De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (19 page)

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Rolfe's eyes were bloodshot, and they mirrored his frustration. He sat alone in the hall, as he had all night, after ordering everyone out. He had dozed. But his dreams had been nightmares of the worst sort.

Ceidre screaming, her back bare and bloody, while his man whipped her with his lash.Rolfe had screamed for a halt, yet the gory flogging had continued. He realized, as he shouted again, that he was opening his mouth, screaming as hard as he could-but no sound was being emitted. And then he woke up, sweating and trembling, to find himself sitting at the table in the hall where he had passed the entire night.

He could not do it.

He had to.

Rolferubbed his face and his eyes. He was a commander. His word was law. He controlled his men and the occupied territories because the threat of punishment for a breach or treason was real. His fist was iron; it had to be. He rarely showed mercy. His men rarely disobeyed. Traitors were whipped, if boys or women; male adults hanged. Harsher lessons were dealt in the more difficult territories, as just due to more serious instances of rebellion. At Kesop, the village had been razed for the villagers had harbored a dozen Saxon archers. 'Twas the declared policy. If a policy was declared, it must be the law, with no exceptions. Or

soon, very soon, there would be chaos and anarchy. He could not do it.

"My lord?"

Rolfehad not heardGuy enter. He gestured for him

to sit. "I cannot do it."

Guy, ever his closest man, understood. "She has

bewitched you from the first, my lord."

"Aye, that is true."

"My lord,"Guy said urgently, "there is not a soul in the village who does not know what she has done." "I know."

"Everyone waits to see what you will do."Rolfe smiled, without mirth. "You must punish her."

"If she were my wife,"Rolfe said, "I could lock her up and throw away the key and no one would object." "She is not your wife,"Guy said.

Rolfelaughed. He thought of his wife, asleep up

stairs, whom he had not even seen since yesterday

morning when the news of this treachery had been

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revealed. "Believe me," he said heavily, "I know well which dame is my wife and which is not." He stood.

"Bring her to the courtyard atnoon ."

Guywas also standing. "Yes, my lord." There was a

question in his eyes.

"'Twill be done,"Rolfe said grimly.

Ceidre heard the edict immediately. The village rippled with excitement-she was to be brought to the courtyard atnoon for the eaorl's punishment. Ceidre was sick. Rumor and speculation abounded. Would she be whipped, or hanged? Perhaps the lord, who had a hot eye for the witch, would do neither, but toss her into the dungeons for a day or two. This was a big event for Aelfgar, the first instance of the new lord's exercising of his power in discipline, for the most serious .offense there was-treason. Everyone was breathless with anticipation, wondering what he would do. Most thought it would be the worst, for the lord was a cold, hard man, and aNorman as well. Ceidre knew that they were right. She was losing what little control she had over her emotions.

She was shaking and ready to weep. She was deathly afraid. She had tested him too many times-and now she would hang. She prayed. She prayed toJesus , she prayed to the saints. She even prayed to a few old pagan gods she had never beseeched before. She prayed for the strength to bear her fate, to be brave and strong and die a martyr, not a coward. She was so terribly afraid she was going to weep and beg for mercy, clinging to his feet.

It was many hours tillnoon , and time was merciless, cruel, her pace slow and snide. Ceidre watched the sun -she could not bear its slow, inexorable ascent. And then a shadow fell across the straw at her feet, and Ceidre looked up, startled, for no one had dared to come this close all day. It wasAlice .

Alicesmiled meanly. "He is enraged, Ceidre. You have cost him a most valuable prisoner, and he will show no mercy."

Ceidre closed her eyes. By the gods, she did not need to hear this! Not now!

Alicehunched down. "You are going to die." Ceidre opened her eyes, her face amazingly calm. "I will bear whatever I have to."

Alicelaughed. "As if you have a choice!"

Thankfully,Alice turned and left. Once she had slipped outside, Ceidre hunched over, retching dryly.

Then she crouched panting. So it was true, she would hang-when deep inside, all along, she had clung to the faint hope that he would spare her life.

