by Jody Hedlund
I lifted my head and finally glanced at my uncle and cousin. Though my uncle was attired in pristine white as usual, I could only see the blackness of his heart. It showed through his eyes and the cruel lines in his face.
Next to me, a stake had been erected along with a heap of rain-drenched logs and branches. So they were planning to burn me? I shuddered with a momentary chill at the prospect of slowly roasting to death. The wet wood would drag out the torture for hours.
Uncle bent until his face was mere inches from mine. “I expect that you’ll admit to the charges leveled against you, that you will clearly confirm your guilt to this multitude.”
“And why would I give you the pleasure of such a confession?” I lifted my chin and glared at him.
Edgar’s backhand and knuckles connected with my cheek. Pain erupted in my head, shooting through my face up into my temple. My mind flickered with the edges of blackness. If only he would hit me hard enough to knock me unconscious.
Edgar took a step back and gave me a cool smile. “My lord. You forgot to say my lord. Don’t neglect Lord Wessex’s title of respect again.”
Uncle cleared his throat. “I would like you to stand and face the crowd, and tell them all that you are indeed guilty of the crimes I have enumerated.”
I glanced then to the onlookers who surrounded the market square, the weary and worn faces of tradesmen, villagers, and even peasant farmers who’d assembled to witness my execution. They were strangely somber, their eyes sad, their shoulders stooped. In fact, many of the faces were creased with resentment, eyes slanted with anger.
These people held no love for Uncle. He’d done nothing to earn their respect and trust during the years he’d ruled them. With his high taxes and harsh retribution, he’d instilled nothing in them but fear and hatred.
They surely wouldn’t hold my crimes against me. In fact, I’d heard rumors that people admired the Cloaked Bandit for standing up to Lord Wessex.
Even so, they could not stop my death today. They were powerless to do anything against my uncle, not without bringing the same fate upon themselves.
I pressed my lips together. Uncle might be able to kill me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of answering for my crimes.
At a nod from Uncle, the soldier at my side yanked on the chain binding my hands together at my back and dragged me to my feet. I couldn’t keep a cry from escaping at the pain that ripped through my arms. The soldier forced me to turn and face the crowd.
Uncle hissed near my ear, “Confess your sins.”
“You may as well tie me to the stake first,” I murmured.
“I was afraid you’d be stubborn, just like your father.” He nodded at the group of soldiers who’d been guarding Bulldog and the other peasant men who’d been captured with me. The soldier grabbed one of the men and shoved him forward, toward a rack-like structure that had been crudely assembled near the stake. It was Jack, who’d been the judge the night of the archery contest. Several soldiers stripped him of his cloak and tunic and then wrestled him backward onto the boards, spreading his hands and feet and tying him down.
“For every minute of your delay,” Uncle said, “I shall disembowel one peasant.”
One of the soldiers had produced a sharp hook and raised it above Jack’s taut stomach, ready to plunge it deep inside and pull out his entrails—another cruel and painful method of killing.
The panic upon Jack’s face and the wildness of his eyes grabbed my heart with a panic of my own. “Stop!” I cried out. “Don’t hurt him!”
“Very well, Lady Juliana,” Uncle said with a nod to the soldier holding the hook. “What have you to say in regard to all the crimes that have been leveled against you?”
Once again I studied the faces of the people who circled the village green. Their hopelessness and wretchedness peered back at me. Suddenly, all I could think was that I’d let them down. I’d failed them. I, Lady Juliana, true master of the lands of Wessex, had failed to protect and provide for my people.
I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. What had I ever really done to help them? Sure, I’d provided safety to the most needy. I’d kept them from starving and from perishing in the cold. But none of my efforts had truly brought them the relief and freedom they deserved. My father had been nobler in his attempt to rise up and rebel against his brother. Yes, he’d failed, but at least he’d acted with integrity, and he’d had the courage to attempt something that could benefit our people. In comparison, my efforts seemed so futile and hopeless. If only I’d realized earlier that it never pays to fight evil with evil. But after watching my father die, I’d been consumed with bitterness and had allowed it to lead me astray from what was righteous and pleasing to God.
Now all I could hope for was that Bulldog and the other men would die free of torture, that they would meet their Maker as painlessly as possible.
I straightened my aching shoulders and let the wind bite my bruised cheeks and whip my tangled hair. “My good people, I am guilty of all the crimes of which Lord Wessex has spoken. I have stolen money and jewels. I have destroyed caravans and taken riches that did not belong to me. I have hunted on forbidden lands. And I have poached countless game.”
My confession rang out clear and loud across the marketplace. Even the children peering from the open windows of overhanging, two-story shops stared at me with wide, sad eyes.
“Thank you, Lady Juliana,” Uncle said with a satisfied smile that crinkled the uneven skin of his face.
I shook off the hand of the soldier holding my arm. “I only regret that I didn’t do more to ease your suffering,” I called to the crowd, defiance shooting into me. “You have not deserved this cruelty that has befallen you, and I shall breathe my last in the prayer that somehow, someway, God will give you relief from your suffering.”
