by Jody Hedlund
At the base of the log, I skimmed along the rough bark until I brushed against Mitchell’s feet. He’d been stripped of his boots and his ankles were tightly bound. The ooze of blood at the rope bindings as well as along his feet told me the ride had indeed been torturous.
“Mitchell,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond.
Above the bindings at his ankle, I was surprised to discover his legs were bare except for his linen drawers. I drew back in horror at the realization that most of the tissue on his legs and thighs was raw and bleeding with deep cuts and wounds, raked open from being pulled over rough terrain.
I rapidly moved upward to gauge the status of the rest of his torso, only to find his chest was butchered too. The bloody flesh was coated with dirt and dust and pebbles. His arms were stretched high above his head abnormally tight, and his sockets were torn out of their joints.
“Mitchell,” I said again, my voice quavering. Christopher hadn’t been exaggerating after all. Mitchell was in terrible condition. Was he even alive?
I grazed his face. From what I could tell, his skin there wasn’t in such desperate straits. The angle of the log had kept his head from scraping the road. I trailed his cheeks until I reached his mouth, praying I’d find the breath of life.
A soft whoosh of air greeted my fingers.
“Thank you, God,” I whispered. He was alive.
Quickly, I slipped out my knife and sawed through the cord around his wrists. Once his arms were free, I lowered them onto his chest. In the process, he released a strangled cry. Without waiting to comfort him, I crawled to his ankles and sliced at the rope. By now, the guards surely had to be aware I was there. Were they allowing me to cut Mitchell loose before seizing me?
When the bindings fell away altogether, I caught him as he slid off the log, only to realize his back was just as torn and bloody. Gently, I laid him on the ground, and this time he whimpered like a wounded animal.
My stomach roiled with the need to be sick, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to proceed with what I’d come to do. We were seconds from a battle, and I needed to transfer him away from the enemy camp.
Before I could move him, he issued a guttural sound, as though attempting to speak to me. If Captain Theobald and his men hadn’t heard us before, they surely would now.
“It is I, Adelaide,” I reassured him softly. “We shall speak once we are safely away.”
“No,” he said more distinctly, his voice urgent. “Leave me.”
“Shhh.” I glanced at the shadows beginning to creep toward us. “Say no more.”
I attempted to lift him to a sitting position and slip my arm around his waist to help him to his feet. But even as I did, his anguished cries rose into the air and were followed by the shouts of Ethelwulf’s men surrounding me.
One of the guards thrust a torch at me, illuminating my face and at the same time casting light upon Mitchell. He was battered beyond recognition. In addition to the torn flesh, his body was riddled with bruises and burns. The skin around his eyes was puckered red and nearly swollen shut.
As he lifted his head toward me, only then did I realize his brown eyes were no longer there.
Captain Theobald had plucked them out.
My stomach roiled again, and this time I couldn’t stop the bile from rising. I fell to my knees in the grass and vomited.
Chapter
21
Christopher
From my hiding place, I counted two dozen soldiers congregating near Adelaide. That meant the others were lurking around, likely in hiding just as I was. My heart raced and my pulse pounded with the need to charge after her, carry her back into hiding, and force her to remain out of harm’s way.
As she fell to her knees, I pushed up and almost stood. Had she already been wounded? I nocked my arrow and aimed at the elite guard closest to her. We’d agreed to wait until our men had joined in the battle, distracting Theobald’s forces from noticing us as we rapidly picked them off. In spite of our plans, I’d shoot at anyone who attempted to hurt Adelaide, regardless of how it might affect my concealment.
Although the darkness shadowed Adelaide, the torchlight from one of the black-cloaked knights showed her heaving into the grass, sick to her stomach. I was surprised when the closest guard, a burly giant, offered her a scrap of linen and then gently aided her back to her feet.
Before I could make sense of what had happened to Adelaide or of the guard’s kindness, our men charged forward, some on horseback, others on foot, all with weapons drawn. Their shouts of fury echoed in the air.
