by Jody Hedlund
Already one of the soldiers had begun to twist at the knot binding my wrists. Within seconds he’d freed my hands and legs from the confines of the stake. I stumbled through the wood pile and collapsed to my knees. I didn’t care that tears were streaking my cheeks or that I was begging.
“Please! I’m the only one who deserves death. Let the others go.”
But Bulldog had also been loosened from his binding, and he charged toward me. He grabbed my arm and forced me back to my feet. “Let’s go. Now.”
I tried to wrench free of his grip, but he jerked me forward. I struggled against him until finally, with a low snarl, he grabbed me and hefted me so that I dangled over his shoulder. The crowd of townspeople had parted to allow us to escape. The other peasant men raced forward, casting anxious glances over their shoulders as though expecting Uncle’s soldiers to chase after them and lock them back up.
Bulldog trotted after our companions, his grip like iron, unrelenting in his determination to put as much distance between me and my uncle as he could. Silent sobs choked me. I could hear Collin ordering his men to escort us to his land and to keep us safe there. When I lifted my head and swiped aside a tangle of curls, I sought out Collin. A sad good-bye radiated from his eyes . . . and something else I couldn’t quite define.
Then, while he was caught off guard watching me, one of Uncle’s guards swung a pike against Collin’s head. The force of the blow knocked him backward. In an instant, he fell from his horse into the thick of the guards, who lashed out at him with vicious kicks and punches.
Their shouts and cheers tore at my heart. I thrashed against Bulldog, knowing I had to go back and help Collin. But my friend wouldn’t release me, and all I could do was weep with an agony I’d never known before.
Chapter
17
I knelt in the damp leaves, my head bowed low and cradled in my hands. Gratefully, the others had left me alone in my misery. And now the darkness of the night shielded me from their prying eyes.
The men were too busy rejoicing at being reunited with their wives and children. And they were eating from among the provisions Collin’s servants had brought out to them after we’d arrived on Goodrich land several hours ago.
“O Father in heaven, forgive my trespasses,” I whispered, rocking back and forth. My eyes burned, my throat ached, and my entire body keened with such longing, I wanted to cry. Except that I’d already shed all the tears I could, and now I had none left. I’d prayed all the prayers I knew, and now I could only kneel before God, speechless, broken, and empty.
The soft laughter of the families gathered around blazing fires beckoned me to return to the camp. But the sight of the mound of warm blankets, the piles of fresh food, and the assortment of supplies they would need to start new lives only mocked me.
And reminded me of Collin and the wonderful man he truly was.
Although Collin’s men had left him reluctantly, each one had obeyed his orders to escort us. They’d accompanied us to our cave homes, helped us retrieve the women and children and any supplies we could salvage, and then had delivered us safely to the forests of Goodrich land.
Not only that, they’d brought wagonload after wagonload of supplies to us, according to the direction Collin had given them before his capture. Collin had assured our well-being and had obviously been planning all along to bring us to safety upon his land.
“Oh, Collin,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
How could I have ever believed him to be mean and uncaring? I’d been wrong to lump all noblemen together in the same category as Uncle. I’d wanted to blame someone for all the heartache that had befallen me and my father, and it had been all too easy to point the finger at the nobility.
But Collin had proven that the problems didn’t belong to one class of people. He’d shown himself to be a good and decent man—not perfect, but certainly willing to learn and change. He’d shown that nobility could use their power to bring about good for the people just as easily as the nobility could use their power to crush and destroy.
And now he was dead because of me.
I rocked back and forth again, my head pounding with the horror of what he’d had to endure on account of me: the hours of slow roasting, of tortured agony. I wanted to die at just the thought of it.
A thumbless hand upon my back halted my inner torment for a moment. “Juliana,” Bulldog whispered. “Come and eat.”
He hadn’t joined the others either. He’d sat apart from them, watching me.
I knew he was still grieving over Thatch. We hadn’t found a trace of the boy when we’d searched the land surrounding our homes. Bulldog had finally given up hope of finding the body. I’d known, as he had, that some wild animal had likely dragged the lifeless body away into the depths of the forest.
“You need to have something,” Bulldog said gently, patting my back awkwardly in an unusual show of affection.
“I’m not hungry.”
He sighed, the breath long and weary. For a moment, he stood behind me. Then his hand fell away from my back, and the crunching of his footsteps told me he’d gone back to his lonely spot.
Part of me longed to go to him, to offer him comfort, which he needed just as much as I did. I ought to reassure him I wasn’t angry with him for dragging me away from Collin. He’d done the right thing, even if I’d resented it at the time.
The truth was, there was nothing any of us could have done to save Collin.
“O Father in heaven,” I cried into my hands again. My heart wrenched with the awfulness of all that had happened. And losing Collin was the worst part.
I finally had to admit—although I hadn’t known him long, it had been long enough to know he was the kind of man I could have loved.
And now I’d lost him.
My chest tightened. Even more painful than the knowledge that I’d missed out on loving him was the realization that he’d sacrificed his life for me . . . even though he’d believed I held no love for him. He’d given up his life for me in spite of the fact that I’d rejected him, his love, and his proposal of marriage. He’d willingly taken my place at the stake even though I’d sent him away.