Then something miraculous began to happen.

She could feel her frightened heart begin to slow. The terrible, gut-wrenching fear quieted. The whole
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world quieted-the baaing of sheep, the laughter of villagers, the groaning wheel of a passing cart. She was no longer trembling. Her body felt heavy and lethargic; she had become utterly relaxed, as if given a potion to slow her senses. It was almost a feeling of serenity. The sun was not hot, it was warm. The earth was not cold, it was cool. The birdsong above mellowed, the yapping of the hounds dimmed. Only her vision remained sharp, in fact, the world became brighter, more focused. She no longer thought of what would occur. No images haunted her. Instead she sat back, her breathing steady, and waited for them to come for her. And there was peace.

AtnoonRolfe stepped out of the manor. He was not surprised that the entire village had turned out, he expected it. In fact, he had just sent Beltain andLouis to rouse anyone who had not come. All of Aelfgar would witness the price to be paid for treason.

His mouth was clamped in a hard, controlled line. His eyes were opaque and showed nothing. His face was expressionless, except for the extreme rigidity there. He stood unmoving on the manor steps. He tried to detach himself completely from any emotions whatsoever, a feat he had long managed with complete success. So far, so good. He could not be unaware of the fluttering of his heart, but he was in control of himself.

LadyAlicestood beside him, head high, her hand on his arm.

The villagers began to whisper excitedly, someone crying "Here they come!"

His stomach lurched.Rolfe clamped down harder on his jaw and watchedGuy and Ceidre approaching.

Her hands were still tied behind her back. Her dress was dusty and covered with straw. Her thick braid was scraggly, many strands escaping, and it hung over one breast. Her head was high, shoulders erect.

Her chin was in the air. As she came closer, he saw the mask of her expression-one of calm and dignity.

His heart lurched with an emotion so strong he was not sure if it was pride or something more.

Guybrought her to him. She turned her purple eyes upon him, Her chin had not lowered.Rolfe saw the utter calm in her gaze-the trust. His own heart tried to leap out of his chest, and he felt a trickle of perspiration begin to descend from his temple.Guy paused with Ceidre in front of him.

Rolfestared into her eyes. She was proud and serene on the brink of disaster. He could find no fear in her gaze, just acceptance. She was braver than most men, and he admired her greatly in that moment.

She would not let her people down by weeping and begging; she would not show him any weakness.

"Ceidre," he said, low. His tone was harsh with pain, yet intimate. He had not meant to address her in such a manner.

She smiled serenely, and then he saw the thinnest filming of tears. "I am ready," she said simply.

He wanted to take her into his embrace-and protect her. "You have committed treason,"Rolfe said quietly. "Ten lashes."

She blinked furiously, lucid cognition flashing in her gaze. Ten lashes! That bitch had lied! She would not hang, she would not die, and oh, she was so lucky, for she could survive this!

Rolfesaw her shock and relief. He himself was stunned, in that moment knowing she had been ready to accept a martyr's death, that she had thought her fate to be the hangman. He heard the sigh of relief
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rippling through the crowd. Beside him,Alice gasped. He did not care. He could not believe she had been so courageous just as he could not believe she knew him so little to think he would sentence her to death.

He wanted to laugh-without mirth. And he wanted to weep for what was to come, yet he had never shed a tear in his life.

"Ten lashes," he repeated, his voice husky and harsh. As anyone who had ever suffered the whip knew, ten lashes was plenty for the delicate skin of a woman. As it was, his heart was now beating frantically.

He must use all his strength, all his self-discipline, every reserve he had, or he would not make it through this ordeal. He was a scant instant from reversing his decision, and he knew it. He nodded abruptly toGuy .

Ceidre was led to a post and turned to face it, her back to the crowd.Guy ripped open her dress from shoulder to waist. Her back was long and elegant and graceful, her skin slightly tinged with gold.Rolfe realized he had ceased to breathe. "Louis," he barked, causing the man holding the whip to turn sharply.