My muscles tensed in anticipation of the skirmish. I aimed for the weak spot in the armor of the guard closest to Adelaide. With my bowstring taut against my jaw, I slackened my hold. But when the guard lowered himself to one knee, thrust his sword tip into the ground, and bowed before Adelaide, I lost all concentration.
Several more knights around Adelaide did the same thing. They dropped to their knees, planted their swords into the ground, and lowered their heads.
At the sight of the elite guards bowing in subservience to her, Adelaide shouted and waved her hands at our men. “Cease the attack! Cease the attack!”
More of Theobald’s knights surrounded Adelaide, kneeling before her in a clear act of goodwill and allegiance. I could only stare with slack bowstring and an open mouth. The other men in our group reined back, their war cries tapering to silence.
In that moment, I realized Adelaide had already won the hearts and loyalty of Theobald’s knights. They had no intention of raising their swords to fight against her. Rather, they respected her and wanted to serve her. And they were defying Ethelwulf as well as their captain to do so.
As if my thought of the captain conjured him, he suddenly appeared out of the shadows on his horse, a small band of his soldiers on their mounts behind him.
“You are all traitors!” he called to the rest of his army as they continued to kneel before Adelaide. At Theobald’s shout, the giant guard rose and stood beside Adelaide protectively, his weapons unsheathed.
“Mark my word.” Theobald glared disdainfully over the bent heads. “When I capture you—and I will—you will die a traitor’s death.”
Adelaide straightened her shoulders. Though she wore her battle armor, she was more beautiful and regal than any woman I’d ever seen. “Mark my word,” she replied, her voice ringing in the quiet of the morning. “When I have captured you—and I shall—what you have done unto my cousin shall be done to you.”
Like everyone else, I glanced at Mitchell’s mutilated body lying motionless in the grass. I could only pray that he’d blessedly passed out. Or died. At least then he wouldn’t have to experience any more suffering.
“After your refusal to accompany me to Delsworth peacefully,” Captain Theobald said in a cold voice, “I have no doubt the king will put a bounty on your head and ask for you dead or alive.”
My spine went rigid at the implication of the captain’s words. Before I could ready my arrow, the captain’s knife sliced through the air aimed directly at Adelaide’s throat. It flew with a precision and speed impossible to outshoot or outrun. Captain Theobald didn’t wait to see if he succeeded but instead shouted an order to his loyal followers to ride out. While I knew I ought to stop him with one of my arrows, I could only watch with helpless terror as the knife glinted in the torchlight, its sharp blade destined to kill.
“No!” I shouted.
The enormous guard who’d been the first to kneel lunged in front of Adelaide and spread out his arms to shield her. The knife slammed into his broad chest with such force that he toppled against her, and the two crashed to the ground.
Shouts erupted around us, but my thundering heartbeat drowned out everything save the need to hold Adelaide. I scrambled forward, jostling through the knights, desperate to be by her side. Even if she hadn’t been struck by the blade, the impact of the knight’s body landing upon her could have harmed her.
When I reached her,
the elite guard was already rolling away. She lay still and unmoving on the ground, her eyes closed. The knife had deflected off the guard’s armor and landed a short distance away in the grass. I shuddered with the realization that it would have impaled Adelaide’s throat if not for the quick reflexes of the guard. I would thank him and offer him a reward later.
As it was, I dropped to my knees next to her, felt for her breathing, and ran my hands over her head for any injuries. After a moment, her eyelashes fluttered up, and she expelled a breath. “I am unharmed,” she whispered. “Just stunned.”
My chest squeezed with gratefulness so overwhelming tears stung at the back of my eyes. Before I could rationalize my actions and stop myself, I lifted her into my arms, needing to feel her warmth, life, and strength and reassure myself she’d survived.