Angry, discontent murmurs rose in the air. From behind, Edgar gave me a shove that sent me stumbling forward, toward the stake.
“You have heard Lady Juliana’s guilt,” Uncle called out above the growing clamor. “She has confessed with her own lips crimes too numerous to recount.”
The soldier wrenched me against the wooden pole.
“And for her crimes,” Uncle shouted, “she is hereby sentenced to be burned to death at the stake.”
Chapter
16
The rope bit into my wrists, and slivers from the stake dug into the tender skin of my arms. The soldiers had made quick work of piling the wet wood around me. Uncle had called in more guards to stand along the edges of the crowd, and had even resorted to beating several men who’d protested too loudly.
Bulldog stood with the others not far away, his stocky head down in defeat. Some of the guards were building a makeshift scaffold.
I had no doubt that while I was slowly roasting to death, my uncle planned to hang each of my companions one by one right before my eyes. At least I could console myself that the men would die quickly, without much pain or humiliation—unlike myself.
A guard approached the stack of wood with a blazing torch. I squared my shoulders and held my chin high. I would face death with dignity and show my uncle that while he could defeat my body, he couldn’t defeat my spirit.
“Wait!” came a distant shout.
The soldier carrying the torch stopped and spun in the direction of a group of men riding through the town gates, wearing armor and outfitted with swords.
“Release the prisoners,” came a shouted command in a voice that resembled Collin’s, only much harsher and fiercer.
My uncle and cousin were now reclining in plush chairs that had been placed in the center of the green, where they were sipping wine and watching the proceedings. At the sight of the company of men, they both stood. Edgar issued a call to their retinue of well-trained soldiers, who immediately raced to surround the newcomers.
I strained to see through the armor and milling of men on horses, their swords raised and ready to fight if needed. One of the knights pushed through the circle
of bowmen, knocking them aside as easily as dry wheat stalks. He deflected several arrows with his shield and slashed the hemp string of many more bows, rendering them useless.
When the knight reared his horse and charged in my direction, my heart gave a wild leap. Even though the knight’s face was hidden by his helmet, Collin’s green eyes sought me from the slit in the visor.
My knees gave way, and I would have slid down the stake had my hands not been tied tightly enough behind me to keep me in place. I didn’t know how he’d discovered my capture; all I cared about was that he was there.
If anyone could save me and my companions, surely Lord Collin Goodrich could.
“Release Lady Juliana this instant,” he yelled, cutting down another of Uncle’s soldiers who came at him.
Uncle and Edgar exchanged glances, almost as if they’d been expecting Collin.
“Good evening to you too, Lord Collin,” called Uncle. “It’s nice to see you again after your unexplained absence.”
Collin sidled his steed near them. “You’ve overstepped your bounds. You’ve arrested and taken into captivity innocent people.”
Uncle’s brow shot up. “Innocent? I hardly think one can call Lady Juliana innocent.”
“She’s done nothing but help the hungry and impoverished who have suffered as a result of your harsh hand. If she’s guilty of any wrongdoing, then surely you and I are even more so because of our callousness.”
“She very well could have brought her complaints before us in a peaceful way,” Edgar said, then took a sip from his goblet. “Instead, she resorted to stealing.”
“Have you not stolen this land and this estate from her?” Collin countered. “And have you not stolen from the people when you demand more taxes of them than they can pay?”
I wanted to shout my agreement, but at the arrival of more armed Wessex soldiers on the outskirts of the crowd, I realized Uncle was well-prepared for any objections to the public execution. His small army would soon surround and outnumber Collin and his men.
“This estate is rightfully mine. I have a letter from my father that proves it.” Uncle pushed back the white hood of his cloak to reveal his scarred face. “Besides, my brother is dead. And now Lady Juliana is a criminal and unfit to lead.”
“In your opinion, she’s unfit merely because she’s alive and poses a threat to your rule.” Collin’s tone was as unyielding as his armor.
Edgar’s lips curved into a half smile, one I’d learned only masked his anger. “You’re too bold, Lord Collin. You’d be wise to return to your land and let us handle our own problems without interference.”
“You made it my problem when your sheriff unlawfully took two of my most loyal servants.”
My stomach swirled with fresh revulsion. I didn’t have to deliberate long to figure out which servants Uncle had taken to glean information about me. Mistress Higgins and William were the only two with whom I’d had any significant contact.
“What other choice did you give us when you were deliberately shielding a criminal who has been perpetrating violence and civil disobedience upon our land?” Uncle surveyed the perimeter of the village square. Collin did likewise.
Uncle had always had a strong army, and now they stood in formation, ready for combat. Collin was certainly in no position—no matter how experienced he was—to take on the army with his small band of soldiers.
But if Uncle’s army unnerved Collin, he didn’t show it. “Let Lady Juliana go,” he demanded. “Now.”
“I will release your two servants, but you have no claim over Lady Juliana.”
Collin’s fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. He shifted in his saddle, his body taut, almost as if he longed to start a battle at that moment. But when his gaze connected again with mine over the piles of logs surrounding me, there was a desperation in his eyes that belied his strength.
