Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (10 page)

Kaelan!"

“De Viennes started it!” Kaelan shouted back. He flung his hand to the two burly servants who had

dragged him off his enemy. “And I'd have finished it if your two lickspittles hadn't jumped me!"

“Enough!” his brother, the Jarl, thundered. “You're lucky I don't have you thrown into the dungeon for

disobeying me again, Kaelan!"

“Try it!” came the mutinous reply.

Duncan threw up his hands. “There's no reasoning with you, man!” He flung himself down upon his

throne chair and glared at his brother. “What you need is a wife to keep you too busy to pick fights with

honest men."

“Honest?” Kaelan bellowed. “Rolf de Viennes is a fucking horse thief, among other things!"

“Say that word again and I'll have you whipped,” Duncan warned him. He knew his brother understood

it hadn't been the vulgarity he had objected to; calling a man a horse thief was dangerous business.

Kaelan spun around and started to leave, his shoulders hunched, fists clenched. Then Jarl's words

registered though he didn't stop as they were thrown at him:

“Stay away from Rolf or I promise you, Kaelan, I'll lay the whip to your stubborn hide myself!"

The servants scattered as Prince Kaelan stormed out of the Great Hall. They'd seen that look on the

young man's face before-two months earlier-and cared not to see it again. All hell had broken loose that

day and no one had been safe from royal wrath.

“ROLF DE VIENNES!"

Those gathered at the training grounds stopped what they were doing and stared at the enraged young

man heading toward Duke de Viennes. It was the look on Kaelan Hesar's face that made men much

older and bigger than he move out of his way.

The Master-at-Arms of Tempest Keep dropped the sword he'd been using to instruct a novice and

turned his troubled gaze from the advancing prince to the smirking nobleman who lounged beside the

water trough; the Master-at-Arms knew there was going to be trouble; he wondered briefly if he should

intervene, but thought better of it when he saw the murderous glint that shone in Hesar's eye.

“I WANT A WORD WITH YOU, DE VIENNES!” the prince bellowed.

“You don't need to shout, Your Grace,” de Viennes sneered dryly. “I, along with the rest of the Keep,

can hear you."

“Then, they'll be able to hear me call you a lecherous woman molester, won't they?” came the snarl that

was only slightly less loud than the bellow had been.

Shocked gasps ran through the assembled men. One man turned and ran for the Keep; another was

foolish enough to dare to step between Kaelan and his objective. “Milord, you know you can not,” he

began, only to be knocked aside like a leaf in the wind. The poor man went sprawling among a group of

others, knocking them down, as well.

Rolf de Viennes drew himself up, his hand going to the dagger at his hip. “Who dares to tell such lies of

me to you, Prince Kaelan?” he demanded.

“It is no lie!” Kaelan flung at him. “The lady tells the truth."

“She lies,” de Viennes began. “I would not...” He got no further for the wind was knocked from him as

Kaelan Hesar plowed headfirst into his belly, sending them both flying over the water trough.

The fight was savage; the hits loud and telling. No one dared interfere for Kaelan Hesar was of the royal

family and not one man there could lift a hand to him without the Jarl's permission. Had it not been for

one man's quick thinking-going after Duncan to stop what was sure to come-Kaelan might well have

killed Rolf de Viennes that afternoon. It took three men to subdue the enraged prince, another two to

hold him to keep him away from Rolf.

“WHO STARTED THIS?” Duncan shouted. Fighting among the warriors was strictly forbidden at the

Keep, barely tolerated on the training ground. It was a punishable offense.

“He attacked me!” de Viennes hissed, spitting blood and part of a front tooth away. He wiped the back

of his hand across his mouth. “Some slut told him I had abused her."

“GILLIAN IS NOT A SLUT!” Kaelan screamed in rage.

Nicholas and Ruan Cree looked at one another. Both men stepped forward. “Our sister accuses this

man?” Ruan asked.

“Aye!” Kaelan spat. “She said he'd been pestering her!"

“Oh, for the love of Alel!” Rolf de Viennes laughed. Despite the pain in his face and belly, he doubled

over with laughter. “I was but complimenting the silly chit!"

