by Jody Hedlund
I lifted my eyes to him. He was staring with opened mouth at my purple skin. A ripple of emotions played across his face, first surprise, then hurt. Finally, he closed his eyes, but not before I caught a glimpse of the revulsion there, the kind of look that said he couldn’t stand viewing it, that he needed to block it out, that the very sight of it sickened him.
Sudden, hot tears stung my eyes. The coil around my chest tightened until my lungs burned. I had to lower my head before anyone noticed that I was near to crying. I could bear the shame of knowing I wasn’t worthy in the sight of everyone else, but I’d wanted Bennet to be different, even though deep down I’d suspected he wouldn’t be.
“I told you she was a witch,” Captain Foxe shouted above the clamoring. “She’s a witch, and her silver is cursed.”
The resilient woman inside of me demanded that I fight back, stand up for myself like I usually did, and prove that I was just as human as anyone of them there. But my heart was breaking, and that broken-hearted woman couldn’t utter a word. I could only hang my head, unwilling to look at Bennet and see his disappointment and loathing again.
“The only way to release the curse is to set her and her silver afire at the stake,” Captain Foxe continued. “Fire purifies. Whatever burns up is of hell. Whatever remains is not.”
“Burn her at the stake!” cried several more men. Before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged off my horse. I was shoved roughly to my knees, and my hands bound behind me.
“No!” Above the clamor, I could faintly hear a protest. But someone knocked me in the head with such force that my ears rang and I was overcome with dizziness. I felt someone dragging me through the slough of mud, almost ruthlessly, so that my arms twisted. At the burning pain, a cry escaped from my lips.
“Release her!” This time the command rose above the shouts and calls. Through the dizzying pain and the confusion of legs surrounding me, I glimpsed both Aldric and Bennet with swords unsheathed.
“She’s not yours to punish,” came the voice again, the one I recognized as belonging to Aldric. Was Bennet too ashamed of me to speak in my defense?
I lowered my head. A knot of my hair slipped loose and spilled over my face.
“She’s ours,” Aldric spoke again, “and we demand that you release her back to us.” His voice contained the authority that I’d expect of the master of the land. He was stepping up into his God-given role at a time when it was most needed. Perhaps he’d failed this past year, but no one could fault him now.
“You have no right to her,” Bennet called out. I was relieved that he was defending me at last, that he had enough kindness in his heart that he wouldn’t let strange men drag me off and burn me at the stake without rising to my defense. Nevertheless, I’d seen the revulsion in his eyes, and I knew he wasn’t defending me out of love. He was doing it out of honor.
All along, he’d acted honorably. Everything he did was out of honor. And while I couldn’t deny I was grateful for his strong sense of integrity at this moment, I couldn’t ignore the pieces of my heart that were broken into a thousand painful shards. I’d wanted love along with his honor.
The grip on my bound arms loosened, and I sank to the wet grass and the mud. Above and around me I could hear the strained conversation between Lord Pitt, Aldric, and Bennet. It went on for some time, until someone wrenched me back to my feet.
“She’ll stand trial on the morrow,” Lord Pitt said, his voice ringing with finality. “If she passes the test, then you may have her back, and we’ll take her silver.”
“You don’t need her silver,” Bennet called. “We’ll sell our lands and give you the silver from the sale. We’ll sell our relics and art and you can have the profits.” His voice was strangled.
I hung my head, letting my hair fall in my face, too ashamed to meet Bennet’s gaze as he once again did the honorable thing by trying to rescue me. I knew how much the relics and art meant, how resistant he’d been to selling them, how much this offer had likely cost him.
“If she’s a witch, then everything she’s touched is cursed,” Lord Pitt said almost derisively. “Including your land and each relic upon it.”
“She’s not a witch!” Bennet shouted. But not even the desperation that laced his voice could move me.
