Hastings looked him straight in the eye. “You are a wicked man. You will gain naught from this save my husband’s enmity for the rest of time. I suggest that you flee like the coward you are. King Edward will never allow you back at Sedgewick. You will live and die an outlaw.”
“She is right,” Severin said. “Why have you attacked us? As you said, it will gain you naught. As for your solution, you haven’t one. Why?”
Richard de Luci crossed his arms over his chest. He looked beyond Hastings to the dozen men stretched on their backs, all unconscious, some snorting, some moaning and twitching. They were all covered with their blankets.
“It is difficult,” he said slowly, his eyes on Severin again, hatred deep in them. “My Marjorie wants you, Severin. But not just you, of course. She wants Oxborough as well as you. She wants to be a countess. She fears poverty, for her second husband left her with nothing. I have led her on, for she is a fine piece in my bed. Ah, but you, Hastings. I have determined that there is but one road for me to travel, and it will be my solution and my salvation. I will kill Severin, wed you, and take you into hiding until you are with child. I ask you, what would King Edward do then? Kill me, the man who sired the brat in your womb? I don’t think so.”
“He would kill you,” Severin said. “Even if you could weasel your way out of the king’s wrath, Lord Graelam de Moreton would kill you.”
“Not if I had Hastings, Severin. She is the key to everything. She and her womb.”
“You are too late.”
“Shut up, Hastings.” Severin spoke low, but one of de Luci’s men heard her and shouted, “My lord, I don’t understand, but she says you are too late.”
“Too late for what, Hastings?” Richard de Luci walked toward her, smiling at her, sheathing his s
word. “What?”
“I will kill you if you harm Severin. That is why you are too late. I love my husband and I will kill you.”
“Ah, so that is it. Well, we will see.” De Luci nodded to his men. Their sword tips were on Hastings in but a moment. “Now, my lord Severin,” de Luci said, “throw down your sword and your knife and let my men bind your hands.”
There was no hope for it. He saw the tip of one man’s sword pressed lightly against Hastings’s throat. He would kill that man. But now, he couldn’t do anything. Severin hated it, but there was no choice. There would be another time. He would see to that. But not now. Now, de Luci held control. De Luci took Hastings’s arm and pulled her away from Severin.
“You harm her in any way and I’ll kill you.”
“My lord Severin, both you and your wife are so taken with each other. Am I to believe that you want her for more than the wealth she brought you?”
Severin stared at the man, saying nothing. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. De Luci raised his hand. In the next instant, one of his men brought the butt of his sword down on Severin’s head. He collapsed where he stood. Trist mewled loudly and slithered from beneath his master.
The men jumped back.
“What is it? It is a weasel!”
“Mayhap it is a Devil’s familiar.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Hastings said, all the contempt and scorn she could muster in her voice, for she didn’t want Trist to be harmed. “He is a marten and a pet. Trist, come here.”
Trist ran to her, climbed her gown, and settled himself on her shoulder. He raised a paw toward Severin. “It’s all right, Trist. Severin will be all right. Just stay with me.”
Trist turned and rubbed his whiskers against her chin.
De Luci said, “Hastings, you may ride your own palfrey. Let us go.”
They left the Oxborough men lying unconscious.
When Severin regained consciousness a short time later, he found himself tied facedown over his warhorse, his hands bound behind him. De Luci saw he was conscious immediately and merely raised his hand to acknowledge him.
“You may remain thus for a while, my lord. It should give you a taste of humility.” Then he laughed. “No, I won’t kill you, at least not yet. You have your uses, my lord. Marjorie told me that Hastings was a bitch. I told Marjorie I would have you ready at hand to torture if Hastings did not perform as I bade her.”
He reined in beside Hastings. He was still laughing.
“You are pathetic,” she said, staring between Marella’s ears.
He was silent in an instant. He said very slowly, with utter calm, “What did you say to me?”
“I said,” she repeated, turning now to face him, “that you are pathetic. You keep your distance, have one of your men strike him down, you tie him to his horse, and now you laugh because he is helpless. I doubt you would ever want to face Severin by yourself. He would kill you very quickly, for you are naught but a puking coward.”