ElvenSilver- Hey, thanks so much for your appreciation of my writing, it is kindly received.

Essence of Destiny- You'll not get to this chapter for a while, but thanks for reviewing. Hmmmm... well, as to your comment on their speech patterns and such, I am attempting to recreate how people of olden times spoke (without the ye, thou, thee...and so on!)

Kagome- thanks! .:does New Reviewer Dance... everyone cringes:. Thank you and I will! Although...this is the last chapter... .: shrugs:.

Chapter 32: Sentenced to Hang

(A Gesture of Friendship)


Abby and Marcus stood, his arms around her as they watched from the stone balcony. Seven of the fourteen traitors to the crown stood on small wooden stools on the gallows, the hangman's nooses about their treacherous necks. With their hands tied and a company of guards between them and the crowd which had gathered, they were quite secure.

The other seven stood with a guard on either side of them, waiting to be strung up.

One of the men in the line, tall with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes shifted his gaze up to the balcony. Abby stared down at the former Earl of Mattensworth, her father. Marcus's arms tightened around his beloved, and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. The former Earl glared contemptuously at his daughter before turning his disdainful attention to the Royal Crier, as he read the charges.

" May it be known to those gathered here and to those who will presently die, that the following fourteen men," here he listed all fourteen conspirators, " have been arrested and charged for your deliberate treachery against the crown. Your plot against the King was dishonourable and shameful. For such a crime, you have been sentenced to, on this day, the Seventeenth of October the year of our King, James the IV of Arulanthu, 1264, be hung from the neck until dead. May Solaro and Remaneen judge fairly on your souls." An ominous drumroll began, and the hangman walked over the gallows, tightening the nooses of each man. The hangman glanced up at the King's balcony when he'd finished tightening.

After a motionless moment, when the drummers ceased, the King nodded curtly. The hangman kicked the stool from beneath the first man, then the second, third, fourth...Abby turned her face in horror as the seven men hung from their ropes, some writhing and struggling, others immediately dead from their broken necks.

After a few minutes, it was clear that all seven were dead, and a cheer rose from the assembled crowd.

They were unstrung and their corpses thrown unceremoniously into a waiting cart.

The final seven were strung up and the same horrible ceremony of death took place. The former Earl's gaze did not leave his daughter, even as the hangman kicked to stool out from under him and his neck broke with a terrifically loud "CRACK!" which echoed frightfully in the courtyard. Abby turned into Marcus' chest again and stayed until she heard the corpses being thrown on top of the first seven into the cart. The rest had died by strangulation, and Abby turned a tear-stained face up at her Count. He kissed her forehead and whispered comfortingly,

" It's finished, Abby. He's gone." She sighed and another tear escaped her. " Why do you cry? Surely you did not love him in any way?" Abby shook her head,

" No...I did not love him. But he was the only father I had. And now he's dead." Marcus hugged her closer, moved and distressed by her lonely tone.

" But you have me. And I'll not leave you." So they stood, arms about the other long after the crowd had dispersed.

Sophia watched from a window, unsure how to take the death of her fiancé. She shrugged and left the window, only to encounter another happy couple. Keosha and her Lord Antony Dewhurst stood together, his hands cradling her face. They were whispering to each other in low voices, each with the same love-stuck look in their eyes that Sophia had seen in the Count and Abby's eyes. She sighed quietly and made her way to her quarters, where she promptly began giving orders for the maids to pack her things.

" I shall be leaving after the Countess of Mattensworth's wedding, and not an hour later."


The King and Queen had left the balcony overlooking the courtyard in a state of sadness and respectable amount of resignation.

But now, nearly an hour later, their sadness and resignation were erased and feelings of exuberant hope had set in. The captain of the squad who had found the Duke of Lormington's body had been taken violently ill, so that he was much delayed in bringing the note. It was handed to the King, and within minutes, twenty armed men of the King's Guard arrived at number 7, Rock's Edge Street.

There was no response to the Guards' knocking, and they were obliged to break it down. After a quarter-hour of searching, a small, crystal vial was found.

The twenty officers of the King's Guards received a week's leave and a purse of gold coins.

That night, the King presented his wife with, firstly a note, written in the same hand as the tip.

Your Majesties,

Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Duke of Lormington's murderer, and also the person who left the anonymous tip in his back. I know everything about the plot which so entangled your Majesites. The Mother and Father of the Manisanri Coteries have long been desiring civil war in Arulanthu, and Mother Iku of the Green Coterie was stationed in your palace as a way to widen the cracks which your Majesties faced with the political crisis.

You nearly had her pinched with the discovery of the cordial, and your agreement with the old gypsy woman. I commend you.

Unfortunately, she is a woman of means (Mother Iku, that is) and she easily paid Lormington to destroy the vial. He, in turn paid thugs to intercept the courier and steal the vial. He then ordered them to destroy it, but the gypsy knew her business and exactly who her customer was. She placed first-rate protection spells on the vial, and eventually, the hired Magicians gave up. The vial was meant to have been given back to the Duke when it's contents had been destroyed, however, the half-gypsy woman's spells prevented this, so his hired thugs and magicians left, and because of an unfortunate...incident...the Duke never knew.

Mother Iku, coincidently, has fled with the news of your plan to abdicate...which you may not need to do now that your men have visited number 7, Rock's Edge Street.

In all respects I truly hope for your continued reign, although, if I may be so impudent as to make a friendly suggestion... your nobles are bored with the court. You would do well to liven things up.

With fondest wishes for your happiness,

Your Unknown Murderer.

