh. I could smell the stink of burning, hear the sizzling heat of the gauntlet.
‘Enough!’ cried Edmond, and I pulled my hand from the glove.
I hugged it to me for a moment, then held it out for all to see, palm outward.
My flesh was unmarked, my skin as white as when it had entered the gauntlet. My sleeve hung ruined from my arm, but my flesh was untainted.
Murmurs began, then cries of disbelief, and soon the hall was in as great a tumult as when Henry had first demanded the ordeal.
My whole body was shaking, but still I moved slowly forward, showing the unblemished hand and arm to any who would see it. Raife came to me, put his hands on my shoulders, begged me to come sit, but I shook my head and kept moving through the crowd.
I returned to Wincestre, and he inspected my hand, raising his face to mine in utter astonishment.
‘Innocent!’ he declared, and the hall once more erupted. I could see Alianor crying with relief, but there was one man I truly needed to face.
I walked to Henry.
‘See,’ I said, holding my hand up before him as Edmond shushed the crowd. ‘See. I am unblemished. Where lies the guilt now, Henry?’
Then I pulled back my shoulder and delivered the mightiest open-palmed blow I could to Henry’s face.
He staggered back, then gave a sharp cry, clutching at his cheek.
Steam rose from between his fingers, and blood seeped down.
D’Ecouis grabbed at Henry’s hands and pulled them away and, yet once more, the crowd gasped and moved.
The distinctive weave pattern of maille was burned deep into Henry’s cheek.
‘God has spoken,’ I said, and turned away.
Chapter Five
Raife hugged me to him so tightly he squeezed my breath away. ‘Thank God,’ he muttered over and over. ‘Thank God.’
Edmond came over, resting a hand on Raife’s arm to make him release me, if only slightly, and looked me direct in the eye.
‘Are you well, Maeb?’ he asked quietly.
‘I am, my lord, if my husband can be persuaded not to crush my ribs.’
He gave a slight smile, then turned to the crowd.
‘Hear me now,’ he said, and his voice was angry and austere. ‘Today God has judged the Countess of Pengraic of her guilt or innocence, and he has found her innocent. On that authority, should I ever hear another man or woman of this court spread vile rumour about either the Earl or Countess of Pengraic, then I shall hand them over to God’s judgment by the same means as was forced on the countess here today. The slightest rumour, the slightest blackening of her name, and this gauntlet awaits.
‘Blacksmith, cause a bracket to be made, and hang that gauntlet above the central fireplace to remind all who inhabit this hall, and enjoy my cheer, of my intent.
‘D’Ecouis, you were glad enough to hand that gauntlet over for the ordeal. I can only assume you will be glad enough to lose it completely to this just cause.’
Edmond walked over to Henry, his anger evident in his stiff gait and upright body. ‘You are a fool!’ he hissed, grabbing at his son’s chin so he could the more easily inspect the brand on his cheek. ‘That mark shall never leave you now, even your beard will not grow over it. You have shamed my name this day, boy. Get you gone from my sight until I can find it within my ability to stand your presence again.’
He gave Henry’s chin a wrench, making Henry stagger to keep his balance.
Henry shot me a glance full of hatred. ‘Witch!’ he hissed as he straightened.
Edmond took a single step forward and dealt Henry such a blow that the prince was catapulted several paces across the floor.
Then Edmond whipped about to Wincestre. ‘Bishop,’ he said, ‘can that accusation stand?’
‘No, my lord king,’ Wincestre said. ‘No witch could have endured both the prayers and the ordeal conducted under God’s name. By God’s grace and judgment, the Countess of Pengraic is a woman true and innocent.’
‘Then get that churl out of my sight!’ Edmond said to two guards standing nearby.
They hesitated an instant, then came forward, grabbed Henry under his arms, and half dragged, half supported him from the hall.
Edmond came over to me, took the hand that had endured the gauntlet, and kissed its palm gently.
‘My lady,’ he said, ‘you grace my court and my heart.’
Raife took me back to our chambers. I was weak-kneed and shaking after what had happened, and needed rest, and I barely made it back to our privy chamber on my own legs.