"My lord," prompted old Temigast behind him.
"For your worse crime," Lord Feringal began again, his voice was stronger, "for the ravishing of Lady Meralda you shall be publicly castrated, then chained for public spectacle for one day. And then, dog Wulfgar, you shall be burned at the stake."
Wulfgar's face screwed up incredulously at the reading of the last crime. He had saved the woman from such a fate! He wanted to yell that in Lord Feringal's face, to scream at the man and tear the door from its fitting. He wanted to do all of that, and yet, he did nothing, just sat there quietly, accepting the injustice.
Or was it injustice? Wulfgar asked himself. Did he not deserve such a fate? Did it even matter?
That was it, Wulfgar decided. It mattered to him not at all. He would find freedom in death. Let Lord Feringal kill him and be done with it, doing them both a favor. The woman had falsely accused him, and he could not understand why, but. . no matter.
"Have you nothing to say?" Lord Feringal demanded.
"Will you grant a final request?"
The young man trembled visibly at the absurd notion. "I would give you nothing! " he screamed. "Nothing more than a night, hungry and wretched, to consider your horrid fate."
"My lord," Temigast said again to calm him. "Guard, lead Lord Feringal back to his chambers." The young man scowled one last time at Wulfgar through the opening in the door, then let himself be led away.
Temigast stayed, though, taking one of the torches and waving the remaining guards away. He stood at the cell door for a long while, staring at Wulfgar.
"Go away, old man," the barbarian said.
"You did not deny the last charge," Temigast said, "though you protested your innocence to me."
Wulfgar shrugged, but said nothing and did not meet the man's gaze. "What would be the point of repeating myself? You've already condemned me."
"You did not deny the rape," Temigast stated again.
Wulfgar's head swung up to return Temigast's stare. "Nor did you speak up for me," he replied.
Temigast looked at him as if slapped. "Nor shall I."
"So you would let an innocent man die."
Temigast snorted aloud. "Innocent?" he declared. "You are a thief and a dog, and I'll do nothing against Lady Meralda, nor against Lord Feringal, for your miserable sake."
Wulfgar laughed at him, at the ridiculousness of it all.
"But I offer you this," Temigast went on. "Say not a word against Lady Meralda, and I will ensure that your death will be quick. That is the best I can offer."
Wulfgar stopped laughing and stared hard at the complicated steward.
"Or else," Temigast warned, "I promise to drag the spectacle of your torture out for the length of a day and more, shall make you beg for your death a thousand thousand times before setting you free of the agony."
"Of the agony?" Wulfgar echoed hollowly. "Old man, you know nothing of agony."
"We shall see," Temigast growled, and he turned away, leaving Wulfgar along in the dark. . until Errtu returned to him, as the demon always did.
*****
Morik rode as fast as his horse would take him, for as long as the poor beast would last. He crossed along the same road where he and Wulfgar had encountered the carriage, past the same spot where Wulfgar had overturned the thing.
He came into Auckney late one afternoon to the stares of many peasants. "Pray tell me the name of your lord, good sir," he called to one, accentuating his request with a tossed gold piece.
"Lord Feringal Auck," the man supplied quickly. "He lives with his new bride in Castle Auck, there," he finished, pointing a gnarly finger toward the coast.
"Many thanks!" Morik bowed his head, tossed another couple of silver coins, then kicked his horse's flanks, trotting down the last few hundred yards of road to the small bridge leading to Castle Auck. He found the gate open with a pair of bored-looking guards standing to either side.
"I am Lord Brandeburg of Waterdeep," he said to them, bringing his steed to a stop. "Pray announce me to your lord, for I've a long road behind me and a longer one ahead."
With that, the rogue dismounted and brushed off his fine pantaloons, going so far as to draw his slender sword from his belt, wiping clean the blade as he brought it forth, then launching into a sudden, dazzling display of swordsmanship before replacing it on his hip. He had impressed them, he realized, as one ran off for the castle and the other moved to tend his horse.
Within the span of a few minutes, Morik, Lord Brandeburg, stood before Lord Feringal in the audience hall of Castle Auck, He dipped a low bow and introduced himself as a traveler who had lost his companions to a band of giants in the Spine of the World. He could see from Feringal's eyes that the minor nobleman was thrilled and proud to be visited by a lord of the great city of Waterdeep and would drop his guard in his efforts to please.
"I believe that one or two of my friends escaped," Morik finished his tale, "though on my word not a giant can say the same."
"How far away was this?" asked Lord Feringal. The man seemed somewhat distracted, but Morik's tale obviously alarmed him.
"Many miles, my lord," Morik supplied, "and no threat to your quiet kingdom. As I said, the giants are all dead." He looked around and smiled. "A pity it would be for such monsters to descend on such a quiet and safe place as this."
Lord Feringal took the bait. "Not so quiet, and not so safe," he growled through clenched teeth.
"Danger, here?" he said incredulously. "Pirates, perhaps?" Morik appeared surprised and looked to the old steward standing beside the throne. The man shook his head imperceptively, which Morik took to mean he should not press the issue, but that was exactly the point.
"Highwaymen," Lord Feringal snarled.
Morik started to respond but held his tongue, and his breath, as a woman whom Morik surely recognized entered the room.
"My wife," Lord Feringal introduced her distractedly. "Lady Meralda Auck."
Morik bowed low, took her hand in his, and lifted it to his lips, pointedly staring her right in the eyes as he did. To his ultimate relief, and pride at his own clever disguise, he detected no flicker of recognition there.
"A most beautiful wife," Morik stated. "You have my envy, Lord Feringal."
That brought a smile at last to Feringal's face, but it quickly turned into a frown. "My wife was in the coach attacked by these highwaymen."
Morik gasped. "I would find them, Lord Feringal," he saw "Find them and slay them on the road. Or bring them back to you, if you would prefer."
Lord Feringal waved his hands, quieting the man. "I have the one I desire," he said. "The other was buried under a rock-slide."
Morik's lips pursed at the painful thought. "A fitting fate," he said.
"More fitting is the fate I have planned for the captured barbarian," Feringal grimly replied. "A most horrible death, I assure you. You may witness it if you will stay in Auckney for the night."
"Of course, I shall," Morik said. "What have you planned for the scoundrel?"
"First, castration," Lord Feringal explained. "The barbarian will be killed properly two mornings hence."
Morik assumed a pensive pose. "A barbarian, you say?"
"A huge northerner, yes," Feringal replied.
"Strong of arm?"
"As strong as any man I have ever seen," the lord of Auckney replied. "It took a powerful wizard to bring him to justice, and even that man would have fallen to him had not my guards surrounded him and beat him down."
Morik almost choked over the mention of the wizard, but he held his calm.
"Killing a highwayman is surely an appropriate ending," Morik said, "but perhaps you would be better served in another manner." He waited, watching carefully as Lord Feringal eyed him closely.