第15章 The Escape

The plan was simple and dangerous. Edward would enter the fortress alone, carrying the crown, and he would demand an audience with Aldric. The loyalists would create a diversion at the opposite gate, drawing the guards away and creating confusion. Edward would use the confusion to reach the throne room and present his claim before the court. It was a gamble, but it was the only one they had. Edward knew that if he failed, if he was captured or killed, the dream of restoring his family's throne would die with him. But he also knew that he had no choice. He could not return to Oakhaven and live out his days as a peasant. He could not accept the life that had been forced upon him. He had to fight, and he had to win. He walked through the main gate of Blackstone Keep at noon, the crown held high, his chest bare, his face set in determination. The guards at the gate shouted at him to stop, to surrender, to identify himself, but Edward did not stop. He walked forward, his steps steady, his heart pounding, and when they tried tostop him, he raised the crown and it flared with light, a blinding radiance that forced the guards to shield their eyes. I am Edward of Northgate! he shouted. Son of Gareth and Isabella! Heir of Edmund the Third! I claim the throne of the Western Isles! The sound of his voice echoed through the courtyard, and soldiers came running from every direction, their swords drawn, their faces twisted with anger and fear. But Edward did not stop. He walked through the courtyard, through the inner gates, through the corridors of the fortress, his voice ringing out with each step. He was no longer a farmer's bastard, no longer a peasant, no longer a man without a name or a place in the world. He was Edward of Northgate, heir to a throne stolen by murder and tyranny, and he would not rest until justice was done. I am the true king! Aldric is a usurper! He killed my grandfather and stole my throne! I demand justice! The throne room was filled with nobles and courtiers, all of them looking up in shock as Edward burst through the doors, the crown blazing in his hands. The room fell silent, the only sound the echo of Edward's footsteps on the stone floor. Aldric sat on the throne, a fat man with a cruel face and eyes full of rage, and he rose as Edward approached, his face contorted with fury. You dare? Aldric thundered. You dare enter my throne room with that... that trinket and claim what is mine? I dare because it is mine by right of blood, Edward said. His voice was steady, calm, confident. The crown has spoken. It has chosen me. Can you deny the voice of Saint Edmund? Aldric's face twisted with fury. Seize him! Kill him! Take that cursed object from him! The guards hesitated. They looked at the crown, at its blinding light, at the power that radiated from it, and they did not move. Edward saw their fear, and he used it. He stepped forward, holding the crown high, and he spoke to the court, to the nobles, to the guards, to all who stood in that room. Look at the crown! he shouted. Look at the truth it reveals! Aldric is a murderer! He killed King Edmund! He stole my grandfather's throne! He built his power on lies and blood! Is this the king you want? Is this the ruler you will follow? The court was silent. The nobles looked at each other, their faces full of doubt and fear and the dawning realization that everything they had been told was a lie. Aldric saw it too, and his rage turned to desperation. Kill him! he screamed. Kill him now! But the guards did not move. They looked at Aldric, at his wild eyes and twisted face, and they saw not a king but a tyrant. They saw the man who had ordered the assassination of their king, who had seized the throne by force, who had ruled through fear and violence. And they had had enough. One by one, the guards lowered their weapons and turned away from Aldric. Then one by one, the nobles bowed to Edward, acknowledging his claim, accepting his right. And then the crowd erupted in cheers, the sound of voices raising in praise and celebration, and Edward felt the weight of the crown on his head, the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders, and he knew that he would not fail them. The journey was tense and silent. Edward sat at the bow, the crown wrapped in cloth on his lap, his mind racing with possibilities and fears. He thought of his father, who had died without ever knowing that his son would one day claim a throne. He thought of his mother, whose name had been erased from history, whose sacrifice had allowed him to live. He thought of Richard, his half-brother, who sat on Northgate's throne and would one day have to answer for what he had done. And he thought of Aldric, the usurper, the murderer, the man who had stolen a kingdom and built his power on a foundation of lies and blood. The ship landed at dawn, at a small cove on the southern coast of the island, far from the main port where Aldric's soldiers would be watching. Edward and the loyalists moved inland, following the paths that Catherine had shown them, paths known only to those who had served Edmund and his queen. Aldric did not run. That was the strangest part, Edward thought afterward—the way the usurper simply stood by his empty throne while his own guardsmen crossed the floor and took the sword from his hip with the same ceremony they had used to hand it to him eleven years before. His voice when he finally spoke was small for all its venom. Crowns lie too, boy. Yours will learn. Take him below, Edward said, and found that his own voice nearly failed him on the second word. Keep him whole. He answers for his crimes before this court, in daylight, with every house of the western isles as witness—not in a cellar with a knife. Old Lady Vane was the first to kneel, her joints cracking audibly as she went down on stone she had once polished for a different king. Then Lord Merrick, then Pell the customs master, then the rest in a rustle of wool and creaking leather, and Edward stood among them feeling less like a victor than like a man holding a rope he dared not let go of. Somewhere beyond the windows the diversion fires still burned at the far gate. He would have to answer for those too, someday. The Escape - Continued