Lily interrupted. “Father, what is going on?”
Rogan whipped around. Seeing her, his eyes narrowed. The sight of his anger made her step back. “Lily, I told you to stay in the room!”
She had never suspected his displeasure could be so awesome. She swallowed her fear and stuck out her chin. “No, I will not stay in my room, Rogan, even if it is your order. Please, someone tell me what is happening.”
Enguerrand sputtered, “Listen to your husband, child, get to your chamber.”
Courage borne of fear made her obstinate. “I will not. Explain this to me!”
Catherine floated forward, seeming to be propelled upon a cloud. Her face was transformed from its usual stern composure to an expression of near rapture. “There has been a terrible tragedy, Lily dear.”
“Catherine, not now,” Enguerrand warned.
“She needs to know, Father. It is not as if this thing could be kept from her. Do you not think she should be told what manner of man she has married?”
“I think, rather, your father should know what manner of woman he has sired,” Rogan shot. “This is your doing, Catherine. Your hand is behind this preposterous accusation.”
“You lie to save yourself!” Catherine cried.
Lily’s panic was rising. “My lord, please, if you have any regard for me at all, tell me what is happening.”
Rogan made to move toward her, but the point of a sword came up to stop him. He leveled a glare at its owner. The poor man took an involuntary step backward and Rogan passed.
“Listen to me,” he said to her gently, laying his hands on her shoulders. “You must be very strong. This will be straightened out presently. ’Tis some kind of terrible mistake.” He paused, drawing a breath. “Your sister has claimed I raped her.”
Lily felt an instant flood of relief. “Catherine is lying, of course. You know she is jealous. She is saying this to—”
“Not Catherine, Lily. ’Tis Elspeth who has said it.”
A dizzying moment of shock drained the strength from her body. Reflexively Lily whispered, “She is lying,” but the words were not convincing. Elspeth did not lie. Elspeth was the purest person on this earth, devoted to God and completely without malice. “Perhaps it is some mistake.”
“Yes, it is,” he answered, but he had heard the doubt in her voice. “Lily?”
She wanted to believe him. If it were anyone but Elspeth…
Andrew’s voice sounded just at that moment “What is this? Rogan? Enguerrand? I demand an explanation.”
Rogan reached out a hand and restrained him. “Hold, brother, ‘tis nothing but a misunderstanding.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
Rogan paused. “The little girl says that I raped her.”
“What?” Andrew exploded. He spun to confront Enguerrand. “What purpose do you have with this hideous lie?” He turned his head, glaring at Lily in suspicious assessment. “Did you know about this?”
“I just heard of it,” Lily said defensively, then wondered why she felt accused. She looked at Rogan. He was studying her.
“This is ridiculous!” Lily announced, glaring at all of them. “I will speak to Elspeth myself.”
“Elspeth can see no one!” Catherine interrupted.
Lily gave her a withering glare. “Surely she can see me, Catherine, as I am the closest to her of anyone.”
“She is too distressed.”
“Then I will comfort her.” Lily brushed past her, hurrying back into the keep. She was surprised when Catherine came fast upon her heels.
“Elspeth cannot face you. She thinks that you care for him more than her, that is why she did not come to you. She was afraid that your love for Rogan would turn you against her.”
Lily whirled. “That is absurd. Elspeth knows I would never forsake her, and if she tells the truth, then I will know it and believe her. As for you Catherine, it is your involvement in this that causes me to doubt the most I find it unlikely that she would confide in you. She is terrified of you!”
“I know I have been—at times—less than understanding, perhaps,” Catherine purred, “but in urgent situations such as these, trivial misunderstandings are unimportant. Elspeth came to me and it is right that she did. I am her sister every bit as much as you are!”
Lily hurried faster through the dim corridors of the castle, hoping to escape Catherine and the disturbing things she was saying. Her explanation had a ring of plausibility.
And there was the matter of Elspeth’s behavior of late, so obviously distressed and piteously withdrawn. If she knew her beloved sister was marrying the man who had raped her, would she not be this way?
