“Honorable!” Rufus repeated, in derision.
“Silence, sir!” Charles commanded. “Who are you?” he asked of Evander. Evander saluted.
“Captain Evander Cloud, of the Parliamentary army.”
“How come you here?” the King inquired.
Brilliana answered for him.
“Your Majesty, he was taken prisoner treacherously, though the treachery was mine, three days ago. I offered his life in exchange for the life of Randolph Harby.”
“And Randolph Harby is dead,” said Rufus, “shot as a spy by the devilish rebel of Cambridge. See, sire—see!”
He offered the letter to Charles, but the King put it from him. His face was inscrutable as Evander urged his case.
“Your Majesty, I am no spy, and my life could not be pawned for a spy’s life.”
Charles’s sad eyes travelled to Brilliana.