Passions - Healing Passion Part 10

He found the squire sitting up in bed, complaining about the thin beef soup a servant spooned into his mouth. Seeing that, Thomas felt confident, for the first time since his injury, of Ralf's full recovery.

"You need the strength that soup will bring you," he told the irritated young man.

Ralf shook his head. "There's nothing here to give me any strength. 'Tis naught but flavored water. Can I not at least have a bit of bread to sop it up with?""You've been ill for some time. Your system needs time to adjust to taking nourishment again.""My stomach insists it's more than ready."Thomas had to grin. He looked at the servant. "I don't see that a bit of bread could hurt.

Perhaps if he eats most of the soup, it would be possible?"The servant shrugged. "At your command, my lord.""Eat," he told Ralf.

The young man did, and when the bowl was near empty, Thomas asked the servant to fetch some bread for him. While they waited, Ralf questioned him about what had happened during his illness. The servant returned with the bread just as Thomas finished relating Juliana's confession, with some of the more personal parts edited out. Ralf had no trouble filling in the gaps, of course, but he waited until the servant had left the bread before he asked, "Will you take her to the king?"

"I don't know," Thomas admitted. "I don't know how the king might react, and I'd hate to see her treated harshly for what was, in truth, an accident."

"You could tell the king Groswick had an accident.""Aye, I could. I could even reconcile it with my conscience. But I'm not sure it's truly the right thing to do."

Ralf nodded. "Do you still want to marry the lady?"He started. "Scoundrel! What makes you think I would want to wed her?"The squire just grinned. "I've seen the way you look at her. The only other lady I've seen you look at that way was Lady Mary. And I remember you told someone she's the only lady you'd then met you would consider marrying, save that she was already wed to Sir Philip. But the way you look at Lady Juliana is even more...even stronger than the way you looked at Lady Mary."

Thomas conceded the point. He couldn't hide much from Ralf's sharp eyes and even sharper intelligence. "Aye, I love the lady. And I would still marry her, save that I'm not sure that's the right thing to do either."

"Because she lied to you?""Aye.""But she did it to protect others as well as herself. 'Tis very understandable she should do so, and I'm certain that until we arrived she had no idea there was any risk of harm to others."

"True," Thomas admitted."The real question, then, is do you think she'd lie again, should similar circ.u.mstances arise?"

Ralf did have a way of cutting through the emotional clutter to reach the heart of an issue. Thomas sighed as he considered. "I don't know, but I think not. I think she has learned something of the dangers of lying."

"But you still doubt you can trust her sense of honor.""I suppose I do," he admitted. "But perhaps..." For the first time, he saw a possible solution to their dilemma. It wasn't without risk, but he thought the king would listen to any plea he made for mercy for her."You see a way out? I hope so, in truth. I like the lady, and I think she would bring you happiness. I hope...""What?"Ralf blushed and looked embarra.s.sed. "I hope someday I'll meet a lady as beautiful and...good as she is, who'll like me as much as Lady Juliana likes you."

"You will," Thomas said. "You already attract ladies like flowers attract bees. You're tiring."Ralf had started to slide down, and his eyelids drooped as he reached the end of his energy.

"Rest now," Thomas said. "I won't be going anywhere in the next few days. It's snowing, and there's a deep coat on the ground already."Ralf nodded but was half asleep by then.Thomas retired to a corner of the room where a small writing desk provided work s.p.a.ce. Since he could do little else, he wrote several letters to friends and family, telling them where he was and in a general way, what he was doing. He would take them with him when he left and find a messenger later to deliver them.

Since most people had eaten heartily earlier, only a light dinner was served. With the snow outside, there was little else to do, so most people attended, though conversation was subdued in deference to Lady Juliana's feelings. The lady was quiet as well, and somewhat distracted.

When it was over, Thomas started to follow her to her quarters, but changed his mind before she had time to notice his intent. He knew what he wanted to do, but needed to put more thought into how to present and organize it. The day had been long, and his exhausted mind required sleep and more time to sort out his thoughts. He went into the quarters he'd shared with Ralf. Bertram was there, sitting with the squire, who slept quietly. The man helped Thomas prepare for bed and settle onto the cot again.