And after all, how well did she really know Rogan St. Cyr?
They came to the portal to Elspeth’s chamber, and Lily whirled on Catherine. “Alone,” she announced.
Catherine hesitated, wetting her lips. “Of course,” she conceded after a moment, stepping back.
Elspeth lay in her bed, her eyes huge and red, staring at nothing. Lily’s feet whispered on the rushes as she went to her side. “Elspeth, ’tis I, Lily.”
Elspeth did not respond. “Can you speak to me?” Lily asked softly.
“She told you,” Elspeth said, turning to meet Lily’s gaze. “She told you and now you hate me!”
“No, no, sweet, I do not hate you. I did not come here to berate you, I promise. I only want to know the truth.”
“She said I would not have to speak to anyone, that I could remain quiet and she would take care of everything.”
Lily took Elspeth’s hand in hers, feeling how cold the slim fingers felt. “I am afraid I insisted. I have to hear it from you. I know you would never lie to me.”
Elspeth paled, appearing wraithlike. “Ask Catherine. Go away, please!”
“Darling,” Lily urged, “I just need to know from you if it is true what Catherine has told us. Did Rogan…did Rogan hurt you?”
“Speak to Catherine,” Elspeth cried again.
Lily paused, not knowing if she dared press further. Elspeth was in a fragile state. Still she had to know. There was too much at risk. “Tell me just once, yes or no. Did my husband force himself on you? Tell me, Elspeth, and we will never speak of it again.”
Elspeth thrashed, “No. No!”
Hope leaped violently in Lily’s heart. “No, he did not?”
“No, no, no. I will not say it.”
“Then he did do it?” Lily rushed, desperate. “I beg you to tell me. For me, Elspeth, please. If you love me, then answer. My entire life is at stake. Did he hurt you?”
Elspeth calmed suddenly, and her glazed, wild eyes stared at Lily as her mouth worked mutely. At last, she cried, “Yes!”
Lily forced herself to remain calm. “Are you certain it was he? Could there be a mistake?”
Elspeth shook her head. “No. It was Rogan. No more!”
Lily closed her eyes and withdrew, pulling herself upright. She looked down at her sister, lying rigid and silent now. There were so many other questions, but she did not dare ask.
Elspeth’s face was a mask of grief. “I am sorry, Lily.”
Distracted, Lily murmured, “It is not your fault, sweetling. Never, never be sorry, for the one who did this to you bears the burden of guilt.” Lily wished she had it in her to comfort her sister, but her own heart was ripping apart and a shocked numbness had come over her. “He will be punished.”
“No,” Elspeth cried, “just send him away. Never go near him again. Just send him away and the bishops will annul!”
Now it was Lily who could not speak. Nor could she bear to look at her sister. She managed to say, “Rest now. I will take care of it.” And then she left.
Chapter Nine
Rogan stood in the courtyard, impatient for Lily and Catherine to return. Pacing like a caged leopard, Andrew was silent. He kept glancing to Rogan, waiting for instruction as to what to do. Rogan sent a silent message with a stony look: wait.
Taking a deep brea
th, he turned to Lily’s father. “Let me speak with the child. I am certain if I can only confront her, we will learn the truth.”
“I am convinced we know the truth,” Enguerrand growled. “Here come my daughters.”
Rogan turned to observe his wife as she approached, Catherine with her. “Where is the child? I want to speak to her myself,” he said.
“Elspeth cannot speak to you or anyone,” Lily said quietly.
She did not look at him. Her expression was cold, and he realized with a shock she was regarding him as if…“Lily, tell me what happened with Elspeth!”
She stood by her father, stiff and rigid. “I spoke with my sister,” she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper, “and I am convinced she is telling the truth. She told me what you did to her.” She turned away from him then, addressing her father. “She told me that my husband did indeed rape her.”
“This is ridiculous!” Andrew thundered. “When? How?”
Catherine stepped up. “It was the night before last. He stole into her room while she slept and violated her in her own bed!”
