WindWarrior

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Else I'll have you stripped to the waist and your back bared to the whipman!” he threatened. “Or mayhap it should be your tits he lays his lash to!"

  "How dare you speak to her in such a fashion, Deklyn!” Ynez protested but he jerked her hard enough to snap her teeth together then dragged her behind him as he exited the room. When she would have spoken again, he yelled at her to keep her mouth shut if she wanted to keep all her teeth.

  Suddenly afraid of her husband for the first time in her life, Ynez decided provoking him in his present state of arousal would not be wise. She clamped her lips tightly shut and stumbled along behind him as he propelled her toward the library.

  "Tell Delaney to get his ass in here,” Dek shouted at Guy who was standing with his mouth open. “Now, Yn Baase!"

  "Aye!” Guy acknowledged and ran for the lawyer.

  Shoving open the library door, Dek swung Ynez into the room then sent her careening onto the damask-clad settee beside the unlit fireplace. She hit the seat with so much force it wobbled on its legs.

  "How dare you?” Dek snarled as he slammed the door to the library shut and advanced on his wife—who was cowering against the far side of the settee at his approach. “By the gods I knew you were an evil bitch, but I didn't know you were insane to boot!"

  Ynez lifted her chin. From the threat he'd made to Miriam, she had surmised what had set him off. Without doubt he knew about the servant she had lashed. “I do not punish the servants unless they deserve it."

  He leaned over her with one hand on the back of the settee and the other on the arm—effectively pinning her in. “And just what the fuck had she done to warrant being cut across the breasts, Ynez?” he asked.

  "She sassed me,” Ynez replied.

  His face became a lethal mask. “You lying bitch. I know better. That girl would never have dared sass you. She's afraid of her own shadow."

  "You're never here to know what these slovenly peasants do,” she hissed. “It is left to me to chastise them when they...."

  He lowered his voice to a near whisper but the volume only made it that much more terrifying when he spoke. “I have a castellan to handle such matters as they arise. If you have a problem with one of my servants, you go to him with it. You so much as lift a hand to another of my people and before the gods, Ynez, I swear to you, I'll dole out the exact same punishment you ordered, or you dealt to one of mine to that spindly cuntlicker you keep to warm your bed.” He lowered his face to hers—his green eyes tracking back and forth between hers. His jaw was set, lips pulled back from clenched teeth, and brows slanted together. “Do you hear what I am saying to you, you crazy bitch?” A light knock on the door was ignored as he asked again.

  "Your precious Delaney is here,” she snarled at him.

  "Do. You. Hear. What. I. Am. Saying. To. You. You crazy bitch?” he repeated, punctuating the words forcefully.

  "Aye, Deklyn,” she hissed. “I heard you."

  "If you think I don't mean it, that I'm not serious, I will disabuse you of that notion soon enough,” he said, pushing away from her and yelling for Delaney to enter.

  The lawyer was pale as he came through the door. He'd been hastily apprised of what had transpired in the kitchen and was relieved to see his overlaird had not beaten the Baroness—though it was well within the Baron's rights to do so.

  "Do you have those papers finished?” Dek asked, referring to the deeds he had ordered copied.

  "Aye, Your Grace,” Delaney said. “I brought them with me."

  "Then close the door and take a seat,” Dek ordered. “This won't take long."

  Delaney hastened to do as he was commanded, perching nervously on the edge of his seat where he sat with his briefcase clutched protectively to his chest. He shot a quick glance to the Baroness, who was glaring at him, swallowed loudly, and then directed his attention to his overlaird.

  "What does the contract say about the conditions for the dissolution of this farce of a marriage?” Dek asked.

  "We know what it says, Deklyn,” Ynez said with a roll of her eyes.

  Dek slowly turned his head to her. He was standing at the fireplace with his forearm braced on the mantle, his other hand jammed to his hip. “When I want you to speak, I'll pull your string. Until then, keep your mouth shut, or I'll hit you hard enough to break your fucking jaw!"

  Ynez's nostrils flared but she refrained from making the comment that was no doubt hovering on her tongue.

