secured my allegiance before my death.’
Robert was going to refuse. Constance could tell from the set of his jaw. The thought of Aelric’s death was unbearable to her. Shaking Jeanne’s hand from her arm, she dropped to her knees, ignoring the stiffness in her ankle.
‘You’ve shown them you can be fierce. Now show them you can be merciful,’ she pleaded. ‘There has been so much death today.’
The murmurs grew louder and angrier. Robert’s face was scarlet with fury.
‘Very well,’ he snapped. ‘He lives.’
Aelric was hauled to the foot of the gallows. The bodies were cut down and Brunwulf was dragged forward. Though his chains weighed him down he climbed the ladder unaided and stared straight ahead as the noose was passed over his head. He gave his oath of loyalty as he had promised. He cast a look at his son that spoke of so much affection that tears welled in Constance’s eyes. Then he went, face serene, to his death.
Many watching wept, Constance among them. Aelric remained dry eyed.
‘And now to deal with you. I said you’d live. I made no other promises,’ Robert said to Aelric. He turned to the guards. ‘Secure him to the scaffold. Ten lashes.’
Aelric was bound, hands high, to the frame where his father’s body hung. Constance turned to Jeanne in horror, but her sister’s eyes were blank.
‘Be silent,’ Jeanne hissed, ‘unless you want Robert to suspect the boy means more than you claim.’
The tunic was cut away, leaving Aelric’s back exposed. As the first blow struck his scream of pain tore through the marketplace. He was ready for the second and made no sound, but by the sixth his cries with each blow came as weak, throaty sobs. Constance bunched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. Only later would she notice the half-moons of blood she had raised to the surface. When the tenth stroke was done Robert strolled to where his captive sagged.
‘I have no need to keep you here any longer. Tomorrow you’ll be sent to Chester where Earl Gerbod can find a use for you in the fields or salt works.’
Robert drew a dagger, grabbed hold of Aelric’s left ear, twisting his head back.
‘I’ll leave you something to remember me by.’
He drew the tip from Aelric’s collar to below the ear then turned the blade and smoothly sliced the lobe away. The boy gave a shriek and, as this last cruelty finally broke him, slumped against the scaffold frame in a faint.
* * *
‘You shamed me in public! For that alone I should beat you until you scream!’
Robert’s rage was incandescent. Constance looked to her sister but Jeanne sat, head bowed over her embroidery, and said nothing. She would get no support there.
‘The boy did not deserve death.’
‘Never mind that. What were you doing befriending Saxon filth?’ Robert turned to his wife. ‘Madam, is your sister a wanton?’
‘No, my lord,’ Jeanne answered meekly. ‘Her behaviour is as shocking to me as it is to you.’
Constance’s scalp prickled. If Robert knew the truth about what had passed between her and Aelric his wrath would be too great to withstand. Robert seized hold of Constance by the arm and dragged her roughly to her bed, flinging her on to the straw mattress.
‘You are almost seventeen. It’s time you were married. In the morning I’m sending you to a convent until I can find a husband who can tame you.’
He stormed out, leaving Constance holding her face and trembling with anger.
* * *
She lay on the truckle until it was dark, waiting until the voices in the Great Hall were at their most raucous. She gathered what she needed and wrapped cloth around the end of her walking stick, though it was unlikely to make any noise on the rush floor. She crept from the room and passed through the Great Hall. Robert and his retinue were around the fire pit, listening to the bard singing, and did not notice her leave.
She made her way to the marketplace. There was no light other than from the sliver of moon and the square was empty, everyone having returned home before the curfew. Although a soldier patrolled the boundary of the square, no one stood guard over the figure still bound by the wrists to the gallows. Presumably Robert believed no one would dare approach him after the afternoon’s display of authority.
The iron scent of blood hit her as she neared Aelric, turning her stomach. He was leaning the full weight of his body against the frame. He groaned and turned his head at the sound of Constance’s stick tapping.
‘Constance!’
His voice was a hoarse whisper of surprise. His hair flopped across his face. Constance smoothed it back, unable to tear her eyes from the bloody scab that was his mutilated ear.
She held a flask of wine to his lips and he drank greedily.
‘You’ll get into trouble,’ Aelric said.
‘I won’t be missed.’ Constance hoped it would be true.
She tipped water on to the cloths she’d brought and began to clean the crusted blood from his back. He stiffened his shoulders and gave a sharp intake of breath. She blushed as her fingers traced the contours of his shoulder blades and muscles. She was glad of the darkness.
‘Does it hurt a lot?’ she asked.
‘I can endure the pain,’ Aelric said bitterly. ‘You should have let them hang me.’
‘You don’t mean that!’
He twisted his head and gazed at her, his brow knotted. ‘At least I’d have died with honour. You’ve condemned me to live and die a slave knowing I failed to avenge my family.’
She’d come hoping to ease his suffering, but his tone was harsher than she’d ever heard. His words cut into her deeper than the rope that had split his back open. She couldn’t have watched him die, but how could she let him live the life he described?
‘You don’t have to,’ she whispered. She looked around cautiously and drew out her dagger, one of a pair that had been the legacy from her father. The blue stone in the hilt caught the light. Aelric’s eyes fell on it.
‘Make it swift,’ he said, his lips twisting downwards.
‘I’m not going to kill you!’ she exclaimed in shock. ‘I’m not a savage! What do you take me for?’
‘A Norman,’ he said bitterly, ignoring the implied insult.
‘Your friend,’ Constance said, biting back the hurt his words caused. ‘I came to free you. You can run away.’
Aelric’s eyes flickered. ‘It’s revenge I want. Where is the honour in running?’
Constance stepped back and threw her cloth to the ground in irritation. ‘Nowhere, probably. But why throw away your freedom for the sake of pride?’
‘Pride