The snow had slowed by the time he woke the next morning, but it hadn't stopped completely. As he made his way down the corridor to the great hall, he stopped at a window to look outside. A few tardy flakes still floated serenely down, adding to the thick white blanket already coating the ground, bleaching the roofs of buildings, and decorating trees with white fluff. The world looked clean and fresh, reborn into purity, yet it was an illusion. The trash and dung remained beneath its white coat, ready to emerge when the snow melted off it.

He reined in his fanciful imagination and went in search of food.He didn't see Lady Juliana for most of the morning. Two servants he asked hadn't seen her or heard where she might be. One of the men he'd worked with on the training ground invited him to work out with them in a bas.e.m.e.nt chamber they used for the purpose during poor weather. Since his body felt stiff and rusty with disuse, he agreed gladly.

A bell sounding called a halt to the exercises several hours later. Thomas stopped and

looked around in surprise. It couldn't possibly be time for dinner."'Tis summoning us to the hall for a meeting," one of the guardsmen told him, seeing his confusion.

Along with the others, Thomas wiped sweat from himself and cleaned his sword before replacing it in his scabbard. He met Juliana just outside the great hall and joined her when she beckoned him.

"I'm holding court today," she told him. "And I would have you beside me. 'Tis just a couple of small domestic issues first, but then I have to deal with Peter Randolph. As 'twas you and your squire he injured, I'd have you approve the fate I've decided for him. Though he made an attempt to take your life, he didn't come close to accomplishing it, so I'll not have his life in reparation. I intend to have him flogged, severely enough that he'll remember for a long time, but not so hard as to cripple or permanently injure him."

Thomas nodded. "I will be satisfied with it."Juliana smiled, but it took an effort, then she drew a deep breath, sighed it out, and turned to enter the great hall. He followed her and took the seat beside hers on the dais.

The table had been removed.

The first item of business was a dispute between the smith and a crofter over payment

for an item the smith had made for him. Juliana listened to both sides and rendered a compromise decision that gave both sides some satisfaction. Though neither individual was vindicated completely, each seemed satisfied.

The second matter involved a maid who'd been found in possession of several items stolen from others.After seeing the evidence of the items found in the girl's quarters, hearing from those who'd been with the housekeeper when she'd found them, as well as the original owners of the stolen trinkets, Juliana called the maid before her.

"Again, Jenna?" she asked. "Have you anything to say?"

The girl was crying hard already. "My lady, I try not to take things. Truly, I do. But something comes over me...and I cannot resist it.""You must learn to resist it, Jenna. You cannot go through life this way." Juliana paused and sighed. "I fear that since four strokes of the rod did nothing to teach you, we must try six this time."

"No, please, my lady," the girl begged, crying even harder. She fell on her knees.Juliana nodded to a large man standing near the side of the room. He came forward, picked up the weeping girl, and carried her to a bench two other men placed in the middle of the room. They tied the girl's hands and feet to slats in the bench. The big man picked up a branch around three feet long and a half inch thick. Without ceremony, he raised it over his head and whipped it down hard on the girl's rear end. Even though the material of her shift offered some protection, the crack made by the rod as it landed sounded vicious. The girl bucked and shrieked. Five more strokes followed in rhythmic order with a short pause between each. She screamed with each one.

While it was going on, Juliana leaned over and whispered to him, "I truly believe the girl does have strange impulses she finds to difficult to control. Yet she must learn to control them or someday she'll face a penalty far worse than a whipping."

When it was over, they released the girl and helped her to stand. She still wept hard as

the lictor half-carried, half-supported her over to stand in front of Juliana again."Jenna, I do not like having to punish you. I hope you learn from it and will control yourself better in the future. Keep this in mind as a deterrent. The next time you come before me accused of this same thing, you'll receive ten strokes. Do you think you can bear it?"

The girl shook her head tearfully.

"I trust it won't be necessary. 'Tis done now and I'll hear no more about it. Go now. You have the rest of the day off to recover."The sobbing girl curtsied, buried her face in her ap.r.o.n, and ran from the room.Juliana sighed again and said softly, so no one but he could hear, "And now for an even less pleasant duty." She called to the men at arms nearby, "Bring in Peter Randolph."Three men at arms accompanied the prisoner. The young man still wore the same clothes he'd had on the day he'd tried to kill Sir Thomas, and much the same expression of outrage and anger. They marched him to stand in front of Juliana.She raised her voice so all in the hall could hear. "Peter Randolph, you are charged with attempting to murder Sir Thomas Carlwick, seated here now. As almost everyone here present also was present at the attempt, I see no need to call witnesses to testify to the fact. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

He looked up at her, his expression torn between anguish and bravado. "I sought only to protect you, my lady!"Juliana's expression remained unmoved. "With an action I had expressly and repeatedly forbidden! I'm sorry, but that argument carries no weight with me." She looked up and around the room. "Will anyone else speak for him?"