Kaelan opened his mouth to challenge the man, but Duncan slapped a hand over his lips. He turned to

de Viennes. “I'll have your side of it and stop that braying! You sound like a Diabolusian jackass.” He

ignored the muted shouts behind the hand he had clamped over his brother's mouth.

De Viennes sobered, shaking his head as though vastly amused. “'Tis true I've been pestering the girl,

but not like he thinks!"

“Pestering her is pestering her!” Ruan snapped.

“Your sister is of an age to be wooed, is she not, Lord Cree?” de Viennes chuckled. “I've been

attempting to woo the girl!” He held up his hands in all innocence. “I swear before the entire Pantheon, I

have not tried anything indecent with the girl and have no intention of doing so."

Kaelan was furiously trying to free his mouth, but Duncan's hand was clapped firmly across it.

“I wondered why she was immune to my advances,” Rolf drawled. “Have you been courting that child?”

He removed his hand.

“She's not a child!” Kaelan spat at him. “And if she says de Viennes was pestering her, he was!"

“Stop belaboring the point, Kaelan,” Duncan commanded. “I'll hear no more tales of what the child

thought. She obviously has no concept of what pestering truly means."

Kaelan shook his head furiously. “She knows full well. She..."

“I SAID TO STOP IT!” It was the Jarl, not Kaelan's brother who spoke. He took Kaelan's chin in his

hand. “I asked if you'd been courting the girl, Kaelan. That is all I need to know!"

A flash of worry came over Kaelan's face. He was twenty-six, ten years Gillian's senior. Rolf was

nineteen and more apt to receive permission to court her than he was.

“Answer me!” Duncan snapped.

“We've an understanding,” Kaelan said, not liking the way his brother's stare flared with triumph.

“An understanding?” Duncan questioned. “What kind of understanding would that be?"

Kaelan swallowed. He looked at Gillian's brothers but saw no encouragement there. No doubt they

thought him too old for the girl, too. He looked back at his brother. “That I will seek permission to court

her when she's of age."

Duncan shut his eyes in annoyance and when he opened them, he stared at Kaelan for a long, silent

moment as his jaw clenched and unclenched. At last, he turned to de Viennes. “He was defending the

lady's honor as he saw it."

Rolf de Viennes nodded, smiling. He could afford to be magnanimous; he knew what was coming. “I

can certainly understand that, Your Grace. I have no quarrel with his motives."

“Nevertheless, such gallantry does not excuse his blatant breaking of our rules,” Duncan declared.

Whispers ran through those assembled; knowing looks met other knowing looks and heads bobbed.

“Remember what happened to Kurt Sobern?” Ruan asked his brother quietly.

Nick glanced at Ruan. “Nah!” he drawled in denial. At Ruan's silent nod, Nick turned back to the man

being held.

The Jarl was shaking his head in disgust. “I've no choice, Kaelan,” he said. He looked toward the

Master-at-Arms. “Sir Nellis?"

Frederick Nellis had known all along what would happen as soon as the Jarl found out about the fight.

He should have stopped the thing from ever beginning, but it was too late now. He nodded his

acceptance of what his Jarl sought and headed for the training room.

“Duncan,” Kaelan said, trying to shake off the men holding him. “The bastard is lying. He made

improper advances to her else she would not have mentioned it to me."

The Jarl held up a staying hand. “That matter is settled. ’Tis the fighting that is the issue now. You knew

better."

Nick Cree would remember that day for as long as he lived. He'd never seen a man whipped before and

would never have dreamed he'd ever see royal flesh seared by the lash. Even as the men holding Kaelan

Hesar walked him to a thick oak tree and tied the young man to it, could Nick believe he was actually

going to witness such a thing. The ripping of the prince's shirt-exposing a broad, tanned back-set Cree's

teeth on edge even before the Master-at-Arms stepped back, unraveled the whip and let the first lash fly.

The prescribed punishment for fighting was ten lashes. Kaelan Hesar took every one of them without

ever uttering a word. By the time they cut him down, his back and shoulders were criss-crossed with

raw, red welts-some dripping blood onto his cords. Men stood silently watching the young prince shrug

painfully out of his torn shirt and throw it away, wincing as they saw the agony such an action caused the

young man.

