Medieval 02 - Forbidden

outlaw’s throat. An instant later, a large battle dagger flashed in Alfred’s hand.
    “Have you the silver?” Erik asked.
    The gentleness of Erik’s voice made Alfred wish to be elsewhere.
    Instantly.
    “Aye. Thirty pieces.”
    “Excellent. Give them to this ‘pilgrim.’”
    Alfred dropped the coins into the outlaw’s shaking hand.
    “Do you have a name?” Erik asked the man.
    “B-Bob.”
    “Bob the Backstabber, perchance?”
    The outlaw went pale. Sweat stood visibly on his face.
    “It is known throughout the Disputed Lands,” Erik said softly, “that the maid from whose wrist that bracelet came is under my protection.”
    “She be safe, lord, I swear it on my mother’s soul!”
    “It is also known what punishment will come to any man who lays hands upon Amber the Untouched.”
    The outlaw started to speak, but Erik was still talking softly, implacably.
    “Alfred, take Bob to a priest. Shrive him. Then hang him.”
    The outlaw turned and tried to flee. Erik’s foot lashed out with the speed of a snake striking. The outlaw sprawled in a smelly heap at Alfred’s feet.
    “Do not make me regret my mercy,” Erik said.
    “Mercy?” the outlaw asked, dazed.
    “Aye, creature. Mercy. Under the law, I could have your hands, your testicles, and the skin from your back before I drew your guts through your navel, quartered your body, and left your sorry, unshriven soul for the Devil to feed on until the Second Coming of Christ.”
    The outlaw made a low sound.
    “But I am merciful,” Erik said distinctly. “I will see you shrived and hanged with a shrewd knot, which is more decency than you showed the maid whose hair hangs from a silver comb and whose blood lies black upon yon dagger.”
    Fear shook the outlaw. “Ye be a sorcerer! Naught but such a man can know that!”
    “Give the silver and the rest of this creature’s goods to the chaplain for the poor,” Erik said to Alfred.
    “Aye, lord.”
    Alfred bent and began dragging the outlaw away. Just before they reached the doorway out of the great hall, Erik called out.
    “Alfred!”
    The knight stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Aye, lord?”
    “When it is done, burn the rope.”
     
    A MBER dismounted before Duncan could come around his horse to help. Her knees gave a bit, then took her weight without further protest.
    Duncan’s mouth flattened beneath his mustache at the evidence that Amber no longer sought his touch. Not that he blamed her. What should have been a sweet initiation into the mystery of sex had been accomplished with all the finesse of a bull mounting a cow.
    “Thank you, Egbert,” Amber said when the squire stepped forward to take the reins. “Has Erik returned from Sea Home?”
    “Aye. He is waiting for you in the lord’s solar. Do hurry, maid. He is in a rare mood.”
    Duncan turned and regarded the squire with speculative eyes.
    “How so?” Duncan asked.
    “He had a man hanged not an hour ago.”
    Amber turned toward him so quickly that her cowl fell away, revealing her disheveled hair.
    “Why?” she asked starkly.
    “The fellow had an amber bracelet in his purse. Rumor says it is yours.”
    A quick glance at her left wrist confirmed Amber’s fear. Where three strands of amber had been, now there were only two. In the turmoilof the battle—and of what followed—she hadn’t noticed the bracelet’s loss.
    “I see,” Amber said in a low voice.
    She picked up her skirts and began walking quickly across Stone Ring Keep’s small bailey to the forebuilding. The door stood open, as though someone inside were impatient to see her.
    Duncan caught up with Amber before she reached the entrance to the great hall. They entered the solar together.
    The sight that greeted them wasn’t reassuring. Though only one wolfhound and the peregrine were permitted into the solar’s warmth, their restlessness boded ill for Erik’s temper.
    “What is this I hear about an outlaw being hanged?” Amber said before Duncan could speak.
    After a moment, Erik set aside the manuscript he had been reading. He looked first at Amber, then at Duncan.
    “Hanging,” Erik said distinctly, “is the punishment for any man who dares to touch that which is forbidden.”
    Amber’s breath was drawn with a soft, ripping sound. Duncan had done a great deal more than touch her.
    And somehow Erik knew it.
    Erik reached beneath the manuscript and pulled out an amber bracelet. He held the gleaming jewelry out to her.
    “Yours, I