As she'd no doubt antic.i.p.ated, Peter's father, her bailiff William Randolph, stood up. His voice was heavy and somewhat choked. "My lady, my son is several kinds of fool, but there's no malice in him. He truly did seek to protect you, though I know it was against your orders. I agree he must be punished for it, but I do beg that you spare his life."

She nodded to him but said nothing. Instead she looked around the room and finally

asked, "Anyone else?"When no one else spoke, she rose to her feet and looked back at the prisoner. "Peter Randolph, I find that you are guilty of both disobeying your lady and of attempting to take the life of a knight of the realm. As I agree with your father's judgment that your only motive for both was my protection, I do not require you pay with your life. However, I cannot let such wicked deeds go unpunished. Though it pains me to do so, I must order that for disobedience to your lady, you will receive forty lashes with the heavy strap. For the sin of attempting to murder Sir Thomas, you will receive an additional sixty." She glanced toward the large man who'd carried out the maid's punishment earlier. "Martin, take charge, please."The young man drew a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but otherwise he said nothing. He straightened himself up and didn't resist when Martin turned him and led him to one of the pillars that lined the sides of the room, but as he twisted away he met Juliana's gaze with eyes that accused her of betrayal. Juliana didn't react, but sat down and waited, with no expression apparent on her face. Only Sir Thomas was close enough to see that her fingers curled around the arms of her chair with such force the knuckles looked strained and white.

Thomas was shocked and stunned himself. One hundred strokes was a heavy punishment, indeed. Harsher than he would have ordered. They stripped off Randolph's leather jerkin, but left his shirt and breeches on, and tied his hands to a ring set in the pillar above his head. Martin picked up the heavy strap, a fearsome looking instrument: a strip of heavy leather four feet long by three inches wide, split along a third of its length into two tongues. He wound a few inches of the unsplit end around his hand to anchor it in place and let the rest hang loose until he took up his position behind the prisoner. He flipped it behind his back and swung it around to whip it across Randolph's back. It struck with a loud, painful crack. Randolph's body jerked but he made no sound. In fact, the entire room was eerily quiet, almost as though everyone refrained even from breathing too loudly. It made the whack of the leather against flesh resound even more impressively.

But after a few strokes, Thomas began to understand the wisdom of Juliana's sentence. The punishment was harsh and painful, no doubt, yet in truth it both looked and sounded worse than it was. The strap hit loudly, but it had no edge to tear flesh, and with his clothes to protect him, its bite was blunted. The beating was impressive, painful, and humiliating, yet for all that, it was far from the b.l.o.o.d.y savagery of some floggings he'd seen.

Nonetheless, he could see the effort it took Juliana to watch impa.s.sively. She restrained a flinch several times when a particularly loud crack suggested a more painful stroke. It went on for some time as Martin paced himself, allowing a pause between each lash. One of his a.s.sistants marked each stroke with chalk on a slate board and called out the running total after each set of five. Before it was over, a few loud groans and one yell had leaked past Randolph's control. A tear she made no effort to wipe away ran down Juliana's cheek.

A collective sigh of relief rose from the crowd when the a.s.sistant called out "one hundred," and Martin put down the strap. Randolph hung limply from his bonds by then, either exhausted or fainting. He would have collapsed when they released him had Martin not caught him and slung him over his shoulder.

"Take him back to the dungeon, but see he has all the care required," she ordered. "I cannot release him until Sir Thomas and his men are away from the keep."Martin nodded and turned to carry the young man out of the room, but she stopped him, saying, "Let someone else take him back, I have another task for you here."

People had begun to rise and talk among themselves, preparing to leave, but the chatter and movement halted at her words. All turned back toward her to find out what she meant. She waited until Martin had transferred his burden to another man-at-arms, who carried the limp form out of the room, before she spoke.