A sob rose from deep inside me. I’d been a fool to spurn him.
And now I’d never have the chance to admit to him what I’d been denying—that I was falling for him, that I wanted the chance to make things work between us . . .
I sucked in a deep breath of the cold night air. The frigidness penetrated my lungs and mind.
What if I attempted to atone for my past mistakes by fighting against Uncle the right way? What if I rallied the people throughout Wessex to rise up in revolt as my father had done? Maybe my father hadn’t been able to defeat Uncle through his rebellion, but at least he’d taken a stand against the cruelty.
The people were ready. I’d seen it in their faces earlier when they’d gathered to watch the executions.
A call from the camp broke into my thoughts. I sat up and wiped my dirty hands across my eyes. There, on the fringe of the gathering, outlined in the glow of the firelight, was one of Collin’s soldiers. He slid from his mount and glanced around, obviously searching for someone.
“Lady Juliana?” he called.
At the note of urgency in his voice, I pushed myself off the ground and moved from the dark shadows of the woodland into the reaches of the firelight.
“I am Lady Juliana,” I said, speaking the title I’d loathed for so many years. It was time to finally acknowledge what I’d tried to ignore, tried to destroy. The fact was, no amount of disguise and no amount of denial could change who I was, the person I was born to be.
“Lady Juliana.” The soldier bowed toward me. Then upon straightening, he nodded at Bulldog, who’d taken his place at my side.
“What tidings do you bring?” I asked, noticing then that the soldier was breathing just as hard as his mount. He’d obviously made haste to find me.
“I have both good news and bad,” he blurted.
“Do not spare me,” I ordered. “Tell me everything you know.”
“The good news is that Lord Collin is still alive.”
My knees turned as weak as a willow branch. I would have collapsed had Bulldog not snaked his arm around my waist and held me up.
“Thanks be to God,” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes. I swallowed hard, pushing down a sudden relieved sob. Instead, I forced myself to rise to the leadership role that this soldier expected. “For how long has his life been spared?”
“We’ve just received the missive that Lord Collin is to be drawn, hung, and quartered in two days’ time.”
“Two days.” The words sent a charge of energy through me. “Two days isn’t long, but it’s better than none.”
“Don’t even start thinking of trying to stop Lord Wessex,” Bulldog groused.
I pulled away from my friend. “How can I do anything less? I’ll find a way to rally the people to rise up and fight.”
Bulldog shook his head. “You heard the lord. He’ll kill anyone who steps a foot back into Wessex.”
“We’ll arm the townspeople and everyone throughout the countryside,” I continued, ignoring my friend’s scowl and the silence of the others. “If we rise together, we can fight against my uncle and put an end to his brutal reign.”
“You’ll only face the same fate as your father.” Bulldog spat the words.
“Then at least I’ll have done something noble for once in my life.”
My impassioned words silenced him. Collin’s soldier watched me, admiration lighting his face. I would call upon Collin’s men to help too. Surely with their training and weapons, we could work together to bring down Uncle.
“And what of the bad news?” I asked, my mind already at work, the weariness suddenly gone.
“Lord Edgar has claimed Lady Irene as his betrothed,” the soldier replied. “They are to be married immediately after Lord Collin’s execution.”
The news brought a deathly silence over the camp.
Upon Collin’s death, Lady Irene would inherit the vast Goodrich estate. And through the marriage, my cousin Edgar would become master of the Goodrich land and wealth. That meant none of us would be able to take refuge on Goodrich land. The supplies Collin had arranged for us would be cut off. And if Edgar had persecuted us before, surely he would resume.
At the somber expressions of my men, I knew they’d come to the same conclusion.
An unsettled thought came to me. Had Uncle used me as bait to draw Collin into his grip? Had he realized that if he captured me, he could control Collin? After all, what did it matter if I died? I had nothing. But Uncle stood to gain so much more if Collin were eliminated.
I straightened my shoulders, not caring that my tangled hair hung about my face in a wild disarray. “The news of the betrothal is all the more reason to rise against Lord Wessex.”
Bulldog grunted, but I was relieved when he didn’t voice any further protest. I needed his support. The men were much more likely to follow me if Bulldog was at my side, leading the way with me.
The clatter of branches and leaves signaled the approach of another rider. This time as the horse broke through the foliage into the clearing where we’d set up camp, Bulldog pulled his knife and the other men followed suit.
We were no longer safe, and we all knew it.
At the sight of the Goodrich coat of arms upon the new arrival’s armor, the tension eased from my muscles. Through the darkness, I could see the outline of a boy on the horse behind the soldier.
Bulldog started. “Lord God Almighty be praised,” he whispered in a voice thick with emotion. Then he bolted forward, throwing himself at the boy.
My heart sped in recognition too. “Thatch?”
A head peeked from behind the soldier, the wiry hair standing on end and poking out in every direction.
A lump lodged in my throat. When Bulldog eased the boy off the horse and gently lifted him into his arms, I wanted to sink to my knees in relief.