The giant guard hovered a moment longer before rising to his feet and once again resuming a protective stance next to Adelaide. Tall John also stood over us, but at the sight of Adelaide unharmed in my arms, he moved swiftly toward Mitchell.
I lowered my face against Adelaide’s head, my mouth near her ear. “For the love of the saints, Adelaide. Do not ever take such risks again.”
“Why?” she asked testily as she squirmed and attempted to free herself from my hold. “Because Mercia cannot afford to lose her queen?”
“No, because I cannot bear to lose the woman I love.” The words came out in spite of how reckless they were. However, the moment I spoke them, I knew them to be true—truer than anything else.
She ceased struggling and grew motionless.
I closed my eyes and fought the emotions drawing me to this woman. My duty to Mercia and the future stability of the country beckoned to me and demanded I let her go. I wanted Mercia to flourish, to succeed, to be at peace. And Adelaide was the key to that, wasn’t she?
Mitchell’s accusation about using Adelaide rose up to challenge me. Was I using her in my quest to rid Mercia of Ethelwulf? Pushing and driving her, regardless of all else?
I swallowed hard and in doing so let go of my need for Adelaide to be the savior. Being the savior was a burden too heavy for any one person to bear, and I could place it upon her no longer. I’d still encourage and advise and help her. But I couldn’t expect her to be the perfect queen at the expense of all else.
She would face many challenges in the days to come, and she would have to make many sacrifices. But she shouldn’t have to sacrifice everything that was important to her, including love. Although she hadn’t spoken of her love for me yet, she’d hinted at her feelings—or at least her desire to explore what was happening between us. Until I’d cut her off.
“Adelaide,” I whispered. For better or worse, I didn’t want to cut her out of my life. If she truly wanted me the same way I did her, then we’d find a way together to make a relationship work. Couldn’t we? “I love you more than I love Mercia. Your happiness and well-being are more important than anything else. And I am sorry for not understanding that sooner.”
At my apology, she seemed to melt in my arms, molding against me. She started to raise her arms around my neck when an anguished cry drew her attention.
“Mitchell.” She pushed up.
I reluctantly released her, knowing our conversation was far from over. But now was neither the time nor place to discuss what kind of future might lie between us.
Adelaide scrambled toward Mitchell and dropped to her knees beside him, opposite Tall John. Reaching for Mitchell’s hand, she tenderly brushed her fingers across his forehead. Then I noticed what I hadn’t been able to see from afar. Theobald had blinded him. While I had no doubt the loss of his eyes caused him pain, I guessed that what he suffered outwardly was only a fraction of the trauma his body was suffering internally. He likely had numerous broken bones and organ damage.
From the moment I’d seen him attached to the log, I’d known he wouldn’t survive. Captain Theobald had made sure of that. The captain was an expert at taking people to the cliff of death, holding them there, and then finally dropping them over.
My fingers went to my dagger with the need to end Mitchell’s agony. If I’d been in my brother’s place, I’d want someone to put me out of my torment. But at the sight of Adelaide’s compassionate ministrations, I withdrew my hand. She’d do everything within her power to save Mitchell. Even if her efforts were for naught and would only prolong his pain, she had to let him go in her own way and in her own time.
As angry as I’d been at Mitchell for locking me in the Wellmont dungeons and turning Adelaide over to Captain Theobald, only sadness remained now. Sadness he would die, just as my father had, with a huge rift between us. I’d believed my father was a spineless fool. It shamed me to remember the words I’d spoken to him the day I’d left home. “You are a traitor to the true king,” I’d spat at him. “I despise you for how weak you are and pray I shall never be like you.”
He’d stood inside the stable door as I’d finished tying my packs to my horse. He hadn’t responded except to lower his head. I’d assumed my words had brought him disgrace, that he couldn’t rebut my accusations.
