The Mercenary's Claim (11 page)

“Do you want Driver to hear you?” he asked as he pushed her skirts up over her waist baring her already burning rump to the warm afternoon air.

“Stop! Let me up!”

“I suppose you do, then. I hope he enjoys the show.” Gustav applied the large palm of his strong hand to her backside, first in the middle, where the flesh was roundest, then lower down, at the crease where buttock met thigh. She wriggled and gasped, pushing at the log with her hands and forearms, but he held her tightly against the trunk.

Her backside was on fire and she knew steam must be rising from it, even in this heat, as he continued his spanking without pause or hesitation. “Stop! You beast! Ow! Oh, ow! No! No!”

“Settle down and takes what’s coming to you!”

“It hurts t-too much… to be s-still!”

“Be still and I’ll slow down. Now that I’ve got your attention, I want you to hear me, but you won’t if you don’t stop screeching like a barn owl.”

“All right! All right!” She took a deep breath and with great effort held still.

“You must learn to take advice, Kirsten,” Gustav suggested conversationally as he swatted her rump in a slower, more relaxed rhythm. “Right now, I advise you to hush. Your rump is already bright red and I don’t envy you having to ride the rest of the day like that. All you have to do is apologize and I’ll stop.”

“Apologize? Me? I did nothing wrong! It was you who—”

He swatted her hard on the right cheek. She jumped but managed to stay in place. “Seems I might need to take my belt off.”

“No!”

“Then apologize!”

“How dare you?”

“The belt it is.” Holding Kirsten with one hand, he removed his thin leather knife belt and slid the knife holster off the end. Doubling the strap, he clasped the small buckle in his palm and cracked the belt down hard on her backside, laying a line of fire across both cheeks.

“Ow! Let go of me! Ow!”

“Apologize.” He brought the strap down again and again, slowly, deliberately, giving her time to shout and curse at him between each stroke. “Oh, you should see the hue of your rump. Crimson, I would call it. A shame how much this is going to hurt until you say you are sorry.” He paused for a moment and she shuddered, near exhaustion.

“All right! I’ll say it! Please!”

“Go on, then.” He let her go. She stood up and rubbed furiously at her burning backside.

“I’m sorry that you are such a nasty brute!”

“Hush!”

“I will not hush!” she shrieked.

He wasted no more words, but grabbed her and held her close to him, his hand over her mouth. In her ear, he hissed, “Someone’s coming!” He had barely started to drag her to the horses when they heard a bowstring being drawn back. An arrow twanged into a tree trunk inches from their heads.

“What a touching scene. A lovely lady getting her backside reddened by her irate husband. I hate to break up such a tableaux,” said Gregor, appearing out of the forest cover and coming into the light of the clearing, “but I have a warrant to serve.”

Gustav let go of Kirsten’s mouth, but held her waist as she started to sag to the ground in shock. “Good afternoon, my lord. What warrant is that?”

“A royal warrant on one Gustav Jager, on a charge of treason. You’ve been a naughty boy, plotting to bring spies into the kingdom.” Gregor signaled with an upward wave of his hand and three bowmen stepped into the clearing.

“He’s a vintner,” Gustav replied in a bored tone.

“And by the time that is proved, I’ll have seen you hanging on a gibbet in the courtyard of Reichhold where it will embarrass Ludolf the most. If indeed it can be proved. The roads are so treacherous these days, are they not? Anything can happen to a man traveling alone.”

“Ludolf will never let you in. Don’t be absurd.”

“He will if I’m flying a flag of truce. We’ll have to parlay first, I’m sure, but he cannot object to keeping a prisoner charged with treason. He’ll have to choose between locking you up alone or joining you in the cell as your accomplice.”

“So this is why you wanted my wife? As bait to catch me and hang me so you can get… what exactly?”

“Only justice, of course.” The sneer in his voice held a surprising bitterness. “But if Ludolf falls into disrepute because of his son-in-law’s conviction for treason, I am afraid the downfall of his house will be assured. His lands and title would be a fitting reward for the man who caught an enemy of the crown.”

Kirsten finally found her voice. “You’ll never prove anything. I’ll testify before any judge that we had plans to bring a vintner from the south.”

