The Execution

by Sharon Cramer

  Ravan flexed again.

  LanCoste moved, ever so slightly, but caught the eye of his younger friend.

  Ravan forced himself to steady his voice, “I am at your service. I will not fail you.” Then he stared acridly into the small eyes of his proprietor. “LanCoste stays or—this will not go well.” The intention of his statement was quite clear to all present.

  Adorno seemed thoughtful, as though he weighed his options, rubbing the satin of his gloved hand slowly across his hairless chin. He was accustomed to having his way, but possibly remembered the hideous sight of Ravan with the decapitated head entangled in his fingers. It was not likely that Adorno wished to be Ravan’s next trophy. He shrewdly seemed to recall the risk he was under, from those traitors who would kill him, and from this one—who very well could kill him. He curbed his mood and snorted. “Oh very well, but keep the beast away from me…he’s repulsive.”

  Ravan clenched his fists, angered that Adorno spoke of LanCoste as though the giant were not even present. Even so, he only replied, “As you wish.”

  “As you wish—your highness,” Adorno corrected him.

  At odds with the correction, Ravan tilted his head. His weight shifted forward, as though he would step towards Adorno. Adorno must have sensed it as well, for he involuntarily stepped backward, his eyes suddenly wide.

  It was a long, tortuous moment as Ravan paused and leaned his head back, his eyes narrowing. His mouth parted a bit but no words came from it, only the faintest hint of a snarl began to escape.

  Then, uncharacteristically, LanCoste stepped forward, perhaps recognizing that Ravan could only be pushed so far. The Giant knew him well and sensed his limit was dangerously close. Ravan feared nothing, least of all, death. His body was a map of scars from ‘close calls’.

  LanCoste answered for him, “Your highness—as you wish,” the giant’s voice rumbled. The matted tendrils of his beard hair swayed as he grabbed Ravan by the arm, steering him gently backwards in the direction of the door.

  It was a treacherous beginning and Adorno doubtless had no idea how much so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  †

  D’ata paused to scan the horizon behind them. He squinted, almost sure he'd seen someone, but when nothing showed itself, he resigned himself to the notion that they were momentarily safe.

  They’d finally reached the river and had been following it for about two hours, looking for a place to cross. Evening was approaching, chilly and gray. Julianne was fatigued, dozing intermittently as she sat the horse.

  D’ata glanced back frequently to check on her. He saw her head occasionally bob and worried that she would tumble from the animal. They were nearly out of food, and D’ata knew they must soon stop to rest and eat. She'd been stubborn, insisting they press on. He loved this about her, her fierce determination, but he also feared for her as their exodus had been grueling. D’ata felt the fatigue between his shoulder blades and knew that Julianne must be close to exhaustion.

  She refused to acknowledge this, her strong contention that she was ‘fine’ dismissing his concerns.

  They’d traveled for over a month now, staying away from human contact. They slept in the forests, laying on the saddle blanket, holding each other as they snatched sleep whenever they could. These were moments of terrible and wonderful re-acquaintance. They clutched at each other, warmed by their love and their passion, fueled by their fear and unwavering resolve.

  It was cold, and their food rations were scant. D’ata was occasionally able to barter work for food, and when desperate, he would steal. Yesterday, he’d taken some meat and grain from a smokehouse alongside a pig farm, but even that was now nearly gone.

  None of this mattered though. It was a beautiful thing to behold, the two of them reunited. The love they held for each other was a pure and holy thing, untarnished by hatred or resentment. They held no bitterness towards their families or the way the world refused to accept them. Even as they walked on, D’ata halted the horse, taking the time to remove from their path a tortoise lest the horse step on it. Such was their love for each other—kind, compassionate, and blissfully happy.

  Across the river, was the Territory of Naples. It was there that they planned their escape. Eventually, they wished to head south, to more temperate lands. Sicily, perhaps, and the warm waters off Gaeta. Then, they might secure a tiny slice of paradise somewhere, somehow, and live isolated from the rest of the world. Living in obscurity would mean they could raise their baby and be together.

  They talked of how they would grow old together and watch time create a mockery of their bodies as their love deepened into something more beautiful than any tangible thing on earth. This appealed immensely to them both, and they asked the help of no one, only that the world might ignore them and allow them their happy oblivion.

  D’ata sighed as a happy smile tugged at his young face. They had essentially nothing to their names, other than the horse and the clothes they wore. Except for the concern of their possible capture, he’d never experienced such happiness. It was then, as he glanced up and back at Julianne, that he saw the horses and riders on the horizon.

  “Julianne, wake up my love—quick now.” He tried to sound calm. Julianne jerked awake as D’ata shook her knee gently.

  D’ata was not certain they'd been seen, but it would not be long before the riders would overcome them. Across the river, the forest was thick and flush to the bank. If they could somehow find a way across, chances were good they could hide in the forest. It would be harder for the men to track them in the dense foliage. They could even abandon the horse and continue on foot. D’ata did not see dogs, and that was in their favor.

  “What is it, my love?” Julianne reached for him.

  “No—stay on the horse.” He urgently handed her the reins, “They’ve come for us.”