She stood up and drew a deep breath to steady herself. Even so, her voice wobbled and broke when she announced, "As Peter Randolph has been punished for his attempt on Sir Thomas, I must, in justice, also accuse myself of some part in that crime, for it was my deception concerning Lord Groswick's death that led to it. Knowing the facts as I do, I confess my guilt, and sentence myself to the same punishment Peter Randolph received for his attempt to kill Sir Thomas. Sixty lashes with the strap. Martin, if you will do your duty..." She stepped down off the dais and walked toward the man, ignoring the clamor of gasps, sobs, and protests that broke out from all corners of the room.

Even Martin seemed too shocked and stunned to move. He, as well as everyone else in the room, looked to Thomas. It took a moment before Thomas realized the reason: he was the only one present who could stop what Juliana intended to do. He admired her gallantry and her sense of justice, as she stood ready to accept a severe punishment for her crimes against him, but he didn't want it this way.

Thomas stood up and shouted, loudly enough to cut across the clamor, "Nay, Lady Juliana, I protest."

She stopped and turned toward him. "Why, Sir Thomas? What is your objection?"Love for her, a love that transcended her beauty and charm, pa.s.sion that rose from his deep admiration for her sense of honor and courage as well as desire for her luscious body nearly overwhelmed him, but they also helped him find the argument that would win her cooperation. "Peter Randolph is your va.s.sal, and thus it is your right to pa.s.s judgment and sentence on his crimes. As lady of this keep, you are the king's va.s.sal. And as I am the king's representative here, I claim the right to act in his place."

Juliana looked stunned and more than a bit dismayed. "It is true," she said. Bracing herself once again, she added, "I have admitted my guilt. It is for you then, Sir Thomas, to impose a sentence."

"So I shall, and you shall have your punishment. But the right to designate the time and place and method belong to me, and I do not choose to do so here and now."Her expression changed to a startled frown. For a moment it appeared she might protest, but then she shrugged and said, "As you will, my lord." Around him people cheered and clapped.

She stopped to look around the room, not sure how to react to the relief being expressed. Finally she sighed, shrugged, and said, "We're done here. I thank you for your presence. Return now to your work."

William Randolph sought her out before he left the room. Thomas stood close enough to hear him thank her for sparing his son's life. "He's young, and has much to learn yet,"the man said. "He'll grow out of his foolishness."

Juliana nodded agreement. "Let us hope today's lesson helps him understand his folly and the need for more thought before he acts."They followed others out of the room, but Thomas went with Juliana to the small office. As they walked toward it, he asked, "What did you think to learn yourself from the punishment requested?"

She pondered on that a moment. "I sought no lesson, as I think that already learned, but only atonement.""You feel the need of it?"

"Aye.""Your people would not be happy about it. 'Twas clear from their reactions that many of them already carry their own guilt and sorrow for you. 'Twould disturb them too much to see you suffer more, no matter how much you think you deserve it. You shall have your atonement, but in private, administered by me. Go now to your chamber, undress to only your shift, kneel on the floor, and wait for me thus, meditating on your sins."

He saw the flash of fear that crossed her face, followed by acceptance. She wanted to ask what he would do, but hadn't the nerve or thought she didn't deserve to know."I'll await you," she promised.

Chapter Thirteen.

Juliana hurried to her chambers, threw off her cloak and overgown, removed her leather slippers, and rolled off her stockings. Then she knelt on the stone floor, off the colorful, woven rug in the center of the chamber, to await him. She did indeed meditate on her sins and prayed that somehow they might be granted a way out of this mess into happiness. If not for the two of them together, then she pled for Sir Thomas to at least find peace and contentment. But she couldn't help adding her pleas that they be allowed a future together as husband and wife.

After a few minutes, she began to worry about how long he'd make her wait and what he would do when he arrived. Not so much how he would punish her; she expected him to respect her need for atonement and chastise her well. Rather, she wondered what would come after. Would he turn her over to the king and wash his hands of her? Or would he still want her for his wife? How could he reconcile his conscience with it if he didn't bring her before the king?

Her thoughts made her restless and unhappy, but fortunately he didn't keep her waiting overlong. Because she faced the door, she could watch him enter. A solemn, almost grim, expression set his handsome face in hard lines. In his right hand he held a leather belt and several pieces of fabric that looked like lengths of silk.

"Lady Juliana, stand up," he ordered. The words were stern, untempered with compa.s.sion or care.She got to her feet and stood before him.

