B00CGOH3US EBOK (18 page)

"I'm going to have to do
what?
"

"Hold a metal rod fired in hot coals for nine paces. 'Tis what a trial by iron is."

"But that's barbaric!" Jill gasped, her mind reeling at the thought.

"'Tis to prove whether or not you are innocent of the crime."

"How does burning my hands with a red hot poker prove anything?"

She stared at Baelin through the lone, barred window. Or rather at his feet, since he stood outside and she was once again imprisoned below ground in the dank cellar the villagers used for a jail cell.

"'Tis in the healing your guilt or innocence is proven. If your hands do not fester after three days, you shall be judged innocent. If the wounds do not heal…"

She glanced around at the filthy room. Rotting straw covered the damp dirt floor, while something rustled in the shadows of one corner—probably a huge, flea-ridden rat waiting to gnaw on her ankles. She turned back to the window to find Baelin kneeling by it, his face framed in the narrow opening.

"How can a burn not get infected in a place like this? It's a case of gangrene just waiting to happen."

"You will be proven innocent. You
must
be." His clipped words revealed the anger he still harbored against her for leaving him. But his fury seemed to have cooled a degree or two, giving way to concern for her, which relieved and frightened her at the same time.

"But what if I'm not? We both know I'm innocent, but what if the burns get infected anyway?"

"Then they will hang you."

"Oh, God." The image of the dead man outside the village flashed before her eyes. Only now, her own body swung slowly in the breeze as crows pecked at her lifeless corpse. She took in deep gulps of air to prevent herself from vomiting.

"Fear not, my lady. Should the ordeal go poorly for you and your guilt comes to pass, I shall not let that happen."

Shock and disbelief gave way to fear of the atrocity to come. "My guilt won't come to pass because I probably won't make it that far. Baelin, I don't handle pain well. I nearly passed out when I had my ears pierced. How am supposed to get through something like this?"

"'Tis a circumstance you brought upon yourself. For every wrong committed, there is always a consequence to pay."

Jill heard the censure in his voice. He wasn't just talking about trespassing in the church or taking the statue. He was talking about the tapestry, too. A long, strained silence hung between them, any trust that had once been there stretched tight on a thread close to breaking.

"Baelin?"

"Aye, my lady?"

"I'm sorry. I was wrong to run away with the tapestry. But after what happened to the men in the forest, I freaked. I was scared. But I'm really, really sorry. Even though the tapestry may be my ticket out of here, it was yours and I had no right to take it."

His face softened a fraction and he nodded. "Do not fret, my lady. 'Tis already forgiven. Think on it no more."

Then another horrifying thought struck her. "The tapestry! It was in my satchel. They took everything from me when they arrested me."

"Fear not. Since I claimed you as my ward, they entrusted me with your belongings. 'Tis safely in my possession once again."

"That's good. At least that's one problem solved."

Baelin handed her a length of cloth through the bars. "Take this."

"What's this for?"

"'Tis a veil. The trial requires you to fast for three days. During that time, you will spend your waking hours in prayer to prepare your soul for the ordeal to come. You must wear a covering on your head whenever you enter the church."

"Right. That was another strike against me today." Jill crushed the delicate material in her hands, panic making her pulse race. "Please, Baelin, can't you do anything? I don't think I can go through with this."

"I offered to stand in your place, but you refused."

In an instant, the tension between them returned. He may have forgiven her, but bruised pride hardened his voice. She'd insulted him more than she realized by throwing his chivalry back in his face in front of the entire village.

"That was before I knew their idea of a trial was for me to walk around with a red hot poker in my hands!" Jill dropped the veil, wrapped her hands around the bars, and pulled. "Isn't there anything you can do? Can't you rip these bars off the window?"

"Nay, I have not the dragon's strength as a man. I am no match for iron and stone."

She glanced behind her to the bolted door. "What about the door? It's made of wood. Can't you hock up a fireball and burn it down?"

"And what of the guard who stands on the other side? Would you have me set him aflame to free you?"

"Of course not!" She paused and stared off into nothingness, various possibilities of escape churning in her head. "What about when they come to take me to the church? Couldn't you do something then? Create a distraction? Come charging in on a white stallion? Swoop down and grab me and we both fly away off into the sunset?"

"Nay."

"Why not?" She couldn't believe he was refusing to help her. "Is it because you're still angry I ran away? You want me to go through this gruesome trial of medieval torture because I hurt you? Is this your way of getting back at me? I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?"

"'Tis not that, my lady. Not that at all."

"Then what is it?" She was trying desperately to understand.

Baelin sighed, regret weighing heavy in the lines of his face. "What would you have me do? You saw yourself the small garrison of armed knights accompanying the manorial court. Were I to reveal my dragon form, they, along with all the villagers, would attack me in their fear and hatred. Would you have me slay the entire village to spare you from that which you brought upon yourself? Would you have me slaughter them down to the last woman and child?" His expression changed, the caring man turning into the hardened knight before her eyes. "Because 'tis what it would take to free you now."

They came for her just after dawn.

Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor of the room above her and headed for the ladder leading down to the cellar, coming closer, ever closer.

Jill huddled in the corner, knowing it was useless to try to hide in the small, cramped room, but she did it anyway. If only the witch who'd cursed Baelin could turn her into a mouse, she could scurry under the straw. She wouldn't even mind being transformed into a disgusting cockroach for a while if it enabled her to slip through a crack in the wall and get away. But as the footfalls drew nearer, she knew there would be no escape for her.

She stood and went to the window. "Baelin? Are you still out there?"

"Aye, my lady."

Of course he was. For the past three days and nights, he'd stood vigil outside her window, always there, a calming constant in this terrible nightmare.

"They're coming."

"I know."

"I'm scared."

"I know that, too. You must be brave. Remember, I will never be far from your side."

Jill tried to choke back the sob stuck in her throat, but she couldn't. She wasn't that brave, not by a long shot. Instantly, Baelin was on his knees by the window. He reached through the bars and clasped her hand in his.

"Do not weep, my lady," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "If only I could take your place. The fire will not harm me."

She squeezed his hand tight, already feeling the intense heat searing the tender flesh of her palm. "But you can't. There's nothing you can do to keep the iron from burning me."

Baelin's gaze flew to their joined hands, and then he straightened, hope lighting his features. "Perhaps there is."

He tossed his cloak over his shoulder and spread his wing, prying off first one and then another scale from the underside. The muscles in his jaw clenched and, though he did not make a sound, she knew it hurt him to do it. It probably felt like having your fingernails ripped off one by one.

"What are you doing?"

Baelin handed her the two dragon scales. "Hide these within the folds of your gown. You must find a way to place them in your palms before you grasp the iron. They may shield you from the worst of it, but take care no one sees you do this. It would mean your death if it is known you possess them."

Jill held the iridescent scales in her hands, a precious gift from the man she'd so recently betrayed. "Or it could mean your death if they find out they came from you."

"'Tis a chance I am willing to take."

The footsteps halted outside the door. She shoved the scales up her sleeves as the bolt was thrown back and light from the men's torches flooded the dark chamber. Her back stiff, she straightened her veil and turned to face them.

Be brave. Easy for Baelin to say when he was safe on the other side of the wall.

As the men ushered her out of the room, she cast one final glance over her shoulder to the tiny window, but he was no longer there.

They led her up a wooden ladder and outside into the crisp morning air. After crossing the common area, they ushered her up the stone steps leading into the church. She'd traveled the same path back and forth for the past three days.

She was shocked to find the church already filled with villagers. Apparently, there wasn't much in the form of entertainment for these people. They'd all come to watch her go through the trial. Jill touched the inner sleeve of her gown, taking small comfort in the concave shape of the dragon scale hidden underneath. She sent a silent prayer heavenward that she wasn't strip-searched before the ordeal began.

Brought forward, she was forced to kneel on the cold stone floor. Her knees screamed in agony, bruised to the bone from kneeling hour upon hour in the same position, forced to pray for forgiveness of her multitude of sins and to prepare her soul for what was to come. After the first day, she hadn't seen the point in repeating the experience. She figured God got it the first time.

Father Gerald walked to the altar and picked up a metal rod lying there. He turned back to the congregation and held it for all to see as the steward came to stand beside him.

"My lady Donahue," Master William began, "you are hereby charged with the act of sacrilege against the Church. Have you prepared your soul for trial?"

"Yes," she croaked. Her soul was prepared, but she didn't know if her body was.

The steward nodded and stepped back as the priest carried the rod to a brazier set off to the side and held it over the fire.

"Bless, O Lord God, this place that there may be for us in it sanctity, chastity, virtue, and victory, and holiness, humility, goodness, gentleness, and plenitude of law and obedience to God the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost."

He dropped the rod into the glowing coals, sending red sparks dancing in the air above the brazier. Then the priest sprinkled the fire with holy water and the coals hissed like a snake about to strike. Jill felt her stomach roll and she would have collapsed in a puddle on the floor if she weren't already kneeling.

The priest spoke again, saying a prayer over her for her doomed soul. "O God, the Just Judge, we humbly pray You to deign to bless and sanctify this fiery iron, which is used in the just examination of doubtful issues. If this woman is innocent of the charge from which she seeks to clear herself, she will take this fiery iron in her hands and appear unharmed. If she is guilty, let your most just power declare that truth in her, so that wickedness may not conquer justice but falsehood always be overcome by the truth. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

Bring it on, Father. I can use all the help I can get.

Then Father Gerald began giving a sermon about the three children who were tossed into the fiery furnace and survived. Jill looked from the man droning on before her to the glowing coals and back again.

Please stop talking.

But he didn't. He continued to lecture about the wages of sin, eternal damnation and the torments of hell. She looked at the brazier again.

It's hot enough
, she wanted to scream.

He extolled the saving grace of God and the blessings of living a virtuous life, but she wasn't paying attention. She couldn't take her eyes off the rod shoved in the hot coals.