A Prince to be Feared: The love story of Vlad Dracula (30 page)
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Authors: Mary Lancaster
I think it was the laughter that shook him off. At any rate I was free, with no inclination, or time, to think about what was in his face. On the table, to his left, I could see someone’s up-turned boots.
I took my time. There were the boots, and leggings, and a short tunic worn without armour, save for the red painted shield still slung around his body like his sword-belt. There was a black dragon on the shield, with fierce, jewelled, emerald green eyes. My lips parted.
For the first time, I acknowledged the stale smell of burning that came off the body. His hair and head had been badly burned, beyond recognition. That should not have surprised me. I think it was the isolated clumps of thick, golden hair clinging still to his shoulders and chest that threw me off balance. Siward was right: he had been hacked to pieces. Bits of limbs were missing, there were massive, gory wounds in his legs and body, and his face, dear God, was enough to make seasoned warriors cringe.
I had seen enough. Sickened, I was already beginning to turn away when something on the body caught my eye: something frail and small and stained, but once, unmistakably, yellow. It shone through the singed, filthy, bloody rags of his clothing, somewhere between his chest and his left shoulder. Involuntarily, my hand reached out and touched it.
A braided, yellow ribbon, sewn with tiny gems.
My mouth opened, soundless at first, then gasping, and gasping again. Another storm filled my ears, rushing, swelling, endless. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered, twisting with the awful, unbearable thing I had found. “Jesus Christ.”
Leofric said, “What—?”
And Siward interrupted him savagely, “She did not know! She would not believe me!” He strode up to the dais and seized me by both arms. “You didn’t, did you? That is why you behaved so, said all those things! For God’s sake, Torfrida, what do you take me for?”
A queer, animal noise burst from my throat.
“Leave her!” Leofric said sharply. And as soon as the fingers slackened on my arm, I was away, bolting for the door, away from the tragedy I had not foreseen and would never be able to run from. The dreadful finality of death was upon me at last, and now,
now
, I was lost.
Hereward is dead.
