B00CGOH3US EBOK Page 13

  "Nay."

  "Why not?" She couldn't believe he was refusing to help her. "Is it because you're still angry I ran away? You want me to go through this gruesome trial of medieval torture because I hurt you? Is this your way of getting back at me? I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?"

  "'Tis not that, my lady. Not that at all."

  "Then what is it?" She was trying desperately to understand.

  Baelin sighed, regret weighing heavy in the lines of his face. "What would you have me do? You saw yourself the small garrison of armed knights accompanying the manorial court. Were I to reveal my dragon form, they, along with all the villagers, would attack me in their fear and hatred. Would you have me slay the entire village to spare you from that which you brought upon yourself? Would you have me slaughter them down to the last woman and child?" His expression changed, the caring man turning into the hardened knight before her eyes. "Because 'tis what it would take to free you now."

  They came for her just after dawn.

  Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor of the room above her and headed for the ladder leading down to the cellar, coming closer, ever closer.

  Jill huddled in the corner, knowing it was useless to try to hide in the small, cramped room, but she did it anyway. If only the witch who'd cursed Baelin could turn her into a mouse, she could scurry under the straw. She wouldn't even mind being transformed into a disgusting cockroach for a while if it enabled her to slip through a crack in the wall and get away. But as the footfalls drew nearer, she knew there would be no escape for her.

  She stood and went to the window. "Baelin? Are you still out there?"

  "Aye, my lady."

  Of course he was. For the past three days and nights, he'd stood vigil outside her window, always there, a calming constant in this terrible nightmare.

  "They're coming."

  "I know."

  "I'm scared."

  "I know that, too. You must be brave. Remember, I will never be far from your side."

  Jill tried to choke back the sob stuck in her throat, but she couldn't. She wasn't that brave, not by a long shot. Instantly, Baelin was on his knees by the window. He reached through the bars and clasped her hand in his.

  "Do not weep, my lady," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "If only I could take your place. The fire will not harm me."

  She squeezed his hand tight, already feeling the intense heat searing the tender flesh of her palm. "But you can't. There's nothing you can do to keep the iron from burning me."

  Baelin's gaze flew to their joined hands, and then he straightened, hope lighting his features. "Perhaps there is."

  He tossed his cloak over his shoulder and spread his wing, prying off first one and then another scale from the underside. The muscles in his jaw clenched and, though he did not make a sound, she knew it hurt him to do it. It probably felt like having your fingernails ripped off one by one.

  "What are you doing?"

  Baelin handed her the two dragon scales. "Hide these within the folds of your gown. You must find a way to place them in your palms before you grasp the iron. They may shield you from the worst of it, but take care no one sees you do this. It would mean your death if it is known you possess them."

  Jill held the iridescent scales in her hands, a precious gift from the man she'd so recently betrayed. "Or it could mean your death if they find out they came from you."

  "'Tis a chance I am willing to take."

  The footsteps halted outside the door. She shoved the scales up her sleeves as the bolt was thrown back and light from the men's torches flooded the dark chamber. Her back stiff, she straightened her veil and turned to face them.

  Be brave. Easy for Baelin to say when he was safe on the other side of the wall.

  As the men ushered her out of the room, she cast one final glance over her shoulder to the tiny window, but he was no longer there.

  They led her up a wooden ladder and outside into the crisp morning air. After crossing the common area, they ushered her up the stone steps leading into the church. She'd traveled the same path back and forth for the past three days.

  She was shocked to find the church already filled with villagers. Apparently, there wasn't much in the form of entertainment for these people. They'd all come to watch her go through the trial. Jill touched the inner sleeve of her gown, taking small comfort in the concave shape of the dragon scale hidden underneath. She sent a silent prayer heavenward that she wasn't strip-searched before the ordeal began.

  Brought forward, she was forced to kneel on the cold stone floor. Her knees screamed in agony, bruised to the bone from kneeling hour upon hour in the same position, forced to pray for forgiveness of her multitude of sins and to prepare her soul for what was to come. After the first day, she hadn't seen the point in repeating the experience. She figured God got it the first time.

  Father Gerald walked to the altar and picked up a metal rod lying there. He turned back to the congregation and held it for all to see as the steward came to stand beside him.

  "My lady Donahue," Master William began, "you are hereby charged with the act of sacrilege against the Church. Have you prepared your soul for trial?"

  "Yes," she croaked. Her soul was prepared, but she didn't know if her body was.

  The steward nodded and stepped back as the priest carried the rod to a brazier set off to the side and held it over the fire.

  "Bless, O Lord God, this place that there may be for us in it sanctity, chastity, virtue, and victory, and holiness, humility, goodness, gentleness, and plenitude of law and obedience to God the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost."

  He dropped the rod into the glowing coals, sending red sparks dancing in the air above the brazier. Then the priest sprinkled the fire with holy water and the coals hissed like a snake about to strike. Jill felt her stomach roll and she would have collapsed in a puddle on the floor if she weren't already kneeling.