Andrew was almost triumphant. “Rogan was with me until late, and I saw him retire before I adjourned to my own chamber.”
“You will forgive us for not having confidence in your testimony,” Catherine sneered. Her eyes glowed like a venomous cat who had finally captured her prey. “You are hardly reliable, being his kin.”
“Shut up, Catherine!” Rogan turned to his wife. “Lily!” He saw her flinch at his call, but still she refused to meet his gaze. He grew angry. “Yesterday, you swore before God to obey me. Now, I want you to look at me and tell me that you believe these lies, that you condemn me. Say it to me.”
She took so long to oblige, he thought she might disregard his order. But she swung on him all at once, her eyes clear with bitterness, her jaw set. That lovely, strong nose he had always admired flared now with a rage barely contained. “Then I will say it clearly for you. I do believe Elspeth. I had it straight from her.” Weakly she added, “I have no choice.”
“My God!” Andrew exploded. “Lily, you know him. How can you believe this!”
Pain clouded those sea-green eyes. “Elspeth would never lie.” When her gaze slid to Rogan, her lips trembled. “You are a demon who preys on the purest of innocents. I revile the fact you are my husband, and as of now I denounce you. And I join my family and condemn you for the disgusting monster you are.”
“There is no mercy for his kind,” Catherine said, unable to hide her glee. “He is to be executed.”
“You cannot do that!” Andrew protested. “You have no authority to kill another noble. You need the sanction of the king’s law for that.”
“He raped our sister!” Catherine shouted back.
Rogan stared at Lily, who stood under the scathing glare with a fine rage of her own. Around him, voices argued, but nothing penetrated the red haze filling his brain. Lily had just condemned him, and the shock of that left him suddenly drained.
Andrew was saying, “You will have much to answer for if you do not respect the king’s authority here, both from the crown and from my family. Rest assured that there is little Alexander will not dare to avenge Rogan should you harm him.”
Slowly Rogan turned away from Lily. The betrayer. His eyes lingered, pinning her over his shoulder until she at last looked away with a trembling gasp.
Enguerrand was half-mad with grief, but he was shrewd and too aware of his position to totally abandon convention, and the law. “No, Catherine, we cannot kill him. Though I would like to. My Elspeth!” He choked on the word and for a moment, Rogan thought he would weep openly.
Regaining his composure, he gave Rogan a look of pure malice. “But I can hold you until a court of justice can be convened by a representative of the king’s to hear the evidence.”
“Father!” Catherine began, clearly disappointed. Enguerrand waved his hand sharply to silence her. Rogan was dully surprised it worked, and she snapped her venomous mouth shut.
“But he will not escape my wrath so easily,” Enguerrand continued darkly. “He is a man who preys on helpless children, and so he shall receive just recompense. Perhaps if he is without the pains of conscience, then he needs another kind of pain to encourage remorse. Thus, I will give him pain aplenty to keep him company while he awaits judgment in my dungeons. Tiebold! Fetch the bullwhip. I shall have him flogged!”
Rogan realized these words should have made some impact on him. But as they dragged him away to lash him to the posts in the lower bailey, he could think only of Lily standing like an ivory statue, cold and rigid and unreachable. Nothing of the Lily he had married only yesterday, loved only just last night, remained in the stone-faced woman who now stood with her family against him.
He didn’t bother to resist when they bound his hands to the posts and ripped off his shirt. He fixed his eyes upon her, silently daring her to relent, to speak even now in his support.
Andrew continued to protest loudly and vehemently. At Enguerrand’s sharp order, he was held to prevent interference.
A sharp sound ripped through his brain, and he knew the man behind him was warming up his arm, snapping the deadly coil of leather in the air. Rogan was surprised to feel a cold, numbing dread seep through his limbs, leaving him trembling. He was not a man who feared much, and he had borne pain before. But he had also seen what a bullwhip could do in the hands of an experienced man and, yes, he was afraid.