  "What does the contract say, Delaney?” Dek asked again.

  The lawyer swallowed again before speaking. “It says if no issue has been forthcoming by the anniversary of the tenth year, the marriage may be set aside as null and void."

  "And how much longer until the anniversary of that tenth year?"

  Since he had been asked to calculate, Delaney had the answer at hand. “One year, six months, and twenty days, Your Grace."

  "One year, six months, and twenty days,” Dek repeated.

  "Correct,” Delaney said, putting up a hand to run around the front of his collar.

  "What of the disbursement of the lands brought into the marriage?” Dek inquired.

  Ynez sat up straighter. She opened her mouth to remind him the lands were hers but the look he gave her stopped her cold.

  "Since the contract expressly states the obligation of conceiving a child from the union is the direct responsibility of the female, in the absence of producing said child, the lands are to be handed over to the Tarryn treasury as compensation for there being no heir brought forth."

  "Which means she loses all control and ownership of said property,” Dek wanted clarified.

  Delaney nodded. He shot out his leg and took a handkerchief from his pocket to blot the sweat from his face. His hand was trembling as he applied the fabric.

  "And no heir has been brought forth,” Dek stated.

  "No, Your Grace,” Delaney replied.

  "Those lands are mine!” Ynez said, no longer able to control the anger pushing at her throat. “They have been in my family for generations!"

  "And you can have the gods-be-damned land,” Dek shouted at her. “I've no need or use for it, and before you spout off again, I have ordered Delaney to go to the treasury to get an accurate accounting of the revenues generated from the use of those lands since the day of our marriage. On the day this sick farce ends, you will be given those monies and the titles to those lands—free and clear. All I ask is that you stay the hell out of my sight, whenever I am forced to be here."

  There had been a time when hearing those words would have made Ynez's heart sing. Now, they were bitter ashes in her mouth, a death knell to her ear. She gathered courage from knowing what she stood to lose if the marriage was dissolved. She lifted her chin.

  "You are conveniently forgetting the other requirement stipulated within the contract, husband,” Ynez said, the stressing of his title like a bad taste she was spitting out of her mouth. “The one requirement neither of us can legally ignore and one to which we must adhere whether it is to our liking or not. One you have been lax in upholding."

  Delaney looked up at his overlaird. The Baron was frowning, seemingly searching his memory for which requirement it was of which his wife was speaking. He cleared his throat, drawing Deklyn's attention. “I believe the Baroness is referring to the Seeding Clause, Your Grace."

  Dek's frown deepened then his face lost all expression—the flesh smoothing along cheekbones and forehead as realization set in. His eyes narrowed as he looked to his wife. “What of it?"

  "What does the contract say of how often the Seeding must be done, lawgiver?” Ynez queried.

  Delaney coughed before answering. “Ah, once a month, Your Grace,” he replied.

  "What of it, Ynez?” Dek asked again.

  Instead of answering him, Ynez looked to the lawyer. “Since you seem to have your remaining days of our contract noted, tell me, lawgiver. How many instances of Seeding remain in that one year, six months, twenty day timetable?"

/>   The lawyer winced, looking to his overlaird for guidance. “Your Grace?” he questioned.

  "Come now! Can you not figure that in your head, lawgiver?” Ynez challenged. “I surely can. I know you will correct me if I am wrong when my tally comes to nineteen."

  It was Deklyn's turn to wince. Going to the shrew's bed nineteen more times to hump her stiff, unyielding, unresponsive body would be sheer hell knowing that only ten miles away the woman he loved would be waiting for him.

  "And since you have seen fit to keep yourself from that portion of the contract by hiding in Geddyn...."

  "Hiding in Geddyn?” Dek roared. “You know full well we are at war, madam! I was with my troops fighting that war!"

  "Needless on your part, Baron Yn Baase,” Ynez reminded him. “Your troops were needed there, aye, but not so you."

  "I am their commander. Where they go, I go!” he snapped at her.

