In Honor Bound by DeAnna Julie Dodson Page A
Authors: DeAnna Julie Dodson
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Literature & Fiction, Religion & Spirituality, Christian fiction, Christianity, Religious Fiction, Christian Books & Bibles, Religious & Inspirational Fiction
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mother's confession," Robert said flatly. "You heard her calling for John before she died, again and again for John. It was John Albright, my seneschal, she meant. John was Albright's bastard, she confessed it. I should have seen all along that he was never any of my blood."
For a moment Philip stood in silence, then he broke into his father's dark thoughts. "If this is true–"
"If! Do you doubt me? I heard her confession!"
Philip closed his eyes against the venom in the words. "Given that it is true then, how can you blame John for it? He could have had no part in their faithlessness." Grief filled his voice. "He was worthier to be a king's son than any of us. He always tried to do what best pleased you. He was loyal to you, even through all of this travesty."
Robert grabbed Philip fiercely by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet, ignoring his groan of pain. Philip fought dizziness, but his indignation sustained him and he went on.
"He never once objected to what you have done, though I know the shame of it weighed heavy on him. He actually defended you to us. He said you were our sovereign and our father and we owed you our love, our service, and our very lives. He gave you all that, and still you hated him."
"Would you have me keep a bastard as Lord of Rounchaux? Perhaps to sit one day on the throne of Lynaleigh?"
"You should have denounced him, then, if you could not let the truth die with the guilty. Even bastards are still allowed to keep their lives in Lynaleigh."
"And have my nobles know that I had been deceived these sixteen years and more? That I had claimed a squire's by-blow as son and prince of the blood? That my dear wife was a common strumpet?" Robert shook his head. "Never."
"He was your son," Philip insisted over his father's protests. "He was raised your son, and loved you as his father. No matter what you did, he loved you. You could not break that love, though you know you broke his heart." His body ached furiously, but he was determined to finish what he had to say. "I am glad to know he was not yours. Arrogance and selfish pride could never have lived in him. That's all the legacy you pass on to your sons, that and unforgiveness." He looked coldly into his father's eyes. "I think you will find that I am truebred Chastelayne."
His icy expression a match for his son's, Robert slowly removed his gloves. "We will speak no more of this, my lord of Caladen," he said, a forced evenness in his tone. "What I have done I have done, and it is not for you to question me. You are my son, and from here on I expect you to obey me without pause."
He turned to go, but Philip would not leave it at that.
"Before God, would I had been born a bastard and not tainted with the blood of a murderer!"
Spinning around, Robert gave him a vicious slap across the face. Philip dropped leadenly to the floor and did not stir.
***
Robert's eyes widened in horror. He stared at his son lying crumpled at his feet, then stiffly turned his gaze to his own stinging hand, gasping to see it smeared with blood. The blow had torn open the wound on Philip's cheek and now it was bleeding more than it had on the battlefield.
"Philip," Robert breathed, unstrung by what he had done. Sitting on the floor, he took Philip's limp body into his arms and pressed his pale cheek against his son's bloody one. "Philip, Philip," he murmured over and over again.
There was no response.
V
Palmer stood with his back to Tom's door, his arms obdurately crossed. "I do not know what was said between them, but it's weighed heavy on him. He's had no rest since he came from Prince Philip's rooms, not till just now, and I'll not have him disturbed."
Rafe was equally adamant. "Lord Philip would speak to him, and I know what he has to say will be better for Lord Tom than a fortnight's sleep. Livrette will have done with his work by now, and I told the prince I'd fetch his brother for him straight away. You must at least tell him–"
"Tell me what?"
For a moment Philip stood in silence, then he broke into his father's dark thoughts. "If this is true–"
"If! Do you doubt me? I heard her confession!"
Philip closed his eyes against the venom in the words. "Given that it is true then, how can you blame John for it? He could have had no part in their faithlessness." Grief filled his voice. "He was worthier to be a king's son than any of us. He always tried to do what best pleased you. He was loyal to you, even through all of this travesty."
Robert grabbed Philip fiercely by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet, ignoring his groan of pain. Philip fought dizziness, but his indignation sustained him and he went on.
"He never once objected to what you have done, though I know the shame of it weighed heavy on him. He actually defended you to us. He said you were our sovereign and our father and we owed you our love, our service, and our very lives. He gave you all that, and still you hated him."
"Would you have me keep a bastard as Lord of Rounchaux? Perhaps to sit one day on the throne of Lynaleigh?"
"You should have denounced him, then, if you could not let the truth die with the guilty. Even bastards are still allowed to keep their lives in Lynaleigh."
"And have my nobles know that I had been deceived these sixteen years and more? That I had claimed a squire's by-blow as son and prince of the blood? That my dear wife was a common strumpet?" Robert shook his head. "Never."
"He was your son," Philip insisted over his father's protests. "He was raised your son, and loved you as his father. No matter what you did, he loved you. You could not break that love, though you know you broke his heart." His body ached furiously, but he was determined to finish what he had to say. "I am glad to know he was not yours. Arrogance and selfish pride could never have lived in him. That's all the legacy you pass on to your sons, that and unforgiveness." He looked coldly into his father's eyes. "I think you will find that I am truebred Chastelayne."
His icy expression a match for his son's, Robert slowly removed his gloves. "We will speak no more of this, my lord of Caladen," he said, a forced evenness in his tone. "What I have done I have done, and it is not for you to question me. You are my son, and from here on I expect you to obey me without pause."
He turned to go, but Philip would not leave it at that.
"Before God, would I had been born a bastard and not tainted with the blood of a murderer!"
Spinning around, Robert gave him a vicious slap across the face. Philip dropped leadenly to the floor and did not stir.
***
Robert's eyes widened in horror. He stared at his son lying crumpled at his feet, then stiffly turned his gaze to his own stinging hand, gasping to see it smeared with blood. The blow had torn open the wound on Philip's cheek and now it was bleeding more than it had on the battlefield.
"Philip," Robert breathed, unstrung by what he had done. Sitting on the floor, he took Philip's limp body into his arms and pressed his pale cheek against his son's bloody one. "Philip, Philip," he murmured over and over again.
There was no response.
V
Palmer stood with his back to Tom's door, his arms obdurately crossed. "I do not know what was said between them, but it's weighed heavy on him. He's had no rest since he came from Prince Philip's rooms, not till just now, and I'll not have him disturbed."
Rafe was equally adamant. "Lord Philip would speak to him, and I know what he has to say will be better for Lord Tom than a fortnight's sleep. Livrette will have done with his work by now, and I told the prince I'd fetch his brother for him straight away. You must at least tell him–"
"Tell me what?"
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