  The priest spoke again, saying a prayer over her for her doomed soul. "O God, the Just Judge, we humbly pray You to deign to bless and sanctify this fiery iron, which is used in the just examination of doubtful issues. If this woman is innocent of the charge from which she seeks to clear herself, she will take this fiery iron in her hands and appear unharmed. If she is guilty, let your most just power declare that truth in her, so that wickedness may not conquer justice but falsehood always be overcome by the truth. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

  Bring it on, Father. I can use all the help I can get.

  Then Father Gerald began giving a sermon about the three children who were tossed into the fiery furnace and survived. Jill looked from the man droning on before her to the glowing coals and back again.

  Please stop talking.

  But he didn't. He continued to lecture about the wages of sin, eternal damnation and the torments of hell. She looked at the brazier again.

  It's hot enough, she wanted to scream.

  He extolled the saving grace of God and the blessings of living a virtuous life, but she wasn't paying attention. She couldn't take her eyes off the rod shoved in the hot coals.

  Stop talking.

  But he kept rambling on and on. Was he going to let the rod roast through the whole sermon?

  Shut up, already!

  Finally, the priest ended his long-winded speech and to the altar to perform the Lord's Supper. Jill was surprised when he came to stand before her, offering her Communion. After three days of forced fasting, her stomach growled at the thought of one morsel of stale bread and the muffled rumble echoed off the stone walls. A few snickers erupted from the congregation, quickly shushed by others. She opened her mouth to receive the Sacrament, hoping she didn't drool on the man's hand.

  Father Gerald then offered Jill the cup of wine. She was tempted to grab it and chug the whole thing if it would numb her to what was to come. She prayed the whole congregation wasn't going to take Communion. At this rate, the rod would be a glob of molten metal before they got around to
the ordeal.

  The priest returned the cup to the altar, then paced off the floor, putting a mark on the stones indicating the nine steps she was to walk holding the rod.

  He pulled Jill to her feet and brought her to stand by the glowing brazier. The heat was intense just standing beside the coals. She whimpered, imagining how hot the metal bar would be.

  She looked around at the people in the church, their faces eagerly awaiting the moment of truth. She wanted desperately to find Baelin in the crowd. She needed his support if she was going to make it through this. She scanned each and every face until her eyes locked with his.

  He was there, off to the side in the front row, just as he said he would be. He stood tall among the others, his face tense, his eyes willing his strength to her. She tried to smile, to let him know she wasn't afraid, but the effort was too much.

  Father Gerald retrieved the rod from the coals with a pair of metal tongs and held it out.

  "My lady Donahue, if you are innocent of this charge, you may confidently receive this iron into your hands and the Lord, the Just Judge, will free you, just as he snatched the three children from the burning fire."

  Jill stared at the glowing metal rod.

  No! her mind screamed, every instinct within her balking at the insanity of what she was about to do. Jill let her arms drop to her sides and the curved scales hidden in her sleeves slipped into her palms. The simple sleight of hand would not have made Houdini proud, but she hoped it was enough to fool the people watching her. When no one cried foul, she breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

  She prayed it would work, that Baelin was right and the scales would keep her hands from receiving the third degree burns she was sure the metal would inflict without wearing NASA-grade asbestos-lined oven mitts.

  She kept her hands palm side down so the scales couldn't be seen. She cast one more look at Baelin, and then grabbed the red-hot iron the priest held out to her before she lost her nerve.

  Fire shot up her arm instantly and she bit back a scream.

  Nine paces.

  She could do this. Just put one foot in front of the other and go nine paces.

  The pad near her thumb and the ends of her fingers were burning where the scales didn't cover them. She gritted her teeth and kept going.

  Eight paces.

  Seven.

  She tried to keep herself from running. But the closer she got to the finish line, the hotter the rod got in her hands.

  Six.

  Five.

  Oh God, it hurt. It was as if she were holding a hot cast iron skillet with a worn out pot holder, the heat seeping in gradually until it felt as if she was grasping it with her bare hand.

  Four more steps.

  Three.

  The pain was shooting up her shoulder now, setting the nerve endings at the back of her head on fire. She didn't know if she could make it to the mark. The distance was so short but seemed like a mile away.

  Two.

  One.

  She dropped the rod and it clattered on the stone pavers, the metal already fading from pink to grey as it cooled. The charred scales fluttered to the ground, but she was too delirious from the pain to care anymore.

  Her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed, barely noticing the two strong arms that caught her before she could crumple on the cold, hard stones of the church floor.

  CHAPTER 13

  Baelin tried to suppress the sneeze coming on.

  He managed to succeed only to have his ears feel as if they exploded from the inside out. If someone passed by, they'd no doubt see smoke seeping out of them.

  He never hated the rain more than he did now. Since the trial, he'd stood outside in the elements, never daring to leave the place of Lady Jill's confinement should she awaken and call for him. But would she, even if she could? He'd sworn to protect her and he'd failed. Why would she rely on him now?

  As he sat by the small window, his ears strained for any sound from the woman within. She seemed to be resting peacefully now. But even if she were not sleeping, she would probably not speak to him. No doubt she hated him now, angry he'd not tried harder to save her from this fate.