  "That does not negate the responsibility with which you as husband were charged in the Seeding Clause of the contract,” she stated. “As I calculate it, you were gone roughly two years which means you missed twenty-four instances of Seeding.” Her smile was nasty as she watched the color drain from his handsome face. “But let's make it a round number at twenty and call it even."

  "Thirty-nine times?” he questioned—voice filled with shock. “You expect me to ... to.... “He couldn't say it and even thinking it was making him ill.

  "I expect you to come to my bed thirty-nine times between now and the tenth anniversary of this sick farce, as you call it,” she said. “That is in the contract, and you are required, by law, to adhere to the letter of that contract."

  "Why are you doing this?” he demanded, pain registering in his changed eyes. “You've never wanted me in your bed!"

  "True and I don't want you there, now, but you will uphold your part of the contract or that contract will not be met to the letter of the law,” she said then turned a smug expression to the lawyer. “Am I not right in this, lawgiver? If the exact letter of the law written within that contract is not fulfilled, the marriage cannot—and will not—be dissolved. Is that not the way of it?"

  Dek turned a horrified look to his lawyer, his friend—hoping Delaney would deny Ynez's claim but the man wouldn't look at him. “Delaney?” he asked in a voice that broke.

  The lawyer flinched as though he'd been slapped. “She's right, Your Grace,” he answered. “If the contract isn't fulfilled, the marriage can not be set aside.” He finally looked up at Dek. “You must do all you can to get her with child. If that fails, it is not your fault."

  "But she's tried for eight years and hasn't conceived. What are the chances of her conceiving now?"

  "Slim to none,” the lawyer replied, “but the law is the law. You must do your duty as her husband at least once a month."

  The Baron of the WindWarrior Clan stared at his lawyer in silence for a long moment then his gaze slipped slowly to his wife. There was no mistaking the gloating on Ynez's face, the triumph blazing there. It was a bitter thing to see, and it cut him to the core. It hurt him so deeply he was surprised he didn't drop to the floor in a bleeding heap.

  "Did that take the winds out of your sails, Deklyn?” she cooed to him.

  "Why are you doing this now?” he asked, his face filled with desperation.

  She ignored his question and grinned hatefully. “You will come to my bed and do your best to get me with child."

  Hopelessness warred with overwhelming anger in the very depths of his soul. He had never felt so discouraged, so helpless, so powerless in all his life. Not even weaponless, facing an enraged warrior charging with a sword aimed straight at his heart, had he ever known such defenselessness. All he could do was stare at her as she calmly stood, tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder and then walked to the door. When she turned, gave him a brutal, knowing smile filled with so much venom it made him flinch as it was bestowed upon him, he felt completely defeated.

  "I,” she said as she flung open the door, “am the Baroness of Drogh-gheay,” she said, head held high. “And the Baroness of Drogh-gheay I will remain!” With a brittle laugh, she slammed the door shut behind her.

  Delaney slumped in his chair. The vibrations in the room were overpowering—as dark and sinister as any known to man. There was rage flowing in waves from the man standing beside him but there was fear there, as well, and the lawyer looked up.

  "What are you going to do, Dek?” he asked. For a long time, it didn't seem as though the Baron would answer and when he did, his voice was without inflection.

  "What choice do I have?"

  Delaney shook his head. “None that I can see."

  Dek lowered his head to his forearm on the mantle and closed his eyes. “You say you have the deeds to Sheidaghan with you?"

  "Aye,” Delaney said and opened his briefcase to rummage through the stuffed contents, withdrawing four copies of the legal papers. He held them out to his overlaird.

  Dek opened his eyes, issued a weary sigh, and then took the papers. He glanced at them then let his hand fall, the papers rustling against his leg as his shoulders slumped.

  "She thinks she's won, but she's sorely mistaken. I'll give her those forty-three Seedings she's insisting on."

  "Thirty-nine,” Delaney corrected. “She is willing to forego four of them."

  "Well, I'm not,” Dek said through clenched teeth. He shot his lawyer a cold look. “Did you hear her say those Seedings I had to make up had a timeframe attached to them?"