  “No!” Julianne looked back, scanning the horizon for the awful threat. “I don’t see anything!”

  “They’re there, I saw them,” he whispered.

  “What will we do?” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I will not be separated from you again! I won’t! Do you hear me? I won’t!”

  “We won’t—I won’t allow it. Try not to worry. We’ll get away, but you must listen to me.” He tried to maintain calm for her, but there was a dreadful urgency to him.

  She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. “Tell me what to do.”

  “We must cross the river.” Stepping upon a fallen tree, D’ata slid onto the horse behind Julianne. He urged the gelding along at a better clip.

  “Oh, D’ata, not so fast, it makes the baby shake so!”

  He reached around her belly to try to support the weight for her, but continued to push the horse faster. He knew their chances were not good. If they were caught, Julianne would be outcast forever and he would be sent away, possibly for execution by the church.

  Half an hour later, the river still roiled and they still had no access. The men drew closer. D’ata could hear their voices in the distance, and now he feared that they’d been seen.

  “D’ata, I don’t know how well I can swim. I have never been a very good swimmer—and my gowns...”

  “No, perhaps you cannot, but the horse can. You just have to hold on.” He looked behind again, as he spoke.

  “But, what of you? Can he carry both of us?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I am a strong swimmer,” He tried to smile. “I’ll make it fine and catch up with you in the forest.”

  “How will you know where I am?” Tears threatened again, and she tried to be brave. “What if we are separated?”

  “Trust God, my love. I found you once and I will find you again. I will know where and how.” He hugged her briefly, desperately afraid to let go.

  “They won’t chase us into Naples—If we are separated, go there. We just have to cross the river.” He lacked faith in his own argument.

  Julianne hung her head, her words came out as a whisper, “And if Go
d disapproves?” The tears fell from her face onto his hand.

  He turned her face gently toward him, “Then, there is no God.” D’ata kissed her cheek tenderly, his lips warm against the cold of her tear-streaked skin,

  Glancing back one more time, he urged, “Now we must cross.” He slid from the animal’s back and handed her the reins, then led the animal to the water’s edge. The river was swollen from the autumn rains, and cold. It was deeper and wider now, but not so fast. This was the best place to cross. The water was a murky brown and as D’ata stepped into it, he could not see the bottom, even in the shallows.

  “If you fall off or the horse panics, slide off his back and grab hold of his tail. He will tow you across just fine.”

  “And you?” Her quivering voice betrayed her worry.

  He looked up urgently as he peeled out of his jacket and shirt. Trying to downplay her concern, he attempted to put forth his best sense of security. “I swim like a fish.”

  She tried to display confidence as well. “D’ata—no matter what happens, I am not sorry. Do you hear? I’m not sorry for any of what we have.”

  “Don’t talk like that—we’ll be fine! His did not mention his other fear, the cold. The water’s temperature would pull the warmth from them almost immediately. They would have to get somewhere safe as fast as they could and build a fire.

  “Now hurry, my little sea maiden—across with you.” He refused to acknowledge his greatest concern, that they would make the swim just fine to be captured on the other side. He knew the gelding was strong and would carry Julianne easily across, but he could hear the men closing in on them. His intent, if it came down to it, was to allow his own capture and give Julianne the chance to escape.

  As the horse first entered the river, it pawed nervously at the water. Julianne shivered as the frothy spray drenched her legs. D’ata calmly urged the animal deeper into the water. “Get on there fellow, there’s a good boy.”

  It was a steady beast and calmed at the human’s voice, obediently working its way deeper into the river.

  “Hold tight my love, but let his head free once he loses footing and begins to swim. Grab onto his mane and let your body be towed freely,” he encouraged Julianne. And when you make the other side, do not wait for me.”

  “But–”

  He didn’t let her finish, “Don’t...wait for me. Do you understand?”

  * * *

  Julianne nodded, bravely urging the horse deeper into the swirling, muddy water, determined to make the other side. Her breath caught in her throat as the cold water advanced, slapping up her legs. Her skirts billowed up around her with trapped air and she pushed at them to sink them back into the water. The animal hesitated and tried to turn back. D’ata, at the head of the animal, now chest deep in the water himself, gently coaxed the horse deeper until, finally, he released the bridle.

  The horse shook its head but stepped off into the deeper water, lifting its nose, teeth bared as its eyes rolled wide. With one tremendous lunge, it lurched into the swirling depths, pawed viciously and settled quickly into a natural cadence of swimming.

  Julianne almost tumbled from the animal’s back but clutched at the mane and held on tight, righting herself. She freed the reins, giving the animal its head for it seemed immediately intent on reaching the other side and sure footing. As the body of the animal sank below the water’s surface, she held fiercely to its mane and the horse towed her easily, its stride strong and determined. She was amazed at how effortlessly the animal swam.

  Glancing back, Julianne saw D’ata swimming more slowly behind, being washed further down the river as he swam. He was strong, but not nearly as powerful as the horse.

  Just then came two horsemen. They charged over a grassy knoll and galloped down a steep slope and out across a small shelf of earth. Seemingly unconcerned, they plunged into the river at a treacherous part, with a small rapid. Amazingly, they both came out in tact, and one made directly for D’ata, the other for Julianne.

