The Sapphire Broach

Chapter 28 (rough draft)

Kenric raced Sweetie through town and back to where he had left Ivy the night before. He tried to calculate how far ahead of him she would be. She was on foot while he had a horse, but he had walked an hour to his house after he left her, and she likely walked at least an hour after that. If she had risen early that morning, she would have already traveled three or more hours.

She could be as much as six hours ahead of him. If he rode Sweetie the whole time, he could catch her in three, except that she could have pulled off the road at any moment. He would have to watch for signs of her which meant he would have to travel slowly.

He cursed. Why had he ever left her? If he had only known, he would have vowed to protect her to the end. But he hadn't known. She had made sure of that. Why had she not told him? He knew the answer: because she knew he would have chosen to go with her instead of returning to his family.

He sighed. How had she remained so positive when she knew her fate? Through their terrible journey she had known she would end up at the palace alone confronting King Rymond. He should have been kinder to her. He should have helped her.

With a shake of his head, he rid his mind of such thoughts. They would not help now. He had to focus and watch the road for signs of her. She might have left the road the moment he left her, but something told him she had not, so he stayed and let his eyes scan the edges of the road and the bushes just beyond.

He saw nothing and really didn't know what he might be look for. His heart yearned to race off to the palace, heedless of all else, but he forced Sweetie to take her time and continued to watch.

An hour passed and he nearly gave up. Then he saw something hanging from a leafless branch just off the road. He pulled Sweetie to a stop and jumped from the saddle. A piece of torn fabric fluttered in the breeze, and his chest began to pound. He would recognize that deep green material anywhere. He bent and touched it. It was fabric torn from Ivy's dress.

Had she simply caught it on the bush when she headed off the road, or had something worse happened? He grabbed it and stood. Something caught the morning light and sparkled up at him from a pile of leaves. He paused, then bent and brushed the leaves away. Blazing like a beacon of hope and a terrible omen of danger was the sapphire broach.

"Ivy!" Kenric grabbed it, threw himself back on Sweetie and spurred her forward. "Go, Sweetie! Hurry!"

Sweetie's hoof beats thundered on the dirt road. Kenric urged her on. They had to hurry! Without the broach no one would believe Ivy. He had to get there before King Rymond found a way to silence her.

***

Ivy shivered in the dank cell where the soldiers had thrown her. A barred window looked out over the town square where people had already begun to gather around the large wooden dais. She looked at the throne atop it and remembered her father sitting there to watch the summer festivities. She had sat there with her mother, too, surrounded by guards.

She also remembered a time when she had sat by her father during a public hearing. A man had been accused of heinous crimes that affected several families in the town. The man has stood haughtily before them all on the dais while the townspeople and a group of her father's judges had judged him. He had been found guilty and had marched proudly to his death.

Ivy turned away from the window before her eyes strayed to the swinging gallows at the edge of the dais, but she knew they were there. Her father had turned her away before the man hung, but she had peaked. He had struggled, then his limp body had hung there and turned slowly with the twisting of the rope, his eyes had still been open.

She rubbed her bound hands across her eyes to rid them of his image. Nothing good could come of dwelling on such things. When her time came, all she could do was tell the truth and hope that someone, somewhere, would believe her. They had to believe her, but without the broach . . .

Footsteps sounded in the hall beyond. She stiffened. Seven armed soldiers approached her cell. One unlocked it and opened the door while the others filed in around her. A man grabbed each arm and dragged her from the cell. She tried to confidently move her feet along, but found that they stumbled and dragged behind her.

The sounds in the square deafened her. Women talking, men laughing and mocking, children playing, soldier swords clanking, a wailing baby, and other undistinguishable sounds. The smell of sweat and dirt assaulted her nose and flapping banners and bright clothing nearly blinded her.

The soldiers led her up the steps onto the dais. She stumbled up them, her mind reeling. Then she saw Rymond sitting on her father's throne. All other sights and sounds vanished and she again walked with sure footing.

Rymond stood and the townspeople hushed. "My people." He opened his arms to them all. "I have gathered you here to judge this woman. She has spoken harshly against me, your king. I wish for you now to hear her treasonous and malicious words."

He turned to her. "Face my people, woman, and tell them what you will." Then he sat.

Ivy faced the crowd. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She tried to swallow, but her throat constricted and nearly choked her. This was her moment. It was not glorious as she had imagined and would not end in overthrowing Rymond. He would continue to reign in tyranny and their allies would come to war against them.

She would not be there, but perhaps if one person believed the words she was about to speak then someday the truth would prevail.

"I am Princess Gertrude Ivynona, the third of Berryann."

Silence followed her words, then someone shouted, "Then show us the sapphire broach!"

"Yes!"

"Show us!"

"Where is the broach?"

Rymond stood and the crowd fell silent again. "They make a wonderful point, woman. Show us the broach."

She looked at him. "You know I do not have it."

Murmurs arose from the congregation.

"Let me explain!" she cried. "The king's soldiers captured me and my dress was torn while I struggled to free myself. The broach was in a special pocket that ripped."

"Foolish girl!" Rymond's voice rose above the mutters of the throng. "You expect us to believe such ridiculous lies? Anyone could stand before us and claim such a thing. Without the broach, there is no Missing Child. Do you have anything else to say for yourself?"

"Yes!" Ivy cried. She knew she was losing the crowd. She had to speak now or it would be over. "I am the Missing Child and King Rymond is a murder. He locked my parents in our carriage, then sent it off that cliff. He used to be one of my father's personal guards. He admitted it to me in the throne room this morning."

"Oh," Rymond sneered. "You mean when we were alone in the throne room? So again you have no evidence and no witnesses."

She had no response. What else could she say? Rymond would twist her words and turn everyone against her. He already had.

"You put up a powerful defense foryourself, woman," he mocked. "I am sure you have convinced the kingdom of yourwords." He turned again to the townsfolk. "As I see it, this woman is guilty oftreason, the penalty of which is death by hanging. Her words, whether true orfalse, affect all of you, so I leave it to you, good people, to placejudgement."