Pain and anger in his swollen eyes, Ehrik took another long pull at Hari’s commodious brandy flask, wincing as the strong spirit bit into the raw sockets of knocked-out teeth. Then he went on, “So, when I recovered sommats from that beatin’ they give me an’ got my wits ‘bout me agin, I got ever’body together an’ led ‘em inta the woods. I flggered was the bastards to come in here a-horse, they’d make us damn good targets what couldn’ move fast in the brush. An’ I “uz jest hopin’ to Wind the boy-buggers ‘ud come in a-foot!
“But we didn’t light no fires, cause it ‘uz men with Danes hadn’ none of us seed afore, an’ I couldn’ be sure jest how many men he did have … an’ I didn’ wanta lead a whole pack of ‘em to us, an’ us with nothin’ but slings an’ knives an’ a few homemade spears.”
Hari nodded gravely. “You did very well, Ehrik. Your father would be proud of you. It takes real guts to stand off armored men—and Wind alone knew how many of them—with nought save slings.”
Then his face clouded. “But you and your folk must be equally as brave when I tell you what now I must, Ehrik. Do you recall my valet, Kristohfohros? Well, he was one of that pack of cutthroats who attacked the young thoheeks, that night at the Forest Bridge. Komees Djeen’s men captured him and bore him to Morguhn Hall, where the komees and the Undying High Lord and others put the pig to the torture. What he revealed to them has since been detailed to me and my son, and it bodes ill for your missing children.”
A deep moan swelled up from the folk massed about, but Hari went on. “The Ehleen priests have taken to slaying children on their altars, draining them of blood, which is then mixed with wine and herbs and drunk by those swine.
“As for your dear wife, Ehrik, I think we can be more hopeful. I well know my wife’s unnatural traits … and her tastes. Shell not have done aught to mar her beauty, for such is as important to Hehrah as it would be to a man. With any luck, she should be back with you by this time tomorrow, dear friend.”
Mairee Goontehros lay sleepless near the edge of the broad bed, her azure eyes fixed upon the blue-white flicker of a winking star. She wished, prayed, that Wind might whisk her through the narrow window to that faraway star. To anywhere rather than here—naked in her shame, beside the gross , hulk of the Lady Hehrah, who having yet again sated her sickening depravity on Mairee’s passive flesh was once more snoring. But it was not the unlovely rasp of the fat woman’s snores which kept the slender girl wakeful; rather was it the pain and the self-loathing that she had so cravenly sacrificed her honor to gain surcease of pain … that and sorrow.
“Poor dear brave Ehrik.” The words were shaped soundlessly and she stifled her sobs, that she might not waken her bloated captor to wreak fresh horrors upon her, but the silent tears coursed from her eyes to trickle amongst the strands of her cornsilk hair.
That day, that cursed day that Captain Danos and his henchmen had come and demanded that she accompany them back to Horse Hall, she had been so very proud of her strong, black-bearded husband. His arguments and questions ignored by the arrogant guardsmen, he had still attempted to be reasonable—until the first Ehleen had grasped her arm to pull her out the door. Then he had exploded into furious action. Ehrik’s first mighty buffet had knocked him who held her sliding, rump foremost, into the cookfire, whence he quickly emerged to run howling from the house, his leathern breeches ablaze.
When the captain made a pass at him with a stabbing sword, Ehrik’s nimble sidestep sent the blade past him, while his big, hard fist actually dented the brass breastplate, driving the breath from the captain’s chest and setting him stumbling backward into the wall. Another guardsman had been lifted bodily and thrown headfirst into the next two to rush through the doorway. He had broken the arm of another swordsman; despite the stamping and shouting and Ehrik’s roaring, she had distinctively heard the bones snap.
But of course it could not last; one lone man, no mattef what his strength or his rage, is just no match for a score of bravos. A knot of them forced in and bore him down amid the smashed furniture and two of them held her tightly while, with fists, feet, swordhilts and whipbutts, a dozen of their fellows bludgeoned the life from her husband. And when they at last stepped back from their inert victim, Mairee could not recognize even one feature of the bloody deathmask which was all that remained of Ehrik’s smiling face.
They had borne her into the square, screaming and vainly clawing at her captors. After roughly binding her hands and feet, they tossed her across the withers of the guardsman’s horse. Since hard hands explored and fondled her body all the way to the hall, she expected to be raped by them all, to be their plaything … until she could gain access to a knife and send herself to Wind.
Once more, the pale lips moved. “Better their rapes … an of them, one after the other. Far better than this … this abomination! It is natural that men should lust after a woman, but that a woman should …”
A strong shudder of horrified loathing coursed the length of her, then she lay trembling, for a long moment, praying that the movement had not wakened Lady Hehrah.
But at the hall, Mairee had found herself delivered up to the lady’s women. Numbly, she had allowed herself to be led to a bathing chamber and stripped of her torn and dusty garments. While the deep basin was being filled with warm and sweet-scented water, the laughing but hard-eyed women had turned her round and round, squeezing her firm young breasts, running their hands over the slender hips and small buttocks and flat belly, conversing in whispers she could not hear, then sharing gales of raucous laughter. When she had been laved from foot to crown and her fine hair had been dried and arranged, they clad her in a single short garment made of stuff so sheer as to be almost transparent, then conducted her to the suite of the lady.
When she had wed poor Ehrik, three months agone, dear old Lord Hari had generously feasted them in the hall and gifted them and presented them to his king stallion, his daughters and his lady. But on that joyous day, Mairee had been too full of the giddy happiness of the events and awe of the sumptuous surroundings and the old nobleman’s preferential treatment of her and Ehrik to note aught but that the lady was stout, black-haired and aloof, seeming displeased with her noble spouse.
But the lady of the initial phase of her second meeting was all solicitude, tenderly embracing Mairee and kissing her cheek in a motherly greeting, drawing her down to sit beside her on a soft-cushioned settle, insisting she eat of the rare dainties and drink of the strong, brandied wine. The lady’s plump, beringed fingers gently brushed the bruises left on Mairee’s fair skin by the cruel manhandling of Danos and his men, lifting the hem of her sole garment and pulling the low-cut neck even lower that she might see and touch the entireties of the discolored areas, all the while clucking sympathy and promising dire punishments for the guardsmen responsible.
And the combination of soothing words and strong drink had had their effect Mairee had forgotten her fears enough to weep, thinking of poor Ehrik lying dead in his blood on the floor of their home amid the smashed wreckage which had been its furnishings, and the lady’s pudgy arms had immediately enfolded her.
“Do not weep, little Mairee,” she had crooned. There is naught to be feared, for never again will any dirty, lustful man lay his hairy hands upon your sweet flesh. Never, so long as I live. My word upon it.”
And Mairee had sobbed, “Oh, my lady, they … those men slew my husband. Murdered my dear Ehrik. He … he is dead, all bloody and dead.”
“My husband, too, is dead, fair Mairee,” the lady breathed. “But what need have we two of husbands, when we now have each other? Little one, I will be husband and more, so much more, to you. I shall provide for you and care for you … and please you as no base man has ever pleased you … or could.”