“If you're expecting an apology from me, Duncan,” they heard him tell the Jarl, “you'll not get it."

Duncan nodded. “I expected nothing from you, little brother.” He pointed toward the Keep. “Leave us

and go to your room. You will stay there until I decide you may leave. And I'm warning you, Kaelan:

disobey the rules again and I'll tack on another ten lashes if I have to have you whipped again, is that

clear?"

Kaelan ground his teeth. “Perfectly!"

* * * *

News of Kaelan's punishment spread like wildfire throughout the Keep. Everyone knew he was in his

room; the Jarl had sent the Healer to see to his brother's back. And just as the inhabitants of the Keep

knew of the fight, they knew well the reason behind it.

Eyes followed Gillian and her sisters and sister-in-law as the four women tried to gain audience with the

Jarl. That they were denied was telling. But their stepmother was, miraculously, granted permission to

speak with the great man. While the younger women waited outside the doors of the Great Hall, Duke

Dakin Cree was in route to Prince Kaelan's chambers.

“He can not have visitors, Your Grace,” the guard Duncan had posted outside Kaelan's door informed

the Chalean Ambassador.

“Might I inquire why he can not?” Dakin asked, his concern showing on his florid face. The man had

defended his most precious of daughters and had paid a dear price for having done so. The least he

could do was to thank him.

“The Jarl's orders, Your Grace,” the guard apologized.

Dakin nodded, turning away, then stopped. He looked back at the guard. “Between you and me, sir: do

you believe Duke de Viennes’ version or the prince's?"

The guard never blinked. “I believe Prince Kaelan, milord."

Duke Cree smiled. “So do I. Will you tell him as much?"

“Aye, milord!” the guard agreed.

* * * *

“Something should have been done long ago,” Gillian's stepmother reminded her lover.

“I know,” Duncan sighed. He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “You did what you could; the fault

lies with that silly twit of a brother of mine!"

Elga smiled. Aye, she thought, it does. She'd talked to Gillian, telling the girl Kaelan was far too old for

her, hinting at a better betrothal, but the girl had merely stood there and listened politely, never once

taking the lecture to heart. Elga knew she wouldn't. The fault lay with Kaelan Hesar; not an

impressionable teenage girl.

“You realize the entire Keep will be behind him in this folly, now,” Elga hinted. She cocked her head to

one side as he turned to stare at her. “The man sacrificed flesh and blood for his maiden, Duncan."

The Jarl groaned. “I'd not thought of it in that light.” He resumed his pacing, thrusting his nervous fingers

through his thinning hair. “But a woman surely would."

“Of course, there is a way out of this,” Elga said slyly.

Duncan stopped his pacing. “There is?” he asked, hurrying to her. “What?"

Elga tapped her fingernail against the pearly white surface of her front teeth. “Did you not tell me the

Depository was low on funds due to the floods this past summer?"

“Aye,” Duncan drawled. “What of it?"

“And since the only way you have to replace those used funds that were needed to help the farmers is

with a good bride price for Kaelan's hand in Joining...” She paused, smiling.

“That's not the only way...” Duncan stopped. He saw her line of thinking. “A good bride price,” he

whispered.

“From a wealthy family willing to overlook a young man's momentary lapse of good judgment in courting

a child half his age."

Duncan drew her down onto the settee with him. “Have you such a family in mind?” His smile was

predatory.

Gillian's stepmother smiled. “There are several, my love,” she answered.

The Jarl's smile slowly faded to be replaced with a fierce scowl. “But how are we going to make Kaelan

ask for another woman's hand?"

“We don't need to,” she replied.

“But I don't see how we can make him do what he is not inclined to do, Elga.” Duncan's face showed

his confusion.

“As Jarl,” Elga said in a voice like that of a parent to a small child, “you need only issue a royal edict.

Kaelan dare not refuse. He may be your brother, but he is also your subject. And as such, he is subject

to your wishes, is he not? If he disobeys, you can send him to prison, can you not?"

“Aye, but I never would.” He smiled nastily. “But Kaelan doesn't know that, does he?"

“Then it is settled,” Elga said, standing up.