The Blood Gospel

A soldier picked up the still-living girl and carried her to the barren fireplace. He gave her his coat and lit a fire, his eyes focused on his task. Rhun closed her friend’s eyes for the last time. Both so young, barely out of girlhood.

A scream cut through the castle. The Palatine cocked his head, as if to locate the sound. Rhun knew where it came from. Elisabeta’s private chambers.

He stood and led.

One of the men at arms followed close on his heels. The Palatine seemed to have lost his taste for leadership and trailed near the back. Elisabeta had once called him cousin. The Palatine had chosen the other noblemen because of their ties to her. Each was married to one of her daughters. She would be taken in the presence of nobility, as her stature required.

Rhun pushed open Elisabeta’s bedroom door. Inside, a child sobbed in a black corner. Another girl stood in a spiked cage suspended high in the air. Elisabeta stood, naked under it. Two servants swung it from side to side, slamming the girl’s soft body against the cage’s sharpened spikes. Crimson dripped on Elisabeta’s white skin.

Horrified, Rhun fought back tears. He had brought them to this.

The men at arms rushed to apprehend the servants and stop the cage from swinging.

Now the Palatine stepped forward again. “Lady Widow Nádasy, I arrest you in the name of the king.”

“You shall pay dearly for this intrusion.” Elisabeta made no attempt to cover her nakedness. Dark hair swung across her white back as she turned to face the men.

Her face set when she recognized them. “So.” A smile hardened her lips. “You have come to die.”

Rhun stepped between her and the men. She could kill them all, but not him. He drew a knife from his sleeve.

“Please,” he said. “Don’t make me do this.”

She stumbled back. “What more would you take from me, Rhun?”

He flinched, then held the knife out where she could see it.

Her lovely silver eyes lingered on the blade. “That is all you have to pierce me with, priest?”

He moved closer. The warm blood smell rising off her skin intoxicated him. He fought his desires.

“Careful, darling,” she whispered. “I have seen that look on your face before.”

He murmured a prayer, then looped a silk cord around her bare wrists and bound them together.

“There is blessed silver inside,” he told her. “If you try to break free, it will burn to the bone.”

“Cover her,” ordered the Palatine.

The Palatine threw a soiled blanket across her bloodstained shoulders.