I spurred my horse, and found a large group of people that parted for the big beast coming up behind them. I slowed my horse as I broke into the circle. There were at least thirty people on their knees, staring at the ground with huddled bodies and tied hands, and in front of them, a man with a back of vicious red, bleeding stripes screamed as the whip struck down on his back again.
I leapt off my horse. “What is this?” I bellowed. “Who are you? What are you doing to these people?”
The victim collapsed against the whipping post as his torturer turned to me. Without words, the older man snapped his whip at me.
It cracked on the bit of my shoulder that ran into my neck, and I clamped down against the pain, twisting back as David jumped in front of me with his sword drawn. “Drop your weapon!” he roared.
“How dare you two interfere with my justice?” the man snarled.
“This looks nothing like justice,” I returned. The cut at my neck burned and I felt damp trickle on my skin. “I demand to know your name.”
“I am Lord Robert D’Oyly,” he snarled. “Master of Oxford Castle and the constable of this shire.”
“And why are you treating your people like this?” I stared around at the large, silent crowd, with eyes that wouldn’t meet mine, and wondered how the people could be so still as their loved ones were hurt. There were no other knights, no guards, just the people outnumbering this man and unwilling to act.
“They refuse to pay the tax. They will be punished for failing to serve the Crown!” He turned back to the quivering man in front of him, and raised his whip again.
“Stop!” I roared, running in front of him and pushing him back.
He dropped the whip and drew his sword fast, arcing it down at me. I dropped to one knee and drew my knives, crossing them to prevent his sword from crashing into my head. I pushed him off and jumped up, twisting and striking out with one knife and the next until he jumped back. David went behind me and untied the man.
D’Oyly swung again and I twisted as David helped the man up.
Boy. He were a boy, fifteen at the most. This tyrant had been beating a boy.
I bare knew my next moves. I swung my knives fast, furious, throwing him off balance and stepping in close beside him to drive my elbow under the blade of his shoulder, and he dropped his sword. I recoiled and drove my elbow into his face, and he dropped.
A noise grew louder, over the pounding of my heart. I heard the rattling metallic stomp of armored men. I backed away from him as knights came into the city center, and the people looked terrified. Well and truly terrified.
Walking through the knights were a man without armor, his hands clasped behind his back. His cruel, sharp face twisted into a familiar smile, redness flooding into his cheeks.
My heart froze.
“Lady Leaford,” Prince John snarled, his face mottled red with anger. “How nice to see you still alive. I had heard the very worst things about your fate.”
I stood still, my knives in my hands.
“And you,” he said, looking at David. “You look familiar.”
“It’s Lady Huntingdon now, Prince John,” I told him, trying to draw his attention back to me.
That worked. His glare were sharp and heated. “You’re mistaken. Huntingdon is mine,” he growled.
“Not anymore,” I told him. “Not according to King Richard. Who also saw fit to pardon me for that . . . misunderstanding between us.”
I saw his mouth tremble, his rage bare contained. “When you tried to kill me, you mean.”
“I think you know more about trying to kill people than I do,” I said, turning my knife in my hand. “When I try, I don’t fail.”
“You’re interfering with my justice again, Marian. You have a rather nasty habit of doing that.” He lifted his shoulders. “Come along. We shall chat in private.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” David snapped, a few feet away, watching D’Oyly, who had recovered his feet, and the knights too. Watching my back, as it were.
The prince chuckled. “I only wish, my lady, that you would let my vassal continue his task.”
I glanced at D’Oyly, wiping his mouth. “His task,” I repeated.
“Yes,” Prince John said cheerful. “These people won’t pay their taxes. They need to be reminded what fate lies before them if they fail to pay.” He looked at me, and I could see his thoughts coiling behind his eyes like a snake. “Unless you feel that they should not have to pay. That they should not help bring my brother home to his throne.”
“How do you know that they can pay?” I demanded. “If they can’t pay, it’s a failure of their lord, not the people.”
D’Oyly shrank back.
“I’m trying to inspire them, my lady. Isn’t that what you’re so good at?” he sneered. “Inspiring people to act? Even when it leads to their deaths.”
Hate pounded through my heart and it made me feel overstrong.
I could kill him. I could kill him right here.
I stepped forward and halted.
But how many others would die, would be hurt, in my wake?
I looked at the people—men, women, children bare old enough to have had their first kiss—waiting to be whipped. These people didn’t need my vengeance. They needed my protection.
“I won’t let you hurt any of them.”
