up in this fortress. Nobility is nae a thing that should be used to mask laziness. If Edmund Knyvett had learned that lesson I believe he would still be among the living today. Instead he was a boy in a man’s body, who managed to keep inflicting his shortcomings on the living.”
“Disliking him did not give you the right to have him murdered.”
“I didna pay for his death, man. If you cannae see that I have what I want, ye’re a blind man. Do I look like I’m eager to join the court?” Keir reached down and pulled on his kilt. “I’m a Scotsman and I plan to finish me business and go back home. There are crops to plant with a care to how it’s done, or there will be suffering on my land next winter. It is a duty my father charged me with while he was off seeing to the glory of his own gains and it is one that I intend to continue doing since I’ve no care for dancing around the king day in and day out. That is nae to say that I didna see that some of ye work hard with our monarch to keep this country running, but it is nae something I crave.”
Keir offered them a nod of his head before turning his back on them. Discontent filled him as he covered the steps that would lead him back to his tower chamber. Every fiber of his being resisted. Rebellion burned in his gut and it was getting hard to remind himself that his actions would fall onto his people’s shoulders should he act on his impulse to fight his way free.
Damned diplomacy.
“I have decided on my vote.” Roan Lawley, Baron Heaton, spoke up.
Brodick turned to stare at the man. He had kept his thoughts to himself throughout the proceedings and had been the one lord who refused to pass a verdict. He was a large, burly man. He wore only a wool suit, cut in the English fashion, but lacking lace and baubles. The finest thing on him was his boots. Brodick admired them for the workmanship. They came up his legs and the top of his pants tucked into them.
“Innocent. That man is innocent.”
Bramford sputtered but Roan Lawley turned to glare at him. Bramford snapped his jaw shut instantly, upon which Brodick raised his eyebrow. There was something there. Something a plain wool suit hid.
“Do you wish to change your ruling on Lord Ronchford?”
Baron Heaton fingered his chin. “If my silence vexes you gentlemen, so be it, but I have stood before a panel of my peers and it is no light duty in my opinion. I will not cast my vote without firm conviction in my conscience. I still find insufficient evidence to condemn Lord Ronchford. Or to find him innocent.”
“But enough to set Lord Hurst free?” Bramford asked the question. It annoyed Lord Heaton. He rose and towered over his fellow English lord.
“The man didn’t come to court expecting a title.”
“But that does not mean he didn’t marry with an eye on gaining one.”
Lord Heaton frowned. “I doubt you understand, Lord Bramford, but I do know what it is like to be locked up while my responsibilities go unattended. Lord Hurst is not a man who places his position above his honor. If that were so, he never would have spoken as he just did, without a care for the egos sitting in front of him.”
Lord Heaton turned his attention to Brodick. “He reminds me of you.”
Brodick chuckled. For all his English blood, the man was likeable.
James Stuart smiled—at least, inwardly. His gut had been clenched most of the day while he waited for word from the Tower.
“McQuade is judged not guilty.”
Several of his advisers frowned. His temper itched to slap them down, but that was the sort of thing that made for short-lived kings. The world was not as it had been at the time of Henry the Eighth. Elizabeth had known that and left him a mighty nation, thanks to her ability to walk down the center of every hot issue laid before her.
“But this leaves the matter of murder of a peer unresolved.” His Privy Council was not as happy as he was. James couldn’t blame them. His own life might be the next taken if the masses believed that they might get away with murder.
“The rack would gain the name of the culprit.”
James stared at Lord Brampton. “Would ye have me behaving like