Bulldog kissed his son’s forehead. Tears streamed down the hardened man’s face, falling onto the boy.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Thatch croaked, his own tears making trails down his bruised cheeks. “I never meant to betray everyone—”
“Hush now, boy.” Bulldog carried him as tenderly as a baby. “Don’t say anything more about it. We’re all safer now than we’ve been in a long time.”
I didn’t contradict him. Now wasn’t the time.
Thatch strained his head, glancing around the camp in search of someone. “Juliana?”
I swiped at my cheeks and then stepped further into the firelight where he could see me. “I’m here.”
Bulldog swerved toward me.
The boy’s eyes again flooded with tears. He started to reach a hand out to me, but stopped. Someone had bandaged his arms and hands in clean cloths and tended his wounds, but even so, the grimace on his face indicated the pain the movement brought him.
“Juliana,” he whispered as Bulldog brought him closer—close enough that I could see the bend in his nose where it had been broken. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“This isn’t your fault.” I laid a gentle hand upon his bandaged one. “My uncle was bound to find us sooner or later. We couldn’t go on the way we were forever.” I spoke the words more to Bulldog than Thatch.
“But if I hadn’t run off and been so reckless—”
“I’ve always been the reckless one and haven’t set a good example for you. And I’m deeply sorry for that now.”
They boy’s eyes reflected a sadness and maturity that hadn’t been there before. “I was wrong about Collin.”
“Say no more,” Bulldog said, starting away from me toward the blankets.
“Wait!” Thatch protested. “He rescued me. He brought me back to his home and cared for me even though he was anxious to rescue Juliana.”
Bulldog stopped.
“He’s a better man than most,” Thatch spoke passionately. “If not for him, I’d be dead.”
The light and shadows from the fire flickered across Bulldog’s face, revealing both his fierceness and vulnerability at the same time. Thatch didn’t say anything more. He closed his eyes, weariness making his features sag.
I worked with Bulldog to make a bed out for Thatch of the blankets. We made him as comfortable as possible before sitting back on our heels.
“We have to try to rescue Collin,” I said.
Bulldog shook his head and stared straight ahead at the flames. “We can’t put everyone at risk for one man.”
“But he saved me.” I didn’t care that I was pleading. “And he saved Thatch.”
Bulldog gazed at the boy, his eyes radiating with relief and love.
“It’s time to finish what my father started,” I said, knowing deep in my heart that was what he would have wanted. Even if I died in the process, we needed to stand up to my uncle once and for all. “We have to stop hiding away. And we have to stop blaming the wealthy for all the problems. Our tactics haven’t been fair.”
Bulldog smoothed his thick fingers across Thatch’s peaceful, sleeping face. “If we cross over into Wessex, we won’t return alive.”
I merely nodded. Uncle had ensured Collin’s death by forbidding us from coming back onto Wessex land. He’d thought to keep us from attempting a rescue. But my uncle obviously didn’t know me well enough to realize I’d do what I wanted regardless of his bargain with Collin.
Whether Bulldog came with me or not, I was going back. “I’m ready to die.”
“I’m not sure that I’m ready to let you.” His voice was a desperate whisper.
“You’ve fulfilled your promise to my father. You’ve kept me safe. You’ve brought me to adulthood.” I reached for his maimed hand and squeezed it between mine. “But now it’s my turn to do what’s right. To stand up against Uncle. And to sacrifice my life so that no one else has to suffer like Thatch.”
Bulldog’s fingers tightened around mine as if he didn’t want to let
me go.
“Don’t you want more for Thatch? Don’t you want him to have a better life?”
Bulldog didn’t respond.
I pulled away from him and stood. I tugged up the hood of my cloak and then checked to make sure knives were strapped at my waist. “I’m leaving. Now. And I’m riding throughout Wessex to rally the people behind me. I’d be honored if you’d ride with me.”
He stared at the fire, the muscles in his jaw flexing.
I spun and stalked toward Collin’s men, who were still waiting on the fringe of our camp. My heart banged with each step I took away from Bulldog. I wanted his help, but I would fight my uncle and rescue Collin regardless.
A menacing rumble from behind me brought my footsteps to a halt.
“I’m eating first before we leave.”
I smiled, and relief blew through me. But I wiped the smile off my face and tossed Bulldog a glare that was mingled with all my affection. “You better hurry up.”
He grunted.
“We have two long days ahead of us.”
Chapter
18
MY BACK WAS SCRAPED RAW, MY flESH OPEN AND BLEEDING. The tendons in my legs were stretched beyond endurance, the skin of my ankles rubbed off where the ropes had bound me, and my head felt like it would explode.
I was conscious only because I’d strained to keep my head from bumping the rocks and cobblestones as the horse had galloped through town, dragging me behind by my legs with my body bumping along behind.
And now, at the center green, I blinked away the threatening blackness.
I was already weak from hunger and lack of water from my two days in the dungeon. Lord Wessex had offered me nothing but the tip of his guards’ boots. Every time they’d come to check on me, they’d kicked me senseless.
My swollen tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. And as one of the guards kicked me again, I didn’t have the strength to even moan.
“Get to your feet,” came the harsh command.
I rolled over and struggled to push myself up. Every muscle and bone in my body screamed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the scaffolding where I was to be hung.