The arguing and shouting resumed for several more minutes, until finally one thought consumed me. If I agreed to let them burn me at the stake, my silver would survive the flames. Lord Pitt would take it. And Maidstone would be free. I had the power to save Maidstone—and to preserve the treasure of art and relics inside.
Besides, now that I knew how Bennet really felt about me—that my flaw repulsed him—I never wanted to face him again. Death would ensure that. It would also ensure that I never had to face such painful rejection again.
“I’ll stand trial,” I said.
The arguing continued, only growing louder. I had the feeling that before too long, Bennet would start using force to secure my release. His sword was already drawn and ready.
“I’ll stand trial on the morrow,” I shouted.
The din faded away. Once again, I could feel all eyes upon me, wary, angry, accusing. I lifted my chin. “Put me on trial. And we’ll leave the results in God’s hands.”
A chorus of ayes rippled around me, followed rapidly by Bennet’s and Aldric’s protests.
“Hang her in the cage for the night,” Captain Foxe shouted. His suggestion was met with an even louder cry of agreement. Before I could say any more, I was shoved forward toward a grizzly sight.
There, at the edge of the enemy camp, was a metal cage tied to the high branch of a lone oak tree. It was a larger, cruder version of Stephan’s little birdcage, tall enough for a full-grown man to sit, but not stand. Inside was the decaying body of a dead man. His flesh was half gone, likely pecked away by vultures and other birds of prey.
One of the soldiers was already climbing the tree and making his way toward the chain that would lower the cage. I was tempted to yank free of my captor and try to flee to Bennet. But I was surrounded by too many enemy soldiers and wouldn’t be able to make it past them. Besides, I couldn’t run now. If my death could not only save Grandmother and countless others within the castle walls, but also keep Bennet’s collection of treasures intact, then I had to make the sacrifice.
When the cage hit the ground, several soldiers made quick work of tossing out the remains of the last prisoner. Captain Foxe shoved me roughly forward. “Get in the cage, witch.”
On the edges of the gathering, Bennet’s hoarse calls rose above the gathering of soldiers who’d come out of their tents and away from their campfires to see me, the witch. There was nothing Bennet could do now to save me. He’d be a fool to attempt to win my release by force. He was vastly outnumbered and would only find himself and his men rapidly cut down if he tried anything.
I shrugged off Captain Foxe’s hand and walked of my own volition the final distance to the cage. The rotten stench from the decay of the previous victim swelled with each step, and as I crawled inside the square door, I had to breathe through my mouth in order to keep from gagging. The metal bars were caked with dried blood and what appeared to be the remains of human flesh, so I scrambled to the opposite side from where the dead man had been, hoping it was cleaner.
The iron grate slammed behind me, reverberating through the cage and into my body. The lock clicked into place, and the soldier in the tree began to heave the contraption upward. I grabbed onto the rusted metal bars as my prison swayed back and forth with each jerk of the chain. The bars jamming into my body were hard against my thin body and already uncomfortable.
Frightened eyes stared up at me, at the purplish stain on my arm that would now be visible to them all. I couldn’t hide it any longer.
“We’ll have the trial tomorrow.” Lord Pitt’s voice rose over the others. “Until then, she remains here. Or else . . .” He didn’t have to say the words for them to ring in the air. He’d kill anyone who defied him, incl
uding Bennet, Aldric, or anyone they might send.
The cage swung higher so that I was well above the men, almost near the top of the tree. I was at a frightening height. Sunlight pierced through the new growth of leaves and hit parts of the cage. At least I could be grateful that I wasn’t in full sunlight, where I’d easily bake and grow thirsty in the heat of the day. Although perhaps dying from thirst was preferable to being burned alive.
As my prison came to a standstill, I clutched the bars and tried to still my trembling limbs. I couldn’t stop myself from seeking out Bennet on the fringes of the crowd. His tall, proud stature and broad shoulders were always easy to locate. He was surrounded by the soldiers who had accompanied us out of Maidstone. Half a dozen of them, including Aldric, were gripping him by his arms, legs, and torso, holding him back.
