In the Shadow of Midnight - By Marsha Canham Page 0,109
as if the hot coals were the bleeding corpse of an enemy.
“It is your uncle’s feeling—and mine—that Arthur’s death was quite possibly an accident. The marshal was himself present on at least two occasions when the prince was offered his freedom in exchange for permanent exile and a public declaration of his uncle’s right to succession. John threatened execution on more than just those two occasions, going so far at times to have his hangman present. But the public hue and cry were such that he was forced to try to reason with the boy. The last thing he wanted to create was a martyr. What finally happened is only speculation, but knowing the Plantagenet temper and John’s bouts of insane jealousy, it would not surprise me to learn there is heavy truth to the story he ‘arranged’ an ‘accident.’”
“His own nephew?”
“The rightful king of England,” Eduard reminded her. “John spent too many years in Richard’s shadow coveting the crown, playing regent, and ruling England as if it was his own by foregone conclusion. Do you honestly think he would hand the crown over to another simply because of blood precedence? Do you not forget, he hated Richard. He offered daily prayers for a Saracen’s sword to cut him in half, and when the Austrian king took Richard prisoner and demanded John pay a ransom to free him, he delayed almost nine months and then paid only a small portion of the amount hoping Leopold would take the Lionheart’s life by way of example. If he were not so inept and if he did not have grave misgivings on how God would look upon regicide, John would undoubtedly have slain Richard himself long before the arrow at Chalus did the business for him.”
Eduard paused, set the iron rod aside, and shrugged as if he was arguing with himself. “Conversely, he may have outgrown those reservations and had Arthur executed despite any heavenly repercussions. He could have legitimized it in his mind—and in the eyes of the law, for that matter. Richard did declare John his successor and the barons of England did support the nomination. Arthur had sworn homage to him two years earlier, the first time he had tried and failed to establish his claim to the throne. As John’s vassal, then, attempting to lead a second uprising against the king was likened unto putting his own neck across the block. John had every right to put him to trial and execute him as a traitor. He did not have any such right where Eleanor was concerned, however, and to have executed her, then or now, would have caused every baron, knight, and commoner in the realm to rise against him. To kill a rebellious vassal is something the barons could justify; to kill beauty and innocence is something no man could condone.”
Ariel glanced sidelong at FitzRandwulf, noting the tension in his jaw, the hard narrowing of his eyes as he stared into the fire. She had never seen the Breton princess, but she had heard her uncle speak in awe of Eleanor’s incomparable beauty. Hair as bright as polished silver, eyes as blue as pieces of the sky, skin so fair and white the weight of a feather might bruise it.
Was it any wonder this scarred, enigmatic knight who had been birthed into pain and ugliness would have fallen so deeply in love with her? It was just as easy to understand how a woman who had spent most of her life shuffled between the courts of an aging dowager and a French effete would fall under the spell of a handsome, brooding beast like Eduard FitzRandwulf d’Amboise. Nor was it any wonder he kept the ring hidden beneath his tunic instead of flaunting it for the world to see. Even a hint of an amorous liaison between the royal house of Brittany and a knight errant born on the wrong side of the blanket would mean the utter ruin of one and the agonizing death of the other.
Ariel stared down at her hands and saw they were trembling again.
“I do not understand why you simply did not explain all of this to me at the outset,” she said quietly, meaning more than just the intended rescue of Eleanor. “It could have saved so much time and trouble.”
“Your uncle thought it best this way. He was, I suppose, only trying to shield you, to spare you needless anxiety.”
Ariel raised her head and actually managed a smile. “To keep