"Ne rompe bas la peau, "Rolfe commanded harshly. Do not break her skin.

Louispaled.

Rolfewas sweating. He saw Ceidre stretched taut, unmoving. "Begin," he said.

The lash snaked through the air and sliced cleanly across Ceidre's back. She jerked but did not cry out.

Her skin did not break, but a fat red welt appeared.Rolfe clenched his fists, hard. Beside him,Alice made a sound, something that sounded impossibly like a snicker.Rolfe shot her a quick glance and saw that she was smiling. Furious, he hissed, "Restrain your pleasure, Lady!"

Again, Ceidre spasmed beneath the whip, andRolfe flinched as well, he who had never flinched in the face of physical hurt before. The whip fell again and again. It was not until the sixth lash that she made a sound, a small cry of anguish.Rolfe took one step off the stairs. The seventh and eighth lashes fell, and a streak of blood appeared among the crisscrossing of welts. Ceidre gasped and moaned, jerking hard against her ropes.Rolfe gripped the hitching post near him with all his strength. He could not remove his eyes from Ceidre, yet he was aware of his wife's guttural pleasure in her sister's pain. The final lash descended. Ceidre sagged, trembling, against the post.Rolfe moved.

He was at her side and cutting her free beforeLouis had even coiled his whip. He ignored the gasping of the crowd. The last three lashes had cut into her delicate skin, making him sicker than he already was.

Had he eaten this day, he would be throwing up. "Ceidre," he managed, supporting her with one arm around her waist.

"Don't touch me," she murmured, gasping, but she did not fight him.

Very gently he lifted her into his arms. ' Je le regrette, " he whispered.

She whimpered and clung, tightly, her face buried in his neck.

CHAPTER 6

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Rolfecarried her inside and up the stairs. His instinct was to carry her into his bedchamber, but reason returned, and he swept her into the solar and upon the bed that had beenAlice 's before the lady had become his wife. Ever so gently, he laid her down, upon her stomach.

Alicewas on his heels. "What are you doing?" she cried, pink-faced. "She must be put in the stocks, then the dungeons! You have already been too lenient-"

Rolfwhirled, enraged. "Your conduct is ungracious."

Alicefroze.

"Get to our chamber and think on what befits the lady of this manor."

Alice's eyes went wide. "You would confine me to our chamber?"

"Go now,"Rolfe roared. "Until I request your presence!"

Taking a deep breath,Alice turned and stalked out.

Rolfeclosed his eyes briefly, assailed with the image of his wife as Ceidre writhed in pain beneath the whip.Alice had enjoyed her sister's punishment, and the recollection was hideous. Then he moved, dropping to one knee. His hands ached to touch her, but Ceidre lifted her head to look at him, pain in her gaze-and hatred. "Get away from me," she hissed.

At the very least,Rolfe wanted to tuck back errant strands of hair away from her face. Her tone, and her hate, stopped him; his arms fell to his sides. He rose. "You will be tended to," he said, his tone hoarse even to his own ears. "And you are confined to this room." He wanted her close by, and comfortable, until she healed. And he would not question his own motives.

"What?" Ceidre was sarcastic, drippingly so. Then her voice broke. "You do not listen to your good wife, my sister? You do not toss me into the dungeons? Do you now, belatedly, show mercy?" To her horror, a fat tear escaped to roll slowly down her cheek.

Rolfehated himself too, so he could understand now how she felt. He watched the path of the tear, wishing he had the courage to reach out and erase it he who had never lacked courage before. His gaze moved to her back, swollen with welts, and the three long abrasions where, finally, the whip had broken her skin. She would be scarred. Because of him.

Her name was on his lips, and he could not prevent its escaping, low and harsh, urgent and agonized.

"Ceidre . . ."

She seared him with contempt and turned her face to the wall.

Rolfestudied her. There was nothing else for him to do but to leave, yet he was loath to. She was so pitiful now in her wounded state, yet so magnificent in her courage. He turned away.

Only when he had closed the door behind him did Ceidre begin to weep.

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