“Even if you would have been believed, woman, you will sadly arrive too late as well. Bind them both separately,” Gregor ordered his men who were emerging from the trees. “Sling him on his horse. Leave her tied to that tree then make sure she can’t be seen from the road. A few of those dead branches dragged over here should do the trick. If anyone does find her, it won’t be for days.”

* * *

She tried not to give Gregor the satisfaction of hearing her cry as he took her husband and rode off toward her parents’ stronghold which was, she realized, unfortunately close to this road and less than a day off to the north. He might arrive by noon the next day, if they stopped late and rose early. Lying in the compost of last year’s fallen leaves and the accumulated filth of the forest floor, Kirsten concentrated on the mess she must look and how horrible she felt, pushing from her mind the paralyzing terror of the charge being brought against her husband. Gregor would not dare execute him without some sort of trial, since without a conviction, Ludolf would not be disgraced and his lands would not be forfeit to the crown. Gregor needed the trial, but it would only take a corrupt judge or one other nobleman of the same rank as her father to convict and sentence Gustav. Her father could not dare to be seen as an enemy of the king so he would be able to do very little for Gustav.

As soon as the sound of their horses’ hooves had faded into the distance, Kirsten began her struggles. Grunting with pain and effort, she had almost managed to work one of her hands free when she heard a familiar voice.

“My lady! My lady! Where are you?” It was Driver, dismounted and scouring both the ground and the trees above.

“Here, Driver! Oh, thank goodness. Get these ropes off me! Yes, that’s it.”

“I doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“Just do it! We’ve no time to lose! They’ve taken Gustav to Reichhold for trial on charges of treason.”

“Who? How?”

Kirsten explained to him all that had happened while he cut the bindings on her hands. Mounting, she turned her horse north, but Driver caught the reins and pulled her horse south. “Where are you going? Reichhold lies that way.”

“So does the enemy. If what you says is true and Gregor means to hang him, we can’t be waiting on no courts nor justice as can be bought and likely already has been. We’d be needing of an army as is already paid for.”

Kirsten gave Driver a strange look. “Do you think he’ll come?”

“That I do, my lady. I mean to risk all our lives on it.”

“Do you know where to find him?”

“You doesn’t find him. He finds you. But this is special cases, this here is. Old Driver has a notion. Let’s us see if he’s right.”

Chapter Seven

Kirsten had never thought to use the secret tunnel underneath Reichhold again. Even less had she contemplated bringing a stranger into that tunnel with the intent of giving him access to the courtyard so he could open the gate to an invading army. But that was what she was doing, stooping over and walking up the slope of the passage as quickly as the awkward posture would allow. Behind her stalked Varin, the man she had never liked, but whom fate had decreed she must now trust not only with her life, but with the lives of all those she held dear.

“Why are these things always so blasted short? Are they made for hounds or men?” complained the dark-haired, swarthy leader of the mercenary army trailing her into her parents’ stronghold.

“The tunnel at the hunting lodge requires one to crawl, so be happy you can at least keep to your feet,” Kirsten rejoined tersely. “Sharp turn here, if you really think we need to go to the dungeons first.”

“We do! Are you in the habit of arguing with every word Gustav utters?”

Kirsten took a narrow turn and the tunnel led downwards again. “It’s just that one would think it wise to warn my parents what was going to happen so they don’t order our people to attack.”

“All in good time.” His voice was razor-edged, as sharp as the blade he carried in a sheath at his side.

They arrived in the dungeon in the middle of the night, careful to make no noise. Sliding the grate from the floor, Varin used a small set of mirrors arranged in a crooked configuration to peer up into the cell to make sure they had found Gustav alone.

In a few minutes, all three of them were back down the tunnel to a distance that allowed them to conduct a whispered conference.

“I am so sorry,” Kirsten began. She tried without success to control her tears. Her regret since their horrible parting the day before had been intense. She had not slept or eaten until she had reached the mercenary camp and persuaded Varin of the truth of their story. He had come with her immediately, once he believed them, but Kirsten had continued to cry and fret whenever she was alone, chiding herself over how she had treated Gustav.