He strained against them, his muscles pulled taut, his face a mask of anger and desperation.
Against my will, my eyes connected with his. The tortured anguish there was almost my undoing. Even if he still cared for me as a friend, even if he didn’t believe I was a witch, I’d seen his response to my blemish, and it had hurt me beyond repair. For so many years, I’d hidden behind my gloves and my art and my books. Maybe I’d even acted eccentric to hold people at bay. But I’d done it for this very reason: so that I wouldn’t have to worry about their reactions.
Now that I’d experienced the rejection of someone I’d grown to care about, I realized it hurt worse than I’d ever imagined, even worse than my father’s rejection. My entire body pulsed with the pain. It was bound to kill me if the flames didn’t do the job first.
“I will find a way to save you!” he yelled as he wrenched against the men holding him.
I shook my head. I’d been a fool. I should have guarded my heart better.
“I will!” He lunged harder, causing the men around him to grunt in their efforts to restrain him.
The remaining pieces of my heart betrayed me and swelled with all the love I still had for him. I couldn’t deny the truth. Even though he’d wounded me, I still loved him and probably would even after I stepped through the celestial gates.
I reached my hands up to the blue pearls that still surrounded my neck. My shaking fingers found the clasp, and after several moments, the necklace slid away. I bunched it in my hand and held it out. “Lord Windsor,” I called to Aldric.
He spun to look up at me. His face was flushed and sweating from his efforts to restrain his brother. Even so, Aldric was placid. Only his eyes gave away the torture he too was experiencing. “My lady?”
“Would you give something to Sir Bennet?”
Aldric glanced at Lord Pitt, who was in the process of assigning guards to watch the perimeter of the camp. Many men had already begun to disperse. Others were standing a distance away, as if they feared what might happen if they came too close.
With a sharp command to his men not to release Bennet, Aldric started toward me. Lord Pitt’s guards standing beneath the tree stopped him with the points of their swords.
“I only wish to give him something,” I called to the guards.
Reluctantly, without dropping their swords, they let Aldric approach until he stood directly beneath me. I slipped my hand through the bars near my feet and released the blue pearls. They dropped swiftly into the grass in front of his boots. He bent and swooped them up and stuffed them in the pouch at his side.
He looked up at me again and nodded solemnly, as if he understood that this was my good-bye to Bennet.
“Take care of him,” I said softly.
“I will, my lady.” From the sadness in his eyes, I could see that once again he realized what I was asking. I wanted him to make sure that Bennet survived, that he didn’t fall into the same pit of despair that Aldric had after his wife’s death. Guilt could do that to a person, especially to men as sensitive and kind as Bennet and Aldric. I didn’t want Bennet to wallow over me or blame himself for my death. I prayed that Aldric would be able to help his brother in a way he hadn’t been able to help himself.
A sudden prick of tears clouded my vision. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to hold back the emotion that begged for release. One thought thrummed through my head over and over. I loved him. I would die loving him. And I would live through eternity loving him.
An anguished “No!” ripped through the air. It was Bennet’s protest. I had no doubt that Aldric had just given him the pearls and that he too realized I’d told him good-bye.
I squeezed my eyes tighter. I couldn’t bear to look at him again. Even when his calls of protest grew hoarser and fainter, I didn’t open my eyes. Even after my ears told me Aldric had finally dragged Bennet back across the field, I still didn’t open my eyes. Instead, I buried my face into my hands and let silent sobs find release.
Chapter
17
I COULDN’T LIFT MY CHIN OFF MY CHEST. I’D FOUGHT through the long night against the ropes binding me, until I’d eventually exhausted myself beyond endurance. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer or even hold my head up.
Only one thought kept me awake and sane: the thought that I would kill Aldric the second he finally cut me loose.