He laughed, and his eyes glittered. “Fine, Lady Leaford, I’ll offer you a bargain. If you are so willing to stand for the people, then you can kneel for them as well.”
I leapt off my horse. “What is this?” I bellowed. “Who are you? What are you doing to these people?”
The victim collapsed against the whipping post as his torturer turned to me. Without words, the older man snapped his whip at me.
It cracked on the bit of my shoulder that ran into my neck, and I clamped down against the pain, twisting back as David jumped in front of me with his sword drawn. “Drop your weapon!” he roared.
“How dare you two interfere with my justice?” the man snarled.
“This looks nothing like justice,” I returned. The cut at my neck burned and I felt damp trickle on my skin. “I demand to know your name.”
“I am Lord Robert D’Oyly,” he snarled. “Master of Oxford Castle and the constable of this shire.”
“And why are you treating your people like this?” I stared around at the large, silent crowd, with eyes that wouldn’t meet mine, and wondered how the people could be so still as their loved ones were hurt. There were no other knights, no guards, just the people outnumbering this man and unwilling to act.
“They refuse to pay the tax. They will be punished for failing to serve the Crown!” He turned back to the quivering man in front of him, and raised his whip again.
“Stop!” I roared, running in front of him and pushing him back.
He dropped the whip and drew his sword fast, arcing it down at me. I dropped to one knee and drew my knives, crossing them to prevent his sword from crashing into my head. I pushed him off and jumped up, twisting and striking out with one knife and the next until he jumped back. David went behind me and untied the man.
D’Oyly swung again and I twisted as David helped the man up.
Boy. He were a boy, fifteen at the most. This tyrant had been beating a boy.
I bare knew my next moves. I swung my knives fast, furious, throwing him off balance and stepping in close beside him to drive my elbow under the blade of his shoulder, and he dropped his sword. I recoiled and drove my elbow into his face, and he dropped.
A noise grew louder, over the pounding of my heart. I heard the rattling metallic stomp of armored men. I backed away from him as knights came into the city center, and the people looked terrified. Well and truly terrified.
Walking through the knights were a man without armor, his hands clasped behind his back. His cruel, sharp face twisted into a familiar smile, redness flooding into his cheeks.
My heart froze.
“Lady Leaford,” Prince John snarled, his face mottled red with anger. “How nice to see you still alive. I had heard the very worst things about your fate.”
I stood still, my knives in my hands.
“And you,” he said, looking at David. “You look familiar.”
“It’s Lady Huntingdon now, Prince John,” I told him, trying to draw his attention back to me.
That worked. His glare were sharp and heated. “You’re mistaken. Huntingdon is mine,” he growled.
“Not anymore,” I told him. “Not according to King Richard. Who also saw fit to pardon me for that . . . misunderstanding between us.”
I saw his mouth tremble, his rage bare contained. “When you tried to kill me, you mean.”
“I think you know more about trying to kill people than I do,” I said, turning my knife in my hand. “When I try, I don’t fail.”
“You’re interfering with my justice again, Marian. You have a rather nasty habit of doing that.” He lifted his shoulders. “Come along. We shall chat in private.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” David snapped, a few feet away, watching D’Oyly, who had recovered his feet, and the knights too. Watching my back, as it were.
The prince chuckled. “I only wish, my lady, that you would let my vassal continue his task.”
I glanced at D’Oyly, wiping his mouth. “His task,” I repeated.
“Yes,” Prince John said cheerful. “These people won’t pay their taxes. They need to be reminded what fate lies before them if they fail to pay.” He looked at me, and I could see his thoughts coiling behind his eyes like a snake. “Unless you feel that they should not have to pay. That they should not help bring my brother home to his throne.”
“How do you know that they can pay?” I demanded. “If they can’t pay, it’s a failure of their lord, not the people.”
D’Oyly shrank back.
“I’m trying to inspire them, my lady. Isn’t that what you’re so good at?” he sneered. “Inspiring people to act? Even when it leads to their deaths.”
Hate pounded through my heart and it made me feel overstrong.
I could kill him. I could kill him right here.
I stepped forward and halted.
But how many others would die, would be hurt, in my wake?
I looked at the people—men, women, children bare old enough to have had their first kiss—waiting to be whipped. These people didn’t need my vengeance. They needed my protection.
“I won’t let you hurt any of them.”
He laughed, and his eyes glittered. “Fine, Lady Leaford, I’ll offer you a bargain. If you are so willing to stand for the people, then you can kneel for them as well.”