  She urged the horse on, “Come on, fellow, there’s a good boy,” she clucked softly and the horse’s ears quivered, satisfied with the encouragement, concentrating upon its task. It grunted as it swam, blowing froth from its nostrils as it drew deep breaths. For the first time, she believed they would make the other side.

  Further down the river, one horseman fast approached D’ata. From the corner of her eye, Julianne saw the altercation, saw the water turn white as the horse submerged and then came thrashing to the surface. For a moment, she didn’t see D’ata, then her heart leapt as she saw the horse swimming across with D’ata holding firmly to its tail. The attacker was swimming back to the other shore. She wanted to call out and cheer, but turned her attention back to the task of making it across.

  Julianne hadn’t see the other horseman, the one approaching her from the right. Swimming at a downstream angle, the man caught up with her fairly easy. They were better than half way across when the man reached her and snatched for the animal’s reins.

  “Don’t! You’ll make him afraid!” she screamed at the man, but he continued to grasp for the animal.

  Finally, he foolishly abandoned his own mount, pitching himself forward, clutching for the bridle of Julianne’s horse. This was a grave mistake for as he held tight, he plunged the gelding’s head below the surface of the water.

  Terrified, the horse panicked, breached, and turned belly up. Its forelegs thrashed violently at air and water, creating a frothing, foaming torrent of animal and river—with Julianne trapped beneath.

  * * *

  From the distance, D’ata watched in horror as the foolhardy man sabotaged Julianne’s safe passage. He saw her submerged beneath the surface as the panic-stricken animal arced and thrust backwards, over and on top of her. The water became a muddy foaming cyclone as the horse savagely flailed, trying to right itself and rid itself of the human that hung from its bridle.

  Julianne was nowhere to be seen.

  “No!” D’ata yelled and released the tail of his own horse. He swam furiously towards the catastrophe, his eyes searching furtively for Julianne. It seemed an eternity before he neared where she’d gone under the water. He caught the pale blue swirl of her skirts and saw a thin, white hand reach up from the water as she remained beneath the murky, swirling current.

  He swam violently, his lungs bursting, and searched furtively for her, turning around in place as he treaded water. The horse was again swimming for the other side, the assailant lagging behind.

  Just then, D’ata felt something brush against his hand. He dove, found nothing, and quickly dove again, grasping at empty water, clawing into the current until he felt cloth. He kicked hard, pulling the body to the surface. Julianne was limp, her face pale. “Hold on my love—hold on. I have you now, we’ll be all right,” he fought the current frantically.

  D’ata swam until his heart nearly burst, towing Julianne to the shore. At long last, his feet made solid ground and he lunged for the bank with Julianne in his arms. He staggered, collapsed on the bank and pulled Julianne to his chest, turning her pale, lovely face toward his...

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  †

  Ravan was seriously discontent.

  This placed LanCoste in a very troubling position. He watched Ravan closely for it was one thing to stand beside him on the battle field, but entirely another to see him languish at their current task.

  The disdain that Ravan adopted for Adorno was almost immediate, and LanCoste might have questioned whether Duval had made a wise decision to send them here. It didn’t help that there was little to do other than stand around and watch Adorno’s lunacy, with his maddening extravagance and gaudy excess.

  “You must do as you are commanded, Ravan,” LanCoste was uncharacteristically talkative. “Duval has his reasons. It is not for you to question.”

  They loitered together in a gallery, watching Adorno on the lawn, a soiree of some sort that did not invite close quarters with the bodyguards.

 
Ravan stood casually, with bow ready and arrow engaged.

  In reality, Adorno was not without considerable risk. He could certainly be killed—stabbed without notice, or suddenly bludgeoned over the head. The killer, however, would suffer immediate peril from the bodyguard who watched from a short distance away. All had seen Ravan practice and none denied his mastery at his art. His reputation spread quickly.

  “I am a soldier, not a nursemaid. Besides, he deserves to die,” Ravan replied matter-of-factly, nodding towards Adorno. Then, he muttered to himself, “And this keeps me from other things.” He looked down, idly digging the toe of his boot into the stone paver joint of the floor.

  “That is not for you to say. You are simply to follow orders.” LanCoste said it as though he somewhat doubted himself in the matter.

  “Don’t worry, my friend. I will follow my orders.” He glanced up and thought silently to himself, ‘the orders of my heart—and this keeps me from them.’

  However, it was only a short while before Ravan’s thoughts were preoccupied with Adorno’s bride-to-be.

  He watched her later that afternoon. She perched on a bench under an enormous sweet chestnut tree as though she preferred not to step into the light. Af first, he simply observed her, a necessary consequence of his boredom.

  As the hours drew by, however, even from the distance, there seemed to be something very odd about this woman, and as the event drew on, it made him strangely uncomfortable to observe her, and yet he must.

  Shifting his weight, Ravan considered the recent events at the castle, when she’d been present, and he was suddenly overcome with awareness of a pattern. Why did he suffer the need to notice her as of late? Almost compelled to watch her? Was it his imagination that she too noticed him?