by Ken Johns
Edward sipped his wine. These two lords had struck an alliance over the marriage of Reginald’s daughter, but they could not have been more different. Reginald was a merchant to his core. His only real interest was money, and he certainly had no religious convictions. Wessex was a pious man with a reputation for violence bought with the blood of his enemies, both in the lists and on the battlefield.
Wessex accepted a serving of capon from the carver, but before he picked up his knife, he closed his eyes and crossed himself.
Edward smiled. It had been a long time since he had shared a meal with someone as devout as Wessex. This was good news indeed and presented Edward with an irresistible opportunity. “My lord?”
“What?” Reginald dragged his gaze off Wessex.
“I think we should discuss the execution of the heretic.” Edward kept his smile fixed in place.
“Heretic?” Wessex spoke with his mouth full. “Why have you not told me of this?”
Reginald glared at Edward but smiled at Wessex. “It is nothing, Wessex. A civil matter that shall be dealt with presently.”
“I should like to see this heretic.” Wessex put his knife down on the tablecloth. “I have never seen one.”
“Why do we not execute the heretic tonight, my lord?” said Edward. “I am sure Lord Wessex would enjoy the spectacle of a witch burning.”
“Yes, Reginald, that would be most satisfactory.” Wessex pushed his chair away from the table as though he expected Reginald to comply immediately.
Edward held his tongue. He had but to wait as Reginald came slowly to the inevitable conclusion that he must satisfy Wessex.
A scream pierced the din of the crowd. Everyone fell silent and twisted their heads toward the passageway.
Edward stood and followed Reginald and Wessex, already headed for the hallway.
“Henri! Take your foot off that woman.” Evelyn’s voice came from the stairway. “At once!”
Edward felt the rest of the guests crowding in behind him as he stood behind Reginald and Wessex outside the archway that led to the stairs. Evelyn’s eyes were glued to something up around the bend. Edward followed her gaze to where Henri stood with one foot on a woman’s back. She lay awkwardly with a sword handle visible beneath her. Blood dripped onto the stair below. Henri dragged her to her feet, and Edward was impressed by how the blade skewered her breast like a side of meat. Henri pulled the sword up and out of her, handing it to the guard behind him. The woman whimpered and then collapsed. If Henri had not already been holding her, she would surely have fallen.
“Henri! What have you done?” Evelyn glared at him.
Henri addressed Reginald. “My lord. We recaptured the witch trying to escape with the man who drove the carriage. She has tried to escape twice since then and failed both times. This grievous injury was by her own hand.”
That was hard to believe. Why would she have driven a sword through her own appendage? How? Edward wrestled with the mechanics of it for a moment then set that aside. The woman was clearly dying. Perhaps this was an opportunity.
“She is quite beautiful.” Wessex ran a finger down the cleft of his chin.
“The hand of almighty God is at work, my lord,” Edward said as he raised both palms toward the spectacle. “See how he has begun to spread his righteous justice even before we had intended.”
“Surely you must burn her immediately. You cannot allow these wounds to rob you of the opportunity to serve the Lord,” said Wessex.
The woman hung limp in Henri’s grip. Edward longed to see the flames lick their way up her body but he forced his eyes to Reginald. “Indeed, my lord. We must make haste.”
Reginald stood pondering and said finally, “Henri. Take this witch to the village square. She will be burned at the stake before the night is over.”
“Yes, my lord.” Henri dragged her toward the keep door.
“Reginald!”
“Not now, Evelyn.” To his guests, he said, “Let us prepare to move to the square for this evening’s unexpected entertainment.”
The crowd let out a cheer.
Edward scurried past him and followed Henri out the door.
Chapter Thirty-One
April 28, 1341
Mila was certain the screams had come from Jess. She heard Lady Evelyn yell at Henri to take his foot off, but then they lowered their voices. She strained to hear what they said, but she caught only the occasional word. Then there was a cheer. Not good.