Eyes still fixed on his wife, he saw when Lily spoke urgently to her father, but he could not hear what it was she said. He saw Enguerrand’s head shake in a definitive denial. Then the first blow fell.
An excruciating flare of fire burst across his back. The wound immediately pulsed and stung, alive with agonizing feeling. Again an explosion of pain came as another welt was opened.
On the fifteenth stroke, he let his head sag and the agony made him senseless. He thought he heard someone weeping. He wondered who it was who would cry out at his suffering here in the midst of his tormentors.
For himself, he did not make a sound.
He was taken into one of the tiny cells in the bowels of Charolais, a dark place that stank of human waste and damp. The amplified sound of dripping echoed around him. It drowned out the gruff commands of his unkind companions—two burly soldiers who bore him down the steps. He could not stand, let alone walk, so his feet dangled helplessly after him and his head lolled with the limpness of a well-worn doll. Not that Rogan was aware of any of this; he was not. He had forgotten where he was, who he was. He was only dimly aware of some delirium nightmare, of a pain that seemed blessedly remote at the moment. Only one thing was real to him: Lily’s betrayal. That anguish burned savagely in his heart.
He was shoved into a small chamber. It was too dark to see anything, but he heard the final thud of the door slamming shut and the high-pitched squeal of an indignant rat put to flight.
He lay still, studying the darkness creeping in upon him. He was falling into a vortex, one he found strangely—dangerously—inviting. He fought against it for as long as he could, but it would not be denied. As it consumed him, he didn’t know if he would ever wake, so he prayed for his soul in case he did not. He wondered if dying now, with so much hate in his heart, would damn him eternally.
Catherine stood over Rogan, Phillippe beside her holding the torch. St Cyr was still unconscious, lying on the floor, unmoving. He was on his side, his mangled back away from her, so she could not see the damage. She had no wish to view it. The physician had just left, having reassured her that he did not think Rogan would live through the night. But Catherine was not satisfied with that. Rogan was a man of strength and endurance.
Possess or destroy. He himself had named her obsession.
“You should have come to me when you had the chance,” she said in a deadly low voice. She stepped forward, placing the toe of her shoe against his ribs and giving him a shove. He fell onto his back and the pain of the ruined flesh hitting the stone fl
oor brought him briefly awake in a stark flare of agony.
Catherine gave him a brittle smile as he struggled to focus on his tormentor before unconsciousness came again. When she turned away, she noticed that Phillippe’s swarthy face held an unusual pallor.
“I want him dead as soon as possible. Tonight, or tomorrow night at the latest, set the dungeons afire. Have it discovered in time to save the rest of the castle, but I want these rooms destroyed completely.”
She cast a lingering glance over her shoulder as Phillippe led the way out to the corridor. Rogan lay motionless. Even ravaged as he was, he was a magnificent specimen of man.
It was a waste, but leaving him alive was unthinkable.
The following day, there was not a moment that Lily did not think of him, despising him, yearning for him. She felt shattered, an excruciating sensation that made her stomach knot and her head pound with a constant, dull ache. He was a beast. The man she had loved was a ruthless animal, and all her dreams of happiness were dead.
She wanted answers. She wanted to scream at him, tell him how much she hated him for what he had done.
God help her, she wanted to kill him herself at times.
Her hatred, she could understand. What she could not fathom was her pity.
She had protested the lashing. Eventually, as Rogan’s body had hung limp between his bindings, she had begged her father to stop it. Finally she simply sobbed and ran away, not even able to make herself see the end. What was it in her that she could take no joy in his punishment? He had no right to her compassion. And she felt like a traitor sitting by Elspeth’s bed as that one slumbered in drug-induced sleep, wondering if Rogan’s wounds had been properly dressed, thinking about his agony and tormenting herself with thoughts of his need.
Perhaps it was pity that drove her. Perhaps it was simply the necessity to see him again, confront him. Whatever it was, she finally decided she would go to him.
She gathered some bandages and a salve and made her way to the dungeon. The guard opened the door and fitted a sconce into the bracket on the wall.
The Flower And The Sword Page 8