Now I realized he’d lowered his head in sadness—sadness for a son who was so arrogant, ignorant, and stubborn. In my immaturity, I’d never guessed the depths of my father’s loyalty to Mercia and the extreme sacrifice he’d made for the kingdom by sheltering Adelaide. I hadn’t trusted him even though he’d always been the fairest, kindest man I’d known.
In part, Adelaide had become a great woman because of who my father and mother were. They’d lived and died with honor, and they’d raised Adelaide—raised all their children—to do the same, to be valiant and noble and good.
Even Mitchell.
My sights shifted to him again, to Adelaide’s loving caress against his battered face. If she could so easily forgive him for his betrayal, then how could I not follow her example and do the same?
The need to forgive and be forgiven pulsed through my chest. Maybe I hadn’t been able to make things right with my father, but I had the opportunity with Mitchell.
Heedless of the soldiers swarming around us, I knelt next to Mitchell. Adelaide’s touch must have soothed him, for he’d ceased thrashing.
“We must find a manor house nearby,” Adelaide whispered to me urgently. “Someone loyal to the house of Mercia who would be willing to give us aid and shelter for Mitchell.”
Words of caution immediately sprang to the tip of my tongue. We didn’t have time to delay. We needed to make haste in chasing after Captain Theobald. If we could eliminate the captain before he reached Delsworth, we’d send a clear message to King Ethelwulf that he wouldn’t so easily defeat us.
Before I could formulate a plan, Mitchell gasped and tried to sit up.
“Brother,” I said.
My voice drew his attention, and he tilted his head in my direction.
“I want you to know,” I started slowly, “I regret the way I parted with Father when I left Mercia. I was a fool to reject my family. I hurt all of you. And I am deeply sorry for that.”
While I could have left my home under peaceful circumstances and should have made an effort to stay better connected, I could not apologize for going. In God’s providence, I’d been meant to leave my home and country. Doing so had allowed me to amass a loyal following of dissenters while gaining an invaluable ally with the king of Norland. Both would be helpful to Adelaide in the days and weeks to come.
Instead of turning away from me, Mitchell nodded. I wasn’t sure what the nod meant, but I took encouragement from it and continued. “I do not deserve your forgiveness for my callousness and abandonment. But I would ask for it anyway.”
At my plea, Mitchell expelled a breath. For a moment, he was so still I was afraid he’d died. As if sensing the same, Adelaide brushed her fingers across Mitchell’s forehead again. Though her expression remained composed, her hand trembled.
Mitchell’s silence stretched, making the voices and barked commands of the other knights all tha
t much louder.
A heaviness settled over me. Mitchell had decided not to forgive me. I held in a sigh and then placed my hand upon his mangled arm. “I love you, Mitchell. And I always shall.” With that, I started to rise.
Before I could move away, his fingers captured mine in a surprisingly strong grip. “Love. You. Too.” His whisper was stilted and hardly audible. Then he squeezed my hand, and I knew he’d forgiven me.
A lump formed in my throat.
“Vow. You will. Protect. Adelaide. With your life.”
“I vow it.”
He attempted to lift his hand but the movement only caused him to tremble with pain.
I knew what he wanted, and I bent my head and kissed his hand three times to seal my vow.
At my assurance, he turned his sightless eyes toward Adelaide, his expression taut as though he was attempting to see her beautiful face one last time.
“I kept. My promise. To Mother.” His words were faint but distinct. “You are. Safe now.”
A tear escaped and slid down Adelaide’s cheek. “She would be so proud of you, just as I am.”
He gave the barest of nods. His expression was earnest as though he wanted to say more, but his body began to shake. He convulsed for several seconds and finally grew still. His chest ceased its rise and fall. His hand grew limp. And his head slipped sideways.
My brother was dead.
Chapter
22
Christopher
The familiar high, rocky precipices of Norland’s greatest seaport, Brechness, towered above the ship, the granite showing hues of rose threaded with lines of ebony. The bulk of the city sat on the cliffs, nearly impenetrable by the rock fortress that surrounded it.