"Remove your shift."She felt her eyes widen and the hot color rise into her cheeks, but she did as he ordered, pulling the shift over her head.

He looked her over dispa.s.sionately. "You confessed your guilt for your lies and deception, offered your repentance, and expressed your desire for atonement. I'm here to deliver your chastis.e.m.e.nt. I warn you, 'twill be harsher than what you would have ordered for yourself. You'll get a whipping with my belt on your bare flesh. No set number of strokes, but I'll continue until I feel it's enough. You'll no doubt think it enough well before I do." He stopped and shut his eyes for a moment, as though fighting through pain. "Do you agree to this?" he asked. "I'll not force it on you if you don't think you can bear it."

"'Tis no less than I deserve," she answered. "I do agree."

"One thing more. You may stop it at any time if you find it beyond bearing. Just tell me to stop, and I will."She nodded, but part of her wished he hadn't offered her that chance. There might well come a point when pain weakened her resolve and she begged for it to end.

He moved her to stand at the foot of the bed, facing it, and tied each wrist and each ankle to the posts on either side, so she stood spread-eagled and helpless. He fastened

another length of silk around her head, over her eyes. She heard the sounds of him walking around, then a moment of stillness, followed by an ominous hiss of leather moving rapidly through the air. But it didn't strike.

Instead he asked, "Are you ready, my lady?""Aye, Sir Thomas."This time the hiss was followed by a loud crack as the leather smacked against her bottom. A jolting shock ran through her, stunning her, but then the fiery burn seeped in

behind it. She gasped and wiggled as the sting dug deep into her flesh.

The second stroke came quickly after, lower down on her bottom, painting a ribbon of fire across both cheeks. She moaned as the burn spread into her gut and set her insides aflame. A third stroke dug into the sensitive skin where bottom met thighs.

He continued to pepper her with slaps of the leather on her bottom and thighs for some time. Though it burned with a deep, rending fire, she suspected he wasn't using anything like all the strength of his arm.

She tried to keep still, but her body reacted without her will's consent, wiggling and squirming, trying to avoid the fiery strokes. The silk ties that held her in place didn't chafe the skin, but they held fast and gave her little range of movement. For a time, she had more success in suppressing any outcry after that first gasp.

As each lash laid another painful stripe, she questioned herself for wanting this. She didn't. It was horrible. It hurt almost unbearably. But it was just. She'd sinned, and a young man had suffered far more pain than this as a result. And a part of her rejoiced that Thomas understood and respected her enough to do this for her, and do it properly.

But when the next whack landed harder than previous ones, across the tops of her thighs, all such thoughts fled. It took all her attention to stop a yell from escaping. The burn lit up her skin and worked its way into her blood, spreading all over her body, down to her toes and out to her fingers. The next few were just as hard, and after a few more, she was sobbing and struggling fiercely within her silken bonds.

She jolted in surprise and dismay when he changed direction and lashed the strip of leather across her shoulders. A furious sting broke out in a new place, washing her body with renewed fire. She gasped again and whispered, "Oh, G.o.d." It reminded her why she wanted this. A series of Ave Marias and Pater Nosters helped her endure the next few strokes, all crossing her shoulders and back, lighting the flesh with blazing pain. Eventually, though, she could no longer concentrate on the prayers.

The leather returned to her derriere, raking over skin already grated and burning. She sobbed aloud, struggling to keep from begging him to stop it. Between that and her efforts to keep from screaming aloud, it took a long time to notice something else strange going on. The deep smoldering burn from the welts left by the strap combined with the fire of each new strike to send heat spiraling into her gut and down farther still.

It roused a pressure of need like to what she'd experienced before when he more gently stroked her to climax. Her quim swelled and moisture seeped from it.

Yet it didn't lessen the pain or make the sizzling agony of each stroke easier to bear.He kept whipping her, moving down her bottom to her thighs and back up again, each lash rousing new fires, jolting her with even more unbearable anguish. The silk blindfold became soaked with her tears. More gasps and even an occasional soft shriek fought past her effort to keep quiet.

Her earlier recognition that he didn't use all his strength was vindicated when he whipped the belt across her derriere even harder than previously. She arched as far as she could within the bonds, and a wailing squeal poured out of her. The fire consumed her, melted her, destroyed all control. "Please..." She stopped herself just short of begging him to stop it.