She had to get out. Pulling a bolt from her quiver, she loaded the crossbow. She backed down the hallway into the shadows, where she had a clear view of the barred gate.
Lady Evelyn appeared almost immediately. She unlocked the gate, peering into the darkness. “Mila? There is no time for games. Something horrible has happened to your sister.”
And whose fault is that? Mila stepped forward. She held the crossbow angled toward the floor but made sure Lady Evelyn knew it was loaded.
“That will not be necessary. I have come to help you get out of the castle.”
“I’m not leaving without Jess.”
“I know, but do come along, there is no time.” Lady Evelyn hurried to the stairs.
Did she really think Mila would just follow her? Mila raised the crossbow. “Lady Evelyn!”
“What is it, child?” She turned at the stairs. “We really have no time.”
“I just have a few questions.” Mila held the crossbow aimed at her head.
“I will explain on the way.” The woman folded her arms across her chest. “You will never get past the guards with a loaded crossbow.”
Was she fearless? Or did she know Mila wouldn’t shoot her? Mila got the feeling she was testing Lady Evelyn’s patience. This was a waste of time. She couldn’t trust Lady Evelyn, but she had to find out what had happened to Jess. She had no choice. “Fine!”
Mila unloaded and shouldered her weapon. At the top of the stairs, the crowd exiting the castle slowly shuffled past. Lady Evelyn reached for Mila’s coif, and Mila forced herself not to bat the hands away. Lady Evelyn pushed Mila’s coif back and let it fall down around her neck.
“There.” Lady Evelyn combed her fingers through Mila’s hair. “Claude will hardly recognize you.” She took Mila’s hand and stepped into the crowd.
They moved with the other guests until they were out of the keep and down past the well. Two lines were forming. Lady Evelyn led her around the one headed for the stable and joined the one leading out through the gatehouse passage.
It was time for some answers. Mila took a breath.
“Not here, dear.” Lady Evelyn did not even turn to look at her. “Keep your head up and look Claude straight in the eyes as we pass.”
It was good advice, but how had she known Mila was about to speak? They reached the gatehouse, where the line became single file as Claude let the guests into the passage. When their turn came, Lady Evelyn released her hand. “Will you be joining us at the execution, Claude?”
“No, Madame, my place is here.” Claude gave a slight nod.
Lady Evelyn was past him but she continued to speak, drawing his attention toward her. “That is unfortunate, Claude. Please have a horse saddled for me. I shall return presently.”
“Oui, Madame.” Claude faced Mila. She nodded at him as she stepped through the door. A grimace flickered over his face, but Lady Evelyn took her hand and pulled her out of the passage. She half expected Claude to call out, but he was engaged by the next guest.
When they emerged into the outer bailey, Mila stopped Lady Evelyn. “Execution?”
“Keep your voice down,” Lady Evelyn said, squeezing her hand.
Mila snatched it away and whispered, “What execution? And don’t you dare say you’ll tell me later.” Mila drilled her with what she hoped was her most withering stare.
“Do come along.” Lady Evelyn stepped around Mila and walked away.
Mila’s jaw dropped open.
The line had thinned as it drifted toward the ba
rbican gate. Small groups of people, some mounted, some walking, made their way out of the castle. Mila rushed after Lady Evelyn then slowed to walk beside her.
Lady Evelyn did not look at her. “My brother has seen fit to let the bishop execute your sister.”
“When?”
“As soon as the fire is prepared in the town square.”
“And all these people are going to watch?” The people around her chatted amongst themselves as they walked. They smiled and nodded, their faces bright with expectant grins. “You people are sick.”
“Not all of us.” Lady Evelyn stopped as they neared the main gate.
A large man separated himself from a group chatting around the porter and walked toward them. As he approached, his eyes were fixed on Lady Evelyn. A smile grew across his face.
“I have good news.” He grabbed Lady Evelyn and lifted her into a bear hug.