“None of that now! I only brought you on condition you wouldn’t weep or fuss. We’ve decisions to make,” Varin chided her.

Gustav was trying to comfort her, cradling her in his arms as he sat on the floor. “At least we can say goodbye, my love. You’ll be fine. I promise. Varin, we must leave at once. Tonight is the perfect chance. Ludolf and Helena are both in conference with Gregor so they will not be accused of setting me free. Kirsten, you make your way to your old room and pretend to have been there all along. No one will be able to disprove your claim without admitting they searched. Their story is that you are safely far away at Schoenfeld as far as they know. They can’t admit to leaving you tied in the forest, so that stalemate works for you.”

“Up to my room? We’re leaving together. I’m coming with you.” Kirsten looked from Gustav to Varin. “Aren’t I? Of course I am!”

“Of course you are not! If you are found with me, you will be disgraced forever. If we cannot disprove the charge, you would be condemned with me to life as an outlaw, in a forest camp, scrounging a living until we could cross the border into exile. That’s no life for a woman.”

“It’s the only life I want! To be with you.”

Gustav just stared at her in the candlelight’s flicker. She could tell he could barely dare to hope her words were true. “You don’t have to. I can’t expect it of you. I’ll understand if you go back to your parents, to your old life.”

She could only shake her head, her tears preventing speech.

Varin broke in, distaste in his impatient voice. “No, she doesn’t have to, but neither do you. We could fight. I could mount a full-on attack, while we send a rider to the king. If your case is tried at his castle, with all the nobles as witnesses, you’ll be let off before the charges are fully read. His Majesty only signed that warrant as a favor to Gregor. My sources say he has some hold over the king, but in open court, you’ll certainly prevail. We just need time to get you to the court. A full-on assault on the castle will win you that.”

“He would order me killed as soon as you blew your first trumpet,” Gustav countered.

Varin gave him a disapproving look. “I’d leave you a sword and send men in to wait in the tunnel, idiot! We’d get to you before they could overpower you. Gregor needs a trial. He won’t kill you.”

“But others would die. It’s too risky! Better we all leave, now.” Turning to Varin, Kirsten fixed him with an accusing glare. “Why did you not mention to me that the guards might kill Gustav in the event of an open attack? I thought frontal assault was the plan all along!”

“I told you he was my planner,” Gustav chuckled. “This is what he had planned from the beginning no doubt, but he knew he needed you to guide him quickly here.”

“I took a leaf out of Gustav’s book and used you to get what I wanted, which was to consult with him. Now, I have done. It’s time to choose. Which shall it be? Both to the forest for a life of exile or a full frontal attack on Reichhold?”

“I cannot accept either.” Gustav’s face showed his determination.

“I cannot accept your refusal!” hissed Kirsten.

“I cannot delay much longer. Choose one!” Varin snapped.

“And I cannot believe my ears! How many of you are there down here?” A new voice suddenly caught their attention, breaking the tension of the moment.

“Mutti!” Kirsten cried.

“Lady Helena?” groaned Gustav. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Neither should you! This tunnel is meant as a last resort, not a secondary entrance or private exit. Get back in your cell!” Lady Helena shoved at Gustav’s shoulder as if to move him in the right direction.

“But—!”

“No time to explain. All may yet be well but you must move now. Trust me!”

It was a testament to the force of Helena’s personality and the respect she inspired in even the hardest of warriors that the two men, bent over, made their way more quickly than Kirsten would have thought possible back into the tunnel under the cell. By the time Kirsten caught up with them, Varin was pushing Gustav’s feet upward into the dungeon. The clinking of the key turning in the door’s huge lock covered the sound of Gustav sliding the grate back into place.

Kirsten stood there behind Varin, breathless and terrified. She tried to step beside him, but Varin held her back, out of sight even if someone knelt down and peered into the grate.

They heard voices, tense and arguing. Kirsten thought she heard her uncle, her mother’s brother whose help had so recently been lacking, shouting over all the din. “Get him out of there! I’ve the king’s warrant to bring him to the court! There’s no need for dungeons and shackles!”

“But my warrant still holds! He’s my prisoner!” It was Gregor arguing as if the volume of his protest would make up for lack of legality.