The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)
Page 34
Catherine awoke and was lost in her surroundings for a fleeting moment, and then she remembered. Her despair was replaced with relief as she realised she was still with Galeren. But for how much longer? She tried to dispel the fear from her mind and closed her eyes, savouring the rhythmical rise and fall of his chest as she lay upon him.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“You’re awake?” she said surprised.
“I have been for some hours.”
It had been impossible to sleep knowing that Catherine could be taken from him at any moment by De Floyran. They had talked through the night, trying to avoid dwelling on the grimness of their predicament and instead had reassured each other by focusing on a future that, secretly, he feared would never be. Still, it had been a pleasant fantasy in the cold darkness of the oubliette.
Finally, sometime deep into the night, Catherine had lost her fight with sleep and had succumbed to it. He watched her; the hours before the dawn seeming to fly by with unmerciful speed.
“’Tis morning,” she said, sounding panicked. She heard noise coming from beyond the walls of the oubliette and the muffled voices and movement of men.
“What’s going on?”
“They are taking the bodies of the dead men away. The Pope went to see my father earlier. He must have extended this small mercy to him.”
“And no other.” She said mournfully.
“No,” he agreed and then added, “Clement isn’t cruel, he is just weak.”
“Beaumanoir is here.” Catherine blurted out abruptly.
She didn’t know why he had come to her thoughts so suddenly. When she had seen him the previous night, it had been like something out of a macabre dream. He had just stood there with the others, witness once again to her suffering. He had the same helpless look on his face as the day he had seen her being taken from her father’s estate to end her days in a convent.
This time she had been able to smell his weakness and cowardice and was left feeling only contempt for him. It was fitting, she thought, that he would be on the other side of the divide with the cruel and selfish, an ocean away from her and Galeren and the Templar brethren.
“What?” Galeren said horrified. Though he had heard it only once, he did not forget the name of the rogue who had abandoned Catherine so quickly to save his own skin and feather his nest in her father’s favour.
“I think he is one of Philip’s councillors,” Catherine said, knowing that his father had many contacts at Philip’s court. Robard had never been much of a warrior and she remembered that he’d often complained about how awkward a sword felt in his hand. He didn’t have the heart for battle and she imagined that her father had been more than happy for him to find a place of prestige among Philip’s advisors, seeing as he was married to her sister.
She thought of Galeren who had just walked into a nest of vipers for her, preferring to suffer with her than abandon her. She knew that given the choice, she would rather suffer hell over and over with Galeren than spend a single moment of freedom with her spineless, former lover.
“When did you see him?”
“Last night, he was in the guard room with the others. I did not speak to him. I was shocked and more concerned about you.”
“Christ!” Galeren screamed, his rage finding its pinnacle again.
“He is the least of our worries. I feel nothing but pity for him.” She turned and looked into his eyes; they were full of hopeless grief.
“Don’t despair!” she said with desperate sentiment.
Galeren closed his eyes. “How can I not? I know I have lost you.”
“You will never lose me. Remember our bond, remember what you said?”
“I know, but our bond will not save us.”
“You are wrong. It brought us together, and it will bring us together again.” She closed her eyes and bit down on the bottom of her lip, as if concentrating.
“What are you doing?” he asked, bemused by her manner.
“Looking for the future,” she answered.
He humoured her for a few moments and studied her beautiful face. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“We do have a future, but we may suffer much travail before we get it.”
“What sort of travail?”
“I don’t know exactly, it’s just what I sense.”
He nodded and smiled to show he was pleased with the answer. However, it felt like the blind advice a priest may give to a prisoner before he was executed; it will be over quickly and you won’t feel a thing. It served no purpose but to calm the condemned, albeit before they made it to the scaffold.
“You don’t believe me?” she asked.
“I want to but,” he stopped and shrugged when he saw her frown.
“I’ve sensed things before Galeren, in the past.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve been to this place before,” she said, “in a dream.”
“A dream?” he said curiously.
“De Floyran brought me here in one of them. The scent in the dream was the same as this place. I didn’t tell you before because I was afraid of what was happening and I didn’t understand. I dreamt of De Floyran’s attack too, when I was a child. I am sure of it. I didn’t understand it then but when he attacked me I felt like it had already happened. It sounds crazy I know but –”
“No, it does not,” he sighed, “some of us have the gift of inner sight. You probably already possessed it, but now it has become stronger. You just have to learn how to use it.”
“Do you possess it?”
“No. My senses are stronger in other areas. Yours is a human gift but it is enhanced by the wolf’s instincts. I hope you are right Catherine, I could do with hope like that.”
He went to pull her towards him but stopped as he caught the scent of De Floyran. Catherine caught it too and threw herself against Galeren, gripping him tightly. The gate at the side of the oubliette opened and two wolves leapt onto the floor of the pit, followed by De Floyran who was in human form.
He folded his arms and smiling said, “How tragic, and pathetic.”
Catherine turned to look at Galeren’s face and searched for some sign of hope from him but it had faded and had been replaced with dread.
“Be nice Galeren. Remember I have your father’s chain to tug on if you try any tricks.” De Floyran smiled and wagged his finger at him in a scolding manner. Galeren bit on his tongue with a thousand threats wishing to be made, but he knew they were all futile and would only amuse De Floyran. Instead he fixed him with a frigid stare.
“I think I have been overly generous in allowing you the whole night and some of the morning to say your goodbyes to each other. But considering the show you put on last night you deserved it.” He put his hands on his hips and smiled.
“However, I have come to claim my prize.”
With De Floyran’s men already in wolf form, Galeren knew that he had no advantage here.
“Come here,” De Floyran said sinisterly and reaching out, he beckoned to her with his finger. Disadvantaged, but not willing to let her go without some resistance, Galeren pushed Catherine aside and lunged forward, grabbing De Floyran’s finger. In one fluid motion he snapped it, between its base and knuckle.
“Ahhrrr!” De Floyran cried, jumping backwards. One of the wolves pounced, knocking Galeren back onto the floor. Standing on his chest, it bared its teeth and drove its snarling muzzle into his face.
“Stop!” Catherine cried, fearful that Galeren was about to lose his throat.
“Botolf,” De Floyran yelled, as he hauled Catherine up using his good hand. “Leave him, for now.”
He forced Catherine out of the pit and into Caradas’ waiting arms.
“Take her up to my chamber Raymond.”
“No!” Catherine screamed, struggling in Caradas’ grasp. Galeren could hear her resistance continue as she was dragged from the dungeons. He shook his head in defeat and looked
up as De Floyran re-entered the pit.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” De Floyran said furiously. “That little feat is going to cost you.” The displeasure at being humiliated in front of his men and Catherine intensified upon his face. “Any more tricks like that and I will break everyone of Catherine’s bones, starting with her little finger.” He added sneering.
“Take this hell hound to the torture room,” he instructed the others, “he needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Do you think I care without her?” Galeren said miserably, as Botolf and Armin changed back into men and dragged him to his feet. “You have no concept of what I am feeling, but believe me when I tell you that you have already done your worst to me.”
De Floyran’s eyes narrowed. “Ha! I think not. I have yet to touch her and when I do then you will be at your worst. I will spare you no detail. I want him strappado, then wait for my instruction. Submit to your suffering, Galeren, or I will make you witness hers!”
Galeren did not resist as they dragged him to the torture room. As they strung him up, he was sure he could still feel Catherine’s resistance coursing through his damned blood.