“Put me down, Raymond. There is work to be done.”
He lowered her gently until her feet touched the dirt. She straightened her dress. “Let me introduce Lady Mila.”
Raymond glanced at her and his smile disappeared. He bowed. “My lady.” To Evelyn he said, “I thought I had made progress toward the thief, but as usual you have bettered me by simply finding her.”
Lady Evelyn patted his shoulder. “Do not feel badly, Raymond. The Lady Mila presented herself to me at the castle.”
Well, that was an exaggeration, but Mila needed this little reunion to be over so she could see what kind of help Lady Evelyn would offer. She removed the sword and belt and presented them to Sir Raymond. “My apologies.”
Raymond raised an eyebrow but accepted the sword and strapped it on.
Mila plucked at the chain mail she wore. “May I have the use of the armor a little longer, sir?”
“Of course,” he said.
“Raymond, darling,” said Evelyn, “Surely you have heard about the execution.”
“Indeed. I saw the witch as they took her out. She is a real beauty, that one. Even covered in blood.”
“Raymond!” He stopped talking. “She is Lady Mila’s sister.”
Raymond bowed his head. “That is most unfortunate.”
Lady Evelyn pulled Raymond’s ear down to her mouth. She whispered something Mila could not hear, released him, and said, “Mila is trying to rescue her sister. You will accompany her and keep her safe.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Lady Evelyn pulled Mila’s coif back up over her hair. “It is a crime to dress as a man. Did you know that?”
Mila rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me this now?”
Lady Evelyn smiled and held Mila’s hands. “Godspeed. Now go!”
“Wait. Why are you helping me?” The cliché about the gift horse crossed Mila’s mind. This was all just a little too convenient.
“I have my reasons, and you have no time.” Lady Evelyn nodded toward the village.
Mila huffed. Did Lady Evelyn ever give a straight answer? But she was right about the time, so Mila ran out the barbican gate with Raymond close behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
April 28, 1341
Reginald and Wessex rode slowly past the alley, followed by a squad of four guards on foot. Evelyn urged her horse forward, and it stepped into the street behind the guards and matched their speed. She had questions for Reginald. He was behaving oddly, letting Bishop Edward and Wessex convince him the foreigners were heretics or even witches. Father had taught him the truth about heresy and witchcraft, so why now was he falling back on the ignorant opinions of his guests? There had to be something else at work here. She nudged her horse forward and came alongside Reginald.
“Evelyn. I wondered where you had disappeared to.”
“Lady Evelyn.” Wessex nodded to her.
“I had to speak to Raymond.”
“Ah,” bawled Wessex, “And how is your husband? Ready for a good thrashing, I hope.”
She raised a single eyebrow. “I’m quite sure if thrashings are to be had, they will be delivered by him, not to him.”
“Bah!” Wessex looked away, shaking his head.
Evelyn studied Wessex. She had not yet decided if he was worthy of Mary, but everything she had seen so far was a disappointment. “I did not come to argue jousting, sir. I would much rather discuss the witch. You said she was very pretty, did you not?”
“Indeed,” said Wessex.
Evelyn had to engage Reginald if she was to learn his interest in the foreigners. “Did Reginald tell you he does not believe in witches?”
“He did not.” Wessex glanced at Reginald.
Reginald kept his peace.
“Oh, yes. Our father was quite adamant. Witches are simply women who are too smart for their own good.” She waited to see if Reginald would take the bait.
Reginald pursed his lips and glanced sideways at her before he addressed Wessex. “It is true. Father always favored the practical explanation.”
“So, you do not believe this witch is possessed by evil?” Wessex crossed himself.
“Of course not.” Evelyn shook her head.
“Evelyn. I can answer for myself.”
“Please do.” She waited, but he grew silent as he maneuvered his horse around a family moving slowly down the middle of the road.
“Well?” asked Wessex.
That was a blessing. If she waited long enough, Wessex would pry the information from him. She just needed to be present to hear it.
