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point, I fainted from hunger and thirst.”
    ThoughLucy’s account was dire enough, Celeste felt a small relief that no mention had been made of the Cavendish’s Plantagenet heritage. “Surely, ’tis no treason nor witchcraft to pray to God. What fault could they find in that?”
    Lucy’s voice sank into a hoarse whisper. “They accused us of being Catholics, of practicing an outlawed religion and going against the express decrees of the King.”
    “And thereby you could be called traitors,” Guy rumbled. “But you are free now. Why not our Tonia?”
    At the mention of her friend’s name, Lucy’s eyes again filled with tears. “Alas, they convicted her, Sir Guy! They said that since she was the eldest one of us and because she came from a great family, they would make an example of her to discourage any other members of the nobility who had popish leanings. Those horrible judges condemned sweet Tonia as a traitor and sentenced her to death.”
    Celeste sank into her chair, and ice encased her heart. “ Mon Dieu, say ’tis a trick. ’Tis a lie.”
    Lucy’s tears spilled down her cheeks. “Not so, good lady. Afterward, the soldiers turned the rest of us out into the street without so much as a groat among us, but not Tonia. The last I saw of her, they led her through another door and I know not what they have done with her.”
    Celeste swalloweddown the lump in her throat. “I pray God that she still lives. They would not dare to execute the niece of the Earl of Thornbury—not without hearing an appeal for her defense.”
    Guy stood. “Young King Edward thinks he is doing God’s will by cleaning out so-called popish heresies, but the conniving scullions who whisper in his ear know better. ’Tis earthly power they crave, and they seek to wrest it from the nobility by skullduggery, lies and intimidation. There is no gutter too low for them to wallow in.”
    “And Agatha, Margaret and little Nan? Where are they?” Celeste asked, though her thoughts rested only on her daughter’s fate.
    “We were taken in by Margaret’s cousins who live in York, though that family gave us grudging hospitality, lest we infect them with our shame.” Lucy drank the rest of her cooling ale. “They supplied us with enough coin to hire horses and escort to see us home. I came directly to you, Sir Guy. Mayhap, there is still time to save Tonia.”
    “If not, then I swear there will never be world enough or time to slake my vengeance,” he muttered.
    The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes frightened Celeste almost as much as her fear for Tonia. If Guy is rash, I could lose both husband and child within the month.
    Leaving Celeste to care for Lucy, Guy sent messengers to the nearby homes of his son, Francis, and his nephew, Kitt, heir of the Earl of Thornbury. Guy chose not to involve his powerful older brother just yet until he knew further particulars of Tonia’s whereabouts. What Guy needed now was the youth, strength and stamina of the younger Cavendish males. He intendedto be on the road to York by dawn’s light. Based on Lucy’s account of the time that had elapsed between her release and her arrival at Snape Castle, he reckoned eight days had passed since that farce of a trial. Time enough for Tonia’s execution. He buried that possibility in the depths of his mind. She was still alive, he told himself, as he sharpened his sword. He would have received word by now if she were not.
    If Tonia is indeed dead, falsely accused and even more falsely murdered, then God save the King—from me!

Chapter Three
    T he rattleof the key in the rusty lock of her cell door woke Tonia with a start. A thin stream of early morning sunlight filtered through the arrow loop window. Sitting up on the cold floor, Tonia massaged the crick in her neck where she had fallen asleep against the stool. A sudden rush of adrenaline shot through her. ’Tis morning and he’s come for me! She struggled to her feet before the executioner