Medieval 01 - Untamed

breath. Some men like women. Some like boys. Some like giving pain. Beelzebub lived to break men stronger and more decent than he was. He had developed a rather astonishing variety of tools for that purpose.”
    A shudder went through Meg.
    â€œThe hand you hold bears the mark of the sultan,” Simon said. “If your marriage were normal, you would have seen still more scars on your husband’s body.”
    Meg turned back toward Dominic. His hand was much larger than hers, stronger, hard with the uses of war; yet he had touched her with great gentleness.
    Delicately, Meg’s fingertips traced scars long ago healed. When she came to Dominic’s fingers, her breath stopped. She had seen enough accidents with axes or stones to recognize the marks of a finger that had been smashed and had healed, but not completely. His smallest finger had only half the nail it should. His next nail held deep dents.
    â€œIt’s the same on this hand,” Simon said. “Pullingout Dominic’s nails was the least of what the sultan did.”
    A low sound of pain came from Meg. She held her husband’s hand and stroked it as though simple touch could somehow take back the cruelties of the past.
    â€œHow did Dominic win free?” Meg asked after a moment.
    â€œWhen word went out of what had happened, knights from all lords and lands gathered. When we were finished, not one stone of the sultan’s great castle was left standing.”
    â€œAnd the sultan?”
    â€œHe was dead when we found him.”
    Again, it was Simon’s voice rather than his words that told Meg the most. And his smile was like a preview of Hell.
    â€œHow?” she asked starkly.
    â€œIt was difficult to tell. You see, Beelzebub amused himself with his harem when there were no fresh infidels to torture.”
    Meg waited, afraid to breathe.
    â€œWhile the sultan’s guards were otherwise occupied, Dominic grabbed the sultan, threw him into the women’s quarters, and locked the door.”
    Simon saw the shock on Meg’s face and smiled again.
    â€œMy brother,” Simon said softly, “always understands a man’s weak points. There was nothing he could do to the sultan that would have been half so cruel or inventive as the punishment meted out by concubines who had waited a lifetime for the opportunity.”
    Dominic moved restlessly, groaned, and grabbed his shoulder. He cursed in English and Turkish, raging at a knight called Robert the Cuckold.
    â€œWhat is it?” Meg asked, looking at Simon.
    â€œRobert married a Norman wench raised in Sicily. She had a taste for men. Many of them. Robert thought Dominic was one of them, and led us into ambush.”
    â€œDominic was wounded?”
    Simon nodded. “He killed Robert and offered Marie his protection. It was the only way to keep peace among his knights.”
    Meg’s mouth flattened as she realized how the leman had come to be among Dominic’s retainers.
    â€œHow clever of Dominic to sacrifice himself for the honor of his knights,” she said sardonically.
    â€œDominic could hardly sell Marie as a slave to a sultan, could he?”
    â€œWhy not?” Meg muttered. “From what I’ve seen, the wench was born for the harem.”
    â€œYou should be grateful to her.”
    The sidelong look Meg gave Simon made him struggle not to smile.
    â€œWithout Marie—and the eager Eadith, of course—Dominic’s knights would be causing havoc among the keep’s unwilling maids. Normans are not well liked here.”
    â€œGive us time,” Meg said dryly. “That’s a fine, strapping lot of knights Dominic has, stout of arm and thick of head. I’m sure the maids will weaken soon.”
    â€œDo you think so?” Simon asked wistfully.
    â€œWhy not? In the dark, ’tis impossible to tell Norman from Scots or Saxon.”
    Simon laughed outright. “You will run Dominic a merry race, Meg. It will do him good. He is too cold since Jerusalem.”
    Smiling slightly, Meg turned aside and poured water into the metal bowl. When the cool metal rim touched Dominic’s lips, he turned away with an impatient jerk of his head.
    â€œMy brother may be delirious,” Simon said in a dry tone, “but he isn’t stupid. He would rather take liquid from warm lips than cold metal.”
    Color stained Meg’s cheeks as she took a mouthful of water, bent over Dominic, and