Finally, Reginald addressed Wessex. “It is true. I do not believe the woman is possessed. But the bishop does. Edward says the people are drifting away from the church, and he blames these witches.”
“Witches?” Wessex stared at Reginald. “How many are there?”
“We counted four yesterday.”
“Four! It is nothing short of an infestation, sir.” Wessex shook his head.
“I must disagree, Wessex.” Reginald paused as though working it out for the first time himself. “I am sure there is a perfectly rational explanation for their behavior. I had hoped to discuss it with the woman before she was so grievously injured.”
“So that is why you agreed to the execution?” Evelyn said. “She was no longer of any use to you? Reginald, I am appalled.” Evelyn’s horse drifted back, and she squeezed it gently with her thighs.
“I agreed to this execution for a number of reasons, all of which are my own.” Reginald threw a glare at her.
Evelyn ignored his warning and pressed on. “So. I have guessed the first one. Would you like me to continue, or should I give Wessex a turn?”
Wessex seemed uncomfortable. Perhaps he was unaccustomed to a woman badgering a man in Reginald’s position. Evelyn smiled while she waited, but Wessex remained silent. “No? Then I shall guess again.”
“Evelyn. That is quite enough.” Reginald stopped his horse.
They had reached the village square, and Evelyn and Wessex stopped their horses next to Reginald’s and looked out across the gathered masses. They had a clear view of the bishop, standing on the platform with his arms up and waiting for the crowd to acknowledge him. Reginald would not be very receptive to her pestering until after the show, so she let him be. She did hope Mila had some success rescuing her sister. That would rattle Reginald immensely, making it far easier to pry loose the information she required.
Chapter Thirty-Three
April 28, 1341
Mila spotted a knot of guards ahead in the crowd. She slowed to a walk as she came up behind them. Ten guards formed a loose V across the front and sides of a cage mounted on a wagon. Their task was to clear a path and they weren’t particularly interested in protecting their prisoner.
Mila was able to walk casually up to the back of the wagon. She bit back a scream. Jess lay on her back in a pool of her own blood. Jess’s left eye was nearly swollen shut. The bastards had beaten her. Mila didn’t know if she was alive or dead until Jess slowly raised one hand and gingerly explored the holes in her chest. Blood flowed
from a gash in the top of her left breast, a hole in the bottom, and a slice down the outside of her ribs. Jess rolled onto her side and managed to push herself into a sitting position with her right arm only.
Jess began to remove her tunic and was immediately rewarded with jeers and curses from the guards. Ignoring them, she bunched the shirt next to the wounds and tried to wrap the sleeves behind her back like a strapless halter.
Good job, Jess. But Mila saw the problem before Jess, who was obviously thinking slowly through her fog of pain. Mila wanted to shout to her but knew it would draw the guards’ attention. Use your pants. Mila willed her to think of it.
Jess laid down.
Don’t give up. Some blood must have reached Jess’s brain, because she started dragging her pants off.
Yes. Good girl.
The cheers and curses intensified. “Witch!” The guards grabbed the bars of the cage and shook it. “Heretic!” They spat on her and pawed at her like apes.
If Mila had a machine gun, she would have just mowed these assholes to the ground.
Jess struggled to the center of the cage where they couldn’t reach her. She knotted one sleeve to one pant leg, then wrapped the long cloth around and around her torso. She pulled it as tight as she could, then folded herself in a ball and lay on her side.
The cage wagon bumped along the village road. Jess bounced on the wooden floorboards. She lay there with her eyes closed for so long Mila thought she might have passed out.
All Mila could do was walk behind the cage… and watch her sister die. If only she knew how to use a sword, she could fight off the guards… She glanced at Raymond, who followed behind her. Lady Evelyn had told him to keep her safe. Would he fight off the guards long enough for her to get Jess out? Could she even get her out? She had no idea if the cage door was locked or, if so, what kind of lock it was.