The Gypsy Queen (54 page)

  “I told you that you would be hanged, if you came here,” he said.

  “Aye, your majesty,”
Yana
said.

  “I told you I cannot undo it!” Bastion said, his panic getting worse.

  “You did tell me that, Sire,”
Yana
agreed.

  “Have you come here,
to your own death?” Bastion asked
.

  “Aye.”

  “No! No! This cannot be! This.... no! I will not have it!” Bastion shouted, as he began to pace the room. The thought of
Yana
hanging dead from a rope was a horror that struck fear in him. He could not be asked to do such a thing.

  He could not kill his beloved little gypsy.

  He would not.

  “King Bastion,”
Yana
said, standing up. “Whether I hang or not, I will still be gone from you. I will not live a life, gone from you. I will not live a life of g
uilt, having betrayed my beloved
King. Whatever I must do, to make it right with you, I have come to do. If it requires my death, then so be it. As long as I am restored to you.”

  Bastion paced
with his staff
, as he looked at her. She looked so very, very beautiful.

  “You cannot ask me to do this,” Bastion said.

  “I ask nothing,”
Yana
said. “Do as you will. You are the King.”

  “Then run! Flee from here! Go, and be free!” Bastion said.

  “I can
not. I can never be free, ever again, except at your feet. Only with you, am I free,” she said. Otta finally spoke up.

  “
Yana
, you ask of your King something you must not ask,” Otta said.

  “I ask of my King, to be my King. He accepted the charge, to do his job. I know Bastion to be a man of excellence. He does his job, even if it costs everything,” she said.
“At least he will live out his days never in question about my love for him.”

 
Yana
’s heart was grieved, to see Bastion in conflict. She did not want to hang, but it was far better than to live a life of guilt, shame and heartbreak. After she had tasted the honor that Bastion had given her, nothing else would do. This was the only way to gain honor once more.

  “Nooo!” Bastion screamed. “Run,
Yana
! Run!” he tried to pull on her, and drag her towards the door. She allowed him, but as he released his grip a moment, she ran back to the throne, and cast herself to the floor in front of it, kneeling. Bastion limped back to her, and grabbed her again, pulling her away.

  “No
,
Yana! No! Please do not do this to me!” he dragged her partway across the floor, falling backwards himself.
Yana
dragged herself back, and knelt before the throne. Bastion dragged
himself across the floor awkwardly towards her.

  “No,
Yana
, I love you, I love you,” he said, cupping her face in his hands.
Yana
looked him in the eyes.

  “Ya tebya lublu, my King,” she said. Never had she looked so naked, as when Bastion gazed into her eyes. There was no guile. No fear. No dread. No pain. Her love for him shone in her eyes, impaling Bastion with the most intense love and agony of his life. 

  “I will never run from you again,”
Yana
said. “I belong to you. My heart belongs to you. It always has. It always will. I am sorry I failed you. I know that if I had more time, you would have strengthened me, so I would not fail.

  “But see, Bastion,” she said. “You have already strengthened me thus. You must be strong too. If you love me, you will restore me to you. If it must be at the end of a rope, I will accept it.”

  “No!” Bastion raged, getting up. “I will not do this!”

  “
Yana
,” Otta said. “This cannot be undone. You have killed the King’s enemy, and you have saved the King’s life. For that, you may walk out of here in exile. But you have committed treason. If you do not walk out of here right now, there will be no going back.”

  “Aye,”
Yana
said. “But I have already lost my life, if I have lost my King.”

  “You want me to order your hanging?” Bastion said, in shock.

  “Do as you will, my King,”
Yana
said. “Do as you must.”

  Bastion was horrified beyond sanity. Otta looked at him, waiting to see what he would do. It was Bastion’s greatest, most frightful test. He looked at her, as she knelt before his throne. His stomach churned in despair. He wanted healing for her, and happiness. Not this.

  Not this.

  No longer was it what he wanted. What he wanted was to make sure she got what she needed. He had to be sure not to fail her. He spoke to Otta, without looking away from the precious gypsy who knelt before him.

  “Prepare the gallows,” he said, the worst order he could ever give.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 
Yana
walked outside in shackles. Soon,
she would be truly free. She entered
a small courtyard on the back side of the palace. It was not to be a public hanging, as Bastion would not disgrace her that way. There was a small gallows, and a man there dressed in black. She wondered if it was someone she knew, one of the black riders perhaps.

  Bastion and Otta were there, and the Chamberlain.
Yana
was afraid, and tried to draw on Bastion’s strength for courage, as she had many times before.

  “Please lover,” she turned to him, “kiss me goodbye.” Bastion could not bear it. He wanted to collapse, and cry, and scream, and fight. Yet he was King. He had to keep it together somehow. He held her face and kissed her. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. Tears blurred his visi
on so much, he could see little
. He released her, and the guard began to walk her to the steps of the gallows.

  “Wait!” a man shouted. “Wait!” The old magistrate came hustling into the small courtyard, having gotten the news of
Yana
’s arrival.

