back to the inn; they went off toward the old orchard.’ She pointed off in the general direction. ‘He was more dragging her along than escorting her, Erik.’
Erik had taken one step after them when Gwen held his arm. ‘Erik, I’ve been with Stefan. The last time he was here I went to his rooms at the Peacock …’ Her voice lowered as if she was ashamed to speak. ‘He left marks on me, Erik. He likes to hit while he’s having you, and when I cried, it made him laugh.’
Roo had been standing beside Erik. As Erik turned away toward the apple grove, Roo saw an expression on Erik’s face that caused him to hesitate an instant. While Erik moved away with purposeful steps, Roo grabbed Gwen by the arm. ‘Go to the Pintail and find Nathan. Tell him what happened and to come to the orchard!’
Roo hurried over to where the three soldiers watched Erik disappear into the night. One looked at Roo with an open expression of curiosity on his face, and Roo said, ‘If you don’t want bloodshed, run and find Owen Greylock and tell him to come to the old orchard.’
Roo then ran as fast as he could after the rapidly receding figure of Erik. The slender boy was one of the fastest runners in town, but Erik had already moved out of the lantern light of the square and had vanished down the street leading to the old apple orchard at the edge of town.
Roo hurried through the streets, his footfalls slapping the stones with a sound that seemed to evoke the anger and outrage in the night. Each step sounded like a hand striking a face, and with the sound, Roo felt his blood rise. Quick to anger, slow to release a grudge, Roo knew a fight was coming and was composing himself to help his friend. He didn’t like Stefan, anyway, from what he had seen of him, but as each stride took him closer to confrontation, it was turning into a serious hatred. As he left the last buildings behind, he caught a glimpse of Erik at the far edge of his vision, before he faded into the darkness.
Roo hurried after, but Erik was possessed with an outrage that lent his feet wings. Roo had never seen Erik run so swiftly.
Roo crossed the low pasture and jumped the fence that brought him to the edge of the old orchard, a favored meeting place for young lovers on warm nights. Reaching the edge of the trees, cloaked in threatening darkness after the brightly lit town square and lantern-dressed streets, Roo was forced to slow to a walk. He moved between the dark boles, then suddenly was upon Erik, who turned at his approach. Erik made a motion for silence, then whispered, ‘Over there, I think,’ as he tried to catch his breath.
Roo listened and was about to say he heard nothing over the pounding of his own heart when a faint movement, as if someone shifted his weight, could be heard, the softest rustle of cloth upon cloth. It was in the general direction Erik indicated. Roo nodded.
Erik moved like a hunter stalking prey. There was something very wrong in all of this. Rosalyn would never have come away with any boy to the orchard, for there was only one reason to be here. Rosalyn was still a virgin, of that Erik was certain, still too young to have a lover. Some girls, like Gwen, matured early and enjoyed the company of older boys, while others were shy. Rosalyn was not only shy; once outside her father’s inn she was intimidated by the company of any boys besides Erik and Roo. Even the most innocent compliment would bring a blush to her cheeks, and when the other girls started talking about the town boys, she would excuse herself in embarrassment. Erik knew in his heart she was in danger, and the silence of the orchard frightened him. If another couple had been making love anywhere within this grove, sounds would carry this quiet night.
Abruptly, both boys heard a sound that made their hair stand on end. A girl’s cry split the night, followed by the sound of a fist striking flesh, then silence. Erik leaped toward the sound. Roo hesitated an instant, then followed.
Erik ran without thought toward where the sound had come from. Then he saw Rosalyn, and his world froze for an instant. The girl lay back against the bole of a tree, her face bruised and her dress in tatters. Her blouse was torn from her, exposing her breasts, and her skirt was ripped away, with only a tattered rag around her waist. Erik could see blood running from her nose and she was without motion. Erik felt something hot and blinding rise up within him.
A sense of movement, rather than anything really seen, caused Erik to move to his right, saving his life. A searing pain erupted in his left shoulder as Stefan’s sword point pierced it. With a cry of agony, Erik felt his knees go weak from the unexpected shock. Then Roo flew past his friend, driving his head into Stefan’s stomach. Erik almost fainted when the sword point was wrenched from his shoulder. His vision swam and his stomach knotted, and he had to force himself not to lose consciousness. He forced himself back to his feet as he shook his head to clear it. The sound of Roo’s panic-stricken plea for help brought him back to alertness.
In the dark, with only the middle moon shining through the branches, he could see Roo wrestling Stefan on the ground. The smaller lad had surprised Stefan, but that advantage was now gone. Stefan was using his superior strength and size to force himself atop Roo. Only the fact that his sword was designed for fighting at arm’s length saved Roo’s life. Had Stefan held a dagger, the boy would surely be dead.
As Roo called his name, Erik ignored the terrible pain in his left shoulder and with a single step came up behind Stefan. He grabbed his half brother around the waist and yanked him up in a massive bear hug, a primitive cry erupting from his own throat. Stefan’s breath exploded from his lungs as the young smith’s powerful arms closed hard around his chest; the sword fell from Stefan’s hand as he was lifted abruptly off Roo. Held above the ground, all he could do was kick helplessly backwards at Erik and claw at his hands.
Erik stood like a man possessed by an avenging spirit as he attempted to crush the life from Stefan. He couldn’t take his eyes from Rosalyn, who lay in mute tableau, a testimony to Stefan’s cruelty. Erik had seen her naked as a child, for they had bathed together, but not since they had grown. The sight of her breasts, her own blood dripping between them, was something obscene to Erik. Lover, husband, child should have touched that flesh, with nurturing love. His Rosalyn deserved better than the rough handling of a jaded and cruel noble.
Roo rolled to his feet, his dagger pulled from within his shirt. Murderous anger flashed in his eyes as he stepped forward. Stefan struggled with hysterical strength and Erik felt his grip loosen. As Roo reached them, Erik heard a distant voice shout, ‘Kill him!’ and as Roo drove home the blade, Erik realized the voice commanding Stefan’s death was his own.
Stefan stiffened and bucked once, then went limp, and even when Roo yanked free his blade, the son of the Baron did not twitch. Erik felt his skin crawl with an otherworldly sense of disgust, as if he were holding something profoundly unclean, and he let go. Stefan fell limply to the ground.
Roo stood over him, holding the still-bloody dagger, and Erik saw rage-was still in his friend’s expression. He said, ‘Roo?’
Roo blinked and looked down at his blade, then at Stefan. He wiped the blade on Stefan’s shirt and put it away. Frustration and anger still pumped through Roo’s mind and body; in need of another target to vent them on, he aimed a vicious kick at Stefan’s body. The toe of his boot struck ribs, breaking them. With a final gesture of contempt, he spit on the corpse.
Suddenly the anger drained out of Erik. ‘Roo?’ he repeated, and his friend turned to face him.
Erik’s expression was one of confusion and Roo’s a mask of equally confused anger; a third time Erik said his friend’s name. Roo finally answered, his own voice hoarse with excitement and fear. ‘What?’
‘What have we done?’
Roo looked blankly at Erik a moment, then looked down at Stefan. Instantly what had just occurred registered on him. He rolled his eyes heavenward and said, ‘Oh, gods, Erik. They’re going to hang us.’
Erik glanced around, and the sight of Rosalyn shook him back to more pressing needs than concern over his own fate. He crossed the distance between Stefan’s body and hers and knelt beside her. She lived, but her breath was shallow and labored, and he moved her to a more upright position. He watched helplessly, not knowing if he should cover her up, or see if he could stop the bleeding from her nose, or what. Then she moaned slightly.