He’d left me alone in the windowless buttery, my hands and arms tied to the post at the center of the room. In the end, he’d needed at least eight men to drag me into the empty closet and hold me while he’d bound me. He’d posted several soldiers outside the door, and they’d checked on me throughout the night.
“Sabine,” I whispered hoarsely through darkness that was broken only by the sliver of torchlight coming in from the hallway. The merest thought of her brought a dagger of pain back. It slammed into my flesh and pierced all the way to my bones. But I didn’t fight it, because the pain was the punishment I deserved for what I’d done to her.
I held myself utterly responsible for everything. I’d replayed the afternoon in my head hundreds of times, each time counting my mistakes. I shouldn’t have agreed to let her accompany me to the meeting with Lord Pitt. I should have taken Mother as I’d first planned. And then once Foxe had accused Sabine of being a witch, I shouldn’t have let her take off her glove. I should have known there was a reason why she’d always left them in place, that it was because she was hiding something. Why hadn’t I discovered that sooner?
I groaned and wrenched on the ropes binding my hands. My skin was rubbed raw, and I could feel the warm stickiness of blood running down my fingers from my wrists, but the sting once again only served to remind me of all the pain I’d caused Sabine.
I wanted at the very least to reach her pearls, which were in the pouch tied to my belt. I needed to run my fingers over them and in touching them perhaps feel her presence. But I was bound too tightly.
“Oh, God.” I tried to pray through my aching throat, but my voice choked on the bile that rose every time I thought about the sadness in Sabine’s eyes when she’d looked at me right after she’d taken off her glove.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by the glaring mark on her skin. But I hadn’t been able to stop my reaction. Worse, I’d even found myself slightly disgusted by it, if only for a minute.
But it had been one minute too long. That’s all the time it had taken to hurt her. She’d looked to me for acceptance, for unconditional approval, for the hope that I’d still appreciate her even though she had stained skin.
And what had I done? Had I accepted, approved, and appreciated her regardless? No. I’d looked away. In doing so, I’d spurned her. I’d seen the misery radiating from her, the crestfallen expression, the resignation that had transformed her vibrant eyes into lifeless orbs.
“What have I done?” I moaned, wishing desperately I could go back in time and change my reaction. After the initial shock had worn away, I’d easily seen past those purple blotches to the woman I’d come to know. I realized that I didn’t care one bit about the color of her skin. I didn’t care that she was stained on the outside, because the woman I’d come to know was beautiful regardles
s of a splotch on her arm.
After Lord Pitt had allowed his men to roughly pull her from her horse, I’d known without doubt that she mattered much more to me than everything I held dear. I realized in one single agonizing moment that I’d give up every piece of my prized art collection to have her. None of it mattered compared to her. I would have offered my life for hers if I’d thought it would help. But Lord Pitt had no intention of substituting my life for someone he believed to be a witch. If Aldric hadn’t held me back, Lord Pitt and his men would have been lying in their own blood.
I spit onto the straw-covered floor, wishing it was Aldric’s face. I could have cut down the men surrounding Sabine. I could have rescued her. Didn’t he know I was the best swordsman in the land? I hadn’t trained with the duke all those years for nothing.
“I’ll kill you, Aldric!” I shouted again, as I had before. Silence had met all my threats throughout the night, so I was unprepared for the quick response.
“I’m not your enemy,” he said.
I lifted my head and strained against my binding, ready to bury my fists in his gut. “Let me go. Now.”
He stood two feet away, his arms folded across his chest. “I won’t let you go unless you promise not to do anything stupid.”
“And how can you rebuke me for being stupid?” Fury churned in my chest. “Not when you’ve been the king of fools this past year. You have no right to stop me.”
Aldric flinched, and I knew I’d leveled a low blow, but I was too upset to care. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” he admitted. “It seems we Windsor men are quite skilled at making them.”
Now it was his turn to administer a verbal blow. He’d seen me disdain Sabine in that moment. He likely knew about my other mistakes with her over the past month too. Or at the very least, he was good at reading my guilt.