" It was on my desk when I entered. The door was locked as was the window." The King explained when Moraine had finished reading. " Hard to decide to do. After all, this person freely admits to being the murderer." She smiled and shrugged,

" The Duke of Lormington was never in my good books. Now my darling," the Queen began, sitting beside the King on his bed, " What did your men find?" The King smiled in genuine happiness for the first time in months as he handed his wife a small vial.

The look on her face was of complete euphoria.

" The cordial of Tuliane flowers..." She turned her face up and kissed her husband has passionately as she knew how.


It took Meir several weeks to find any hint of Yona. Finally, he walked in the Forest for an hour, just to see.

When the young gypsy had walked down the main paths, he slipped off them to the place where he'd been most happy, the place where their caravan had camped the night of Hershel and Hinda's wedding.

It was there that Yona found him, sitting in a tree.

" I heard you'd left your caravan after the farmers had discharged you all." The young boy nodded. There was a silence, and Meir spoke for the first time since receiving his awful news.

" Hershel and Hinda are dead." Yona bowed his head.

" Yes, Hadara told me." A tear leaked from the boy's green eyes.

" I never got to see them after the escape." Yona swiftly climbed the tree and settled beside the boy.

" They both loved you." Meir nodded. He knew that. Yona handed him a handkerchief and Meir used it before posing the question he'd been wanting to ask,

" May I stay with you?" the boy waited apprehensively for his answer, and when the spy spoke, it was slowly.

" You would not be a gypsy any more." Meir nodded, understanding. " And you would want to learn my arts?" Again he nodded. There was a short pause before Yona continued.

" Well then, we'd better get back to the city. There's plenty to be learnt."

The boy and the spy jumped from the tree and began walking in the direction of the city. Slowly, Meir's small hand reached out to the man's and grasped it. Yona look down into the boy's trusting eyes and felt a twinge of sadness. Here was a poor boy, the only two he'd ever loved were dead, and all he could do was place his faith in a dark stranger. Without thinking, Yona squeezed the boy's hand, a gesture of friendship.

They walked, hand in hand into the city, each hopeful of what was to come.

Chapter 33: The Weddings (a bonus)

Abby's dark hair was pulled gently back from her face, a few trendles escaping to frame her rose-cheeked face. White and red rose buds made up her bouquet and decorated her hair. Her dress was of stunning white silk, with a square neckline, close fitting sleeves until the mid-forearm, where they spread into long and billowy. The dress emphasised her small waist with a burgundy, pearl-embroidered belt hanging over her hips and two feet down the centre of her dress. The hem of the dress, the sleeves and the neckline were all embedded with tiny, elegant pearls.

She exchanged a suppressed but joyous smile with her bridesmaids, Keosha and Sophia, who were dressed in dresses of green silk, in the same style of Abby's, though without the pearls and their belts were of a silvery material.

The beginning music began and Sophia, joined by Marcus's cousin, and then Keosha, joined by Lord Dewhurst, walked down the burgundy carpet. When they reached the Priest and Priestess of Solaro and Remaneen, they separated to their different sides and a flutes began to play. Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at Count John, soon to be her father-in-law as they walked, slowly and elegantly down the aisle to where Marcus awaited her.

He was dressed in a loose cream shirt, with similarly loose tan breeches and black boots reaching mid-calf. Marcus had had his wavy brown hair cut to just above his shoulders and on his forehead, it lay up on his handsomely tanned face. The Count's green-brown eyes returned her look of love and longing to an almost frightening degree.

Abigail and Marcus' eye contact didn't break as they listened vaguely to the Priest and Priestess and as they exchanged their vows of love.

" I, Marcus DeBracey, do solemnly swear to love and protect you, Abigail Mattensworth for so long as I can draw breath unto my body. I promise to cherish you with all the love in my being, and to respect your wit and beauty. I will love you for so long as I live, and should I break this vow, may I be taken from this world and left in the pits of hell." Abby's eyes were a grey-violet when she responded,

" And I, Abigail Mattensworth do truthfully swear to love and enjoy you and your company until I do lie dead. I promise to care for you when you are ill, and to praise you when you are whole. I promise to esteem your own intellect and your wisdom. Should I break my oath to love you, may I be carried from this world my the claws of demons to the cliffs of hell, where I should jump from...if I should ever stop loving you."

They promised with words, but it was through their eyes and in their souls that the oaths were made, and, doubtless they did not even hear the rest of the ceremony. They managed to walk from the Great Hall of the palace and into the awaiting carriage, but anything from there is a secret to anyone but the newly made Count and Countess DeBracey.


Keosha Jameson and Lord Antony Dewhurst were likewise bound together in the controversial, but in these cases, happy state of matrimony only a week after Abby and Marcus.

Keosha wore a simple dress of a silvery-white material, and her smooth face was lit with the brilliance of the stars. Her bridegroom wore the same material as a shirt and black breeches and boots, and her ecstatic happiness was matched only by Antony's. His sister Jeanine, who had realised that there were still several gentlemen who would gladly court her, had met and immediately like Keosha and the two were fast friends. While Abby and Jeanine would not ever be considered close, they got on amiably, and so they were, respectively, maid of honour and matron of honour.

The ceremony joining Keosha and Antony was simple and beautiful, and the court celebrated this surge in weddings and also, gods willing, happiness.

The End


I'd like to thank all of my reviewers (even the flames) for reading. While I did loose interest, it was for your guys' sake that I persisted and I'm glad I did. I hope you like what I've done to it, I hope it suffices.

For specific 'thank-you's, check my profile thingy.