  "No,” Delaney said, drawing out the word. “What are you thinking, Dek?"

  "I'm thinking the bitch has bitten off more than she can chew this time, and I can promise you she won't like the twenty-four I'll be making up!"

  * * * *

  When he left the library, there were three things Dek needed to do before he went to the courtyard where his people would be congregating. His first stop was to the offices of the Tribunal—the three-man judiciary unit of Tarryn. It did not take him long to demand their signatures on all four copies of the deed. Not one of the judges questioned his motives or desires for the look on the Baron's face did not bode well for anyone who either delayed or annoyed him. The signatures were applied and the Baron sent on his way—amid sighs of relief from the Bench.

  The second thing he did was to make a visit to the castellan to inform him that under no circumstances was he to allow any corporeal punishment of the inhabitants or servants of Drogh-gheay until its overlaird was apprised of whatever transgression warranted the punishment. If there was a question in the mind of the castellan concerning whether punishment was needed, the transgressor was to be incarcerated and treated justly until the Baron returned to judge the man or woman's offense.

  "Aye, Your Grace,” Bennett Yn Ghurn agreed with a heavy sigh of relief. “I was told the Baroness had your approval on such matters, and that I was not to bother you with it."

  "You know differently now,” Dek told the aging man.

  One last errand and the Black Baron headed for the exterior balcony that ran along the front of the keep's entrance. It was there where he could be seen and heard by those who had gathered in the courtyard. When he opened the doors and stepped out, he could hear the voices of his people, but at this point they noticed him standing with his hands on the marble railing, they began to cease speaking until a pin dropping onto a blade of grass might well have been heard.

  Deklyn's talk with the castellan had awarded him with information that had turned his stomach. His gaze shifted across the courtyard to the old whipping post that had been there for generations. It had been left as a reminder of the death of a very brave man who had given his life to the whip long before Dek had been born. It was past time for the brutal thing to be torn down and after today, he meant to see it done.

  Eyes were on him—faces lifted up and filled with myriad expressions. He saw concern, curiosity, excitement, suspense, but mostly he saw fear and that heated the anger already festering in his blood. />
  He took a deep breath and raised his voice so everyone there would hear him.

  "It has come to my attention,” he said, sweeping his gaze over every quadrant of those gathered, “that I have been lax in my duties to Drogh-gheay as well as to you, its people. I have come here to ask your forgiveness for that dereliction of my duty and to ask that you find it in your heart to grant that forgiveness."

  He saw faces turning to other faces, mouths parting as whispers were exchanged. He waited until the whispers died down.

  "You are Drogh-gheay,” he continued. “And I am Drogh-gheay. Together we make Tarryn what it is. If there is a cancer within the walls of this keep, it will eventually spread beyond those walls to infect the whole of the country if we do not carve it out. As Drogh-gheay goes, so goes Tarryn. That is the way it has always been and that is the way it will always be. Do you agree?"

  "Aye!” the people cried.

  "If you have an enemy, that enemy is mine. If Drogh-gheay has an enemy, that enemy is mine.” His hands tightened on the railing. “I deal harshly with my enemies, and I will deal harshly with yours. I will not abide a transgression against you for that is a transgression against Drogh-gheay.” He pointed to the whipping post. “That evil thing stands as a constant reminder of how a good and brave man gave his life to keep Drogh-gheay from being destroyed. It has stood there for longer than any of us here today have drawn breath. Before the sun sets on this day, that place where Tuirc Yn Baase shed his life's blood so Drogh-gheay would survive will be no more!"

  A cry went up and the people clapped, stamped their feet. Catcalls and whistles rang out over the courtyard until the Baron raised his arms for silence. When that silence settled around his people, he lowered his hands to the railing once more.

  "No man—or woman—save your overlaird has the right to mete out punishment to you. No man—or woman—save the man standing before you has the right to mete out pain of any kind to you. When I heard this morning that punishment and pain have become commonplace here in my absence, I knew a moment of killing rage that took me to a place I pray I never go again. I never want to feel that kind of fury again."