Chapter 23
“Stop it! How dare you be so insolent to Madam?”
“Insolent? I’m trying to help her. We can’t let her hard-won sacrifice go to waste, can we? Isn’t that right, Madam?”
Tom’s chattering mouth made Greg want to tear it apart. Yet the devil inside him held him back.
“If you keep her all wrapped up like that, the lord won’t acknowledge it.”
“I’ll kill you!”
Greg tightened his grip on Tom’s collar, but not enough to truly choke him.
“Lower the cloak.”
Tom’s gleaming gaze stripped Godiva bare.
“Shouldn’t you reveal that gracious body of yours?”
“You filthy wretch! May divine judgment fall upon you!”
The nanny’s eyes rolled white with fury, spittle at her lips, veins bulging across her wrinkled brow.
“The choice I made with such difficulty…”
At last, Godiva spoke.
“…is nothing but entertainment to the vile.”
Her fingers loosened on the cloak. The fabric slipped slightly apart.
“Miss, what are you doing!”
The nanny tried to pull it back up, but Godiva shook her head.
“Miss!”
She could not break her promise because of one low creature and let innocent people suffer hunger. Gently pushing the nanny aside, Godiva removed the cloak entirely.
“Oh!”
Tom gasped, eyes blazing.
“….”
Pure white nakedness. Greg dropped to his knees before that untainted sight.
“Miss, you mustn’t.”
The nanny urged her horse forward, blocking Godiva from view.
“Please… please, no more.”
Godiva had resolved herself the moment she spoke her vow to Leofric. She closed her eyes quietly.
“Miss… oh…”
Weeping, the nanny wrapped the cloak back around her.
Shhhh—
In that instant, a sharp blue streak cut across the Coventry sky.
Thwack!
“Aaagh!”
The scream was unmistakably Tom Tailor’s.
“My eyes! My eyes!”
The heavy scent of fresh blood filled the air. Dark red splashed against the wall of the King’s Head Inn and ran downward.
“My eyes!”
Greg trembled violently. At the far