Would he be unable to secure my release after all? My heart quivered. Part of me demanded that I accept the consequences of stealing and breaking the law. I’d known it was wrong, but I’d tossed aside the niggling guilt and told myself that whatever I did couldn’t compare with the atrocities Uncle had committed.
But the other part of me yearned to be set free. Even though I’d lived recklessly and dangerously, I wasn’t ready to die yet. Not until I had the chance to do more to truly set my people free, this time the right way.
“She has committed many crimes,” Uncle said. “And if I don’t punish her, I will only send the message to my people that they too can perpetuate transgressions and go unpunished. Such a stance is surely the forerunner to facilitating more depravity and sin.”
“You will send the message of mercy and kindness,” Collins retorted.
Edgar gave a scoffing laugh, and Uncle narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes leaders must execute judgment that serves a purpose for the greater good of everyone.”
“For the greater good of you.” Collin’s words throughout his confrontation had drawn nods and murmurs of assent from the gathering. “Only you stand to gain anything by Lady Juliana’s death.”
“Enough!” Uncle’s voice rose above the din of the crowd. “She has been sentenced to die, and there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to change that.”
“You don’t have any evidence against her, just the words of my two servants and a helpless young peasant boy. And that’s not enough to condemn her to death.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Lord Collin.” Uncle’s lips curved into a tight smile. “This entire assembly has witnessed Lady Juliana confess her offenses with her own lips. She has readily admitted to the long list of grievances against herself.”
I gave an inward groan. I’d played into Uncle’s hands, had done exactly as he’d hoped. And now that I’d confessed to the crimes, I surely must pay. What other choice did I have?
Collin was silent as if recognizing the futility of negotiating any further with my uncle. The only way he could free me was by brute force, and if he attempted anything, he would be overpowered and cut down swiftly.
Uncle motioned to the soldier holding the torch, and the young man turned back to the wet wood that surrounded me. Defeat swept over me. If only I’d stayed the course my father had set out for me. If only I’d refused to lower myself into a lifestyle of sinfulness and stealing.
“If someone must pay for Lady Juliana’s crimes,” Collin called out, his voice tinged with panic. “Then I give you myself.”
My head shot up.
The torchbearer once again hesitated in front of the wood, turning to Uncle for his instructions.
“I will die in her place,” Collin called.
“No,” I said quickly. “I’m guilty. I’m the one who deserves death. Not you.”
“If you release her”—Collin stared pointedly at Uncle, clearly ignoring me—“then I will allow you to bind my hands and tie me to the stake in her place.”
“No!” I cried. But the gasps and shouts from the crowd drowned out my protests.
Uncle and Edgar exchanged glances as they’d done before. And something about Edgar’s sneer sent alarm bells clanging in my soul.
“And you must release the peasant men, along with my two servants,” Collin added. “If you set them free with Lady Juliana, I will hand myself over to you without raising a hand to defend myself.”
The clamors of surprise among the crowd had grown louder.
Across the distance, among the peasants awaiting their hanging, Bulldog had lifted his head, and for the first time since we’d arrived at the castle something sparked in his eyes.
When his fierce gaze met mine, I knew he would support Collin’s plan, that he would be of no help in stopping Collin from taking my place. I shook my head at Bulldog, hoping he would see my eyes pleading to put an end to the foolishness.
But he only pursed his lips in silence. He would say nothing. His eyes said it all—he was determined to free me, and he didn’t care if Collin had to die for that to happen.
U
ncle and Sir Edgar argued in hushed tones for several long moments before Uncle finally lifted his hand for attention. Slowly, silence descended over the crowd.
“Very well, Lord Collin,” Uncle said with a satisfied smile wrinkling his cheeks. “If you’re willing to give up your life for Lady Juliana’s, then we shall count that as full payment for her crimes.”
“And those of her friends,” Collin demanded, nodding at Bulldog and the others.
“Yes,” Uncle replied. “We shall set them all free, as long as they agree to move off Wessex and never step foot on my land again. If they ever return, I shall consider them in breach of our agreement and shall kill them on the spot.”
“Take her to my land, to my home,” Collin called to Bulldog. “You’ll find refuge there.”
Bulldog gave a curt nod. But everything within me rose up in protest. I wanted to scream, but my lungs pinched. Collin’s action would not only save me—he was offering me a way to save all my friends. His one life for many. How could I argue with that?
“If you throw down your weapons,” Uncle said to Collin, “then I shall start releasing the peasants.”
For a moment, Collin conversed with his men, his voice rising in clear disagreement with theirs. Finally, amidst their protest, he dropped his sword, then he threw down his knives along with his bow and arrows.
Even though I couldn’t argue against saving the lives of my many friends, my chest constricted with anguish. I wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself for me. The truth was, I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want him to die. Not for me. Not for anyone.
“Let my companions go,” I cried, “but keep me! I won’t let Lord Collin take my place.”
Collin reared on his steed again, letting the horse raise its hooves high in the air and push back the soldiers that had been crouching closer to him. “I must see Lady Juliana and these peasant men released safely outside the town gates before I dismount.”
