She scrambled up. Dirt streaked her tunic and leggings, smeared her face. Her nose was runny, but she dared not raise a hand to wipe her face clean. She swallowed another sob.
“I have unfinished business,” he said to the others. “Lady Eudokia will not be pleased that I left the palace so abruptly. She’ll consider it an insult.”
“But you left Princess Sapientia and Brother Heribert and most of the rest of the party behind,” said Breschius.
“Yes. Now I must retrieve them and complete the negotiations. Brother Breschius, remain here with Captain Fulk.” He paused, glancing toward the cell where Blessing was confined. The girl’s screams and protests had not diminished, although her actual words were muffled by the earthen walls. She was a persistent child. Wiser and less stubborn ones would have given up shrieking by now, silenced by fear of what was to come or even by an idea that it was better to placate than to annoy.
Not Blessing.
The slaves she had freed knelt beside the door, forbidden to see her although they refused to move away.
“Faithful servants,” the prince observed sardonically. “Let them remain there until I can deal with them. Very well, Captain. You’re in charge.”
He left with a few soldiers hurrying after him.
“Go on, child,” said Brother Breschius kindly. “You’ve sinned, and been punished. Now go and make it right.”
“How can I make it right? Will the prince turn me out?”
“Not this time. Ask forgiveness from the one you’ve harmed the most, and swear to never again neglect your duty. Princess Blessing wasn’t lost. Think of it as a warning to not allow yourself to be distracted again.”
Did he know? She flushed. Surely only she and Matto and Thiemo knew what had transpired last night. She ducked her head respectfully and ran off to the dark cell near to the one where Blessing was confined. The door was so low that she had to crawl inside, but within it was blessedly cool and dark. She smelled blood and sweat and saw the shape of two prone figures in the dim filtering light. Even those unmoving shapes still had the power to awaken in her the desires that had broken free last night: What a fool she was!
“Anna?” Matto groaned and shifted.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, touching his ankle. “Has anyone put a salve on your back?”
“Sergeant Cobbo did,” said Matto, “and swore at me the whole time. Oh, God, Anna. Why did you have to do it?”
“You’re not the only one who suffered,” exclaimed Thiemo.
“You sorry excuse for a man. You only took those lashes because you were afraid that Anna would comfort me if I was hurt and you weren’t!”
“You’ve no right to speak to me in that way!”
“That’s right! I’m only a poor common boy, your randy lordship. Nor should I covet what you’ve already taken for your own, isn’t that right?”
“Shut up!” Anna kicked Thiemo in the leg before he could respond. It was hard to feel affectionate toward him; smelling the whipping he and Matto had taken; remembering how close that switch had come to her own back.
“Serves you right,” hissed Matto, rearing up. “Serves you right, you stinking goat—”
Unthinkingly she set a hand on his back to press him down, and he howled with pain. She jerked back her hand; it came away wet with blood.
“Shut up!” She wanted to cry, but her chest was too tight. “Haven’t we done enough harm?”
2
THE doors to the governor’s palace were closed and Sanglant and his small retinue were, once again, forced to wait outside while the eunuch who acted as gatekeeper vanished into the interior. At this time of day, however, the shadows slanting away from the palace’s bulk gave them some respite from the heat. He had only a dozen men with him; the rest he had left with his sister within the palace courtyard a few hours before.
As he waited, he fretted. He had thought himself so clever, leaving Blessing with the main body of troops in the fort while he negotiated with Lady Eudokia. That way Blessing would stay out of trouble and could not be used as a hostage if the worst happened and the governor plotted intrigue.
But Blessing was getting older every day, far too quickly. Thinking of what had happened made him so angry that he had to twist his fear and fury into a knot and thrust it out of sight. He could not let such feelings cripple him.
Ai, for the love of God, how had Blessing got so wild? What had he done wrong?
He heard the tread of many feet a moment before the heavy doors were thrust open from inside and a troop of Arethousan soldiers marched out. In their midst strode a general, or lord, recognizable by his soldier’s posture and his shrewd, arrogant gaze as he looked over Sanglant and offered him a swift grin that marked Sanglant as his accomplice, or his dupe. The man had broad shoulders, powerful arms, and only one eye, the other lost, no doubt, in battle. He was a fighting man.
Sanglant nodded, recognizing a kindred spirit whether that man were ally or enemy, and they assessed each other a moment more before the general was hailed by one of his officers and turned his attention away. The troop crossed the broad plaza to the stables, where saddled horses were being led out.