  Perhaps she'd been right. Enraged at her deceit, perhaps there had been a small part of him that wished to see her punished for it. But no longer. After the trial, her cries of pain as she tossed and turned in her cell had nearly torn his dragon heart from his breast.

  But three days had passed. Three days with just as few words from Lady Jill.

  Baelin leaned his back head against the hard daub of the house and cursed himself. He'd risked both of their lives in giving her the scales, and for what? She had still suffered. Would that he could have spared her all of the pain. His only solace was that he'd been able to catch her as she fell, blessed oblivion stealing away the worst of her suffering. No one witnessed him retrieve the charred scales and hide them in his cloak as he cradled her unconscious form to his chest.

  The sext bells rang. Baelin tensed, knowing Lady Jill's guilt or innocence would be determined within the hour. If the outcome went poorly for her, he mentally prepared himself for what he must do. As much as he hated the thought of shedding innocent blood, he would do it if he must. If need be, he was prepared to slay every man in the village to save Lady Jill's life.

  He would not—could not—let her hang.

  Baelin sneezed again, this time unable to contain the force of it. A small fireball shot out, slamming into the side of the cottage across the way. For once, he was thankful for the rain—it kept the thatched roof too wet to catch fire.

  "Gesundheit."

  The softly spoken word drifting through the window startled him. "My lady?"

  "It means God bless you, for the sneezing."

  Crouching in the mud by the window, Baelin peered into the darkness of the room, but he couldn't see her. "How do you fare?"

  "As well as can be expected after being branded like a longhorn steer."

  He wasn't sure what a long-horned steer was, but she was speaking to him and that's all that mattered.

  "I am sorry you had to endure so much pain." He hesitated, searching for the right words, not quite certain what she would accept from him. "You were very brave. Braver than many a man I have seen put to the iron."

  "Thanks." She made a humorless chuckle. "You know, the really scary thing is this is a common enough occurrence that you've seen it happen before." There was a long silence from the within the room and Baelin wondered if she'd succumbed to sleep once more. "Baelin?"

  "Aye, my lady?"

  "Thank you…for staying with me, even after what I did to you."

  "I could do no less. I only wish I could have spared you all of it."

  An unladylike snort punched the darkness of her cell. "Well, you can't stop me from being stupid. As you said, I brought this on myself. It's the story of my life. I'm a walking mistake waiting to happen." He heard her heavy sigh. "Although it usually doesn't hurt this much."

  Mumbled voices came from within the house, followed by the thud of footsteps down the ladder to the cellar level. Baelin shifted out of sight as the door opened and two men entered. Lady Jill groaned and he imagined them jerking her to her feet with little, if any, gentleness.

  Baelin soon joined the other villagers in the church to watch as Lady Jill was ushered inside, looking pale and drawn. He willed her to glance his way so she might know he was there for her. She raised her head and looked about the church, her eyes finally locking with his. Gone was the fiery spirit and teasing laughter he'd come to know in them. Now they were hollow, the light in them perhaps forever dimmed.

  Be strong, my lady. 'Tis nearly over.

  She knelt before the priest. With the steward and his clerk standing to the side to oversee the verdict, Father Gerald grasped Lady Jill's arms by the wrists and held them up so all could see the stained bandages on her hands.

  He hardly heard the sound of the priest's droning voice as the man recited the beginning pr
ayer. Baelin's entire focus was on his lady.

  His salvation.

  When the prayer was completed, one of the village women stepped forward to unwrap the bandages from Lady Jill's hands. As the last strip of cloth dropped to the stone floor, the woman gasped. "'Tis a miracle."

  Both men approached to see what the woman was talking about.

  "This cannot be," the priest sputtered. "Why, I saw her stealing the statue with my own eyes. She must be guilty."

  The steward frowned at Father Gerald. "Then your eyes have deceived you, for the evidence proves otherwise."

  Pulling Lady Jill to her feet, Master William turned her to face the congregation. Standing behind her, he held her hands so the people could see them. Her palms were red, the fingers terribly blistered. But thanks to the scales, her hands were not nearly as burned as they might have been.

  "Let it be known to all that the accused's hands show no sign of festering, but are healing. By the laws of England and the divine judgment of our Lord God, it is the judgment of this court that my lady Donahue is proven innocent."

  Lady Jill closed her eyes and a single tear trailed down her dirty cheek.

  Baelin released the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding, relief cooling the sticky sweat trickling down his neck. His hand eased off the hilt of his sword and he offered up a silent prayer of thanks that he had not been forced to harm the innocent to save her this day.

  They walked for what seemed like hours before Baelin deemed it safe to stop for the night by the shore of a pristine lake. In reality, the sun wasn't even close to setting—if the sun could be seen behind the dark clouds overhead.

  Jill knew he was stopping for her benefit. She didn't care. Her pride was in shreds. She'd take pity now, any way she could get it.

  As he set up camp, the sound of lapping waves drew her to the lake's rocky bank. The thought of crisp, clean water beckoned to her. For days, she'd had nothing but murky sludge in a wooden bucket that looked as if it'd been used to clean stalls before they'd given it to her.