  “Quiet,” Otta told him. It was the most somber of events, not to be interrupted.

  “No,” the magistrate said. He turned to Bastion. “There is another way.”

  “HALT!” Bastion ordered, to the guards. “What way?”

  “Treason is the only charge that cannot be pardoned,” Otta said.

  “Yes, yes, that’s true. Ancient law. Good law,” the magistrate said. “But it is possible that the sentence be commuted.”

  “Commuted?” Bastion said. “What do you mean?”

  “The sentence can be commuted,” the magistrate said. “It could be years in the dungeon. Or, it can be lashes, for instance.”

  “What is the minimum sentence for this crime? The subject has offered mitigation. She killed the enemy, she preserved the King, and has surrendered willingly. What is the minimum sentence for her treason?” he pushed urgently. The magistrate did not hesitate.

  “Ten lashes,” he said. “Ten lashes with the whip.”

  Bastion looked at Otta, and then at
Yana
.

  “If
Yana
receives the ten lashes, the treason could be satisfied?” Bastion asked.

  “Yes, your highn
ess,” the magistrate said. “It c
ould satisfy the charge.”

  “Release her,” Bastion commanded. The guards hurriedly complied.

  “
Yana
,” he said, “you can still walk out of here. Run, and never return.”

  “I will live no life, unless I am restored to you. I shall not run,” she said.

  “You are willing to receive this sentence?” Bastion asked, desperate.
Yana
set herself at his feet once more, kneeling before the King.

  “Do as you will, with me,”
Yana
said. “I am yours.”

  “Will you receive it now?” Bastion said.

  “I will do as you wish, my King,” she said. “But please- command me. I am afraid, but I will do as you command. Please have mercy, and be swift.”

  “
Yana
, I command you to submit yourself to receive your punishment, for the charge of treason. “

  “Yes, my Lord,” she said, still on her knees.

  The men quickly made adjustments, and arranged for what Bastion had called for. They brought out restraints, and attached them to a thick stump in the ground, there in the courtyard. The man in black held a large, menacing whip.

  “You must undress,” Bastion said.
Yana
obeyed. She stripped down, letting her gypsy dress and garments fall to the ground. Bastion watched her, as she moved deliberately and efficiently. She stood before him, wearing only a small garment around her waist, and the wildflowers still in her hair. Her bare breasts showed her vulnerability, just as well as her bare back.

  “Please, my King
,” she said, “
Restore me by your own hand.” Bastion intended to. He took the whip from the man, and excused him and the other guards. Bastion and
Yana
remained, with Otta, the Chamberlain and the magistrate as witnesses. Bastion led her to the post, and she knelt before it.

  “You may do this without any shackles, since you have come of your own will. I will restrain you, if you wish it,” Bastion told her quietly.

  “Bond me,”
Yana
said. “I need
your bond
s
.” She would not allow herself to disappoint the King again, and she knew the bonds would help her. Bastion took the leather restraint, and secured it around her neck. He hooked the small chain to it, and hooked it to the post. He bound each hand with a leather strap, and hooked them to the post with a chain as well.

 
Yana
knelt, her eyes closed in reverence, as though she were in a sanctuary. She was determined.

  Bastion trembled. He did not want to do this. He did not want her to be hurt at all. He had no choice but to do this, no matter his reluctance. He would prefer to take the lashes himself. He could not.

  Bastion leaned in close to her.
Yana
could sense him.

  “My love,” she said, “I am afraid.”

  “Have courage,” Bastion said, gripping her hand. “I need you to have courage and endure.” Bastion wondered if he himself had the courage to do it.

  “Yes, my King. I will do as you say.” She kept her eyes shut. Bastion set a leather strap in her mouth, around the back of her head.

  “Bite down on this,” Bastion said. “It helps.”

Bastion stood back, and took a look at her. Even now, in betrayal, in bonds... she had found a way to be more beautiful than he could imagine. He hefted the whip. He was expert with it, but it was a cruel whip, with a jagged edge.

CRACK!

  Bastion felt the weight of her body, as the whip stung it.
Yana
jerked in pain, gasping from it. It was severe.

CRACK!

 
Yana
whimpered as her body shook. She wanted to flee from the acute pain. She was grateful for the restraints. Bastion’s bonds were preventing her from failure. They were saving her life. She remembered when Bastion had ordered her, on the ship, to tie herself to him. He had saved her.

CRACK!

  The whip drew up a massive welt, layering across the other two.
Yana
screamed into the leather gag. The pain was blinding. Tears leaked from her eyes, as she clenched them shut.

CRACK!

The whip opened her skin, and she began to bleed. She howled and sobbed, jerking hard against the chains.

Bastion could not bear the sight. He wanted to save her. Release her. Set her free. Anything, but this. Instead, he had to do his job. He had to give her what she had earned, both in failure, and in c
ourage. He would not deny her that
.

CRACK!

  That lash opened her skin again, laying a line of fresh blood open across her back. Bastion wished that someone could rescue him as well.
Yana
screamed at the strike. Her mind was a blur of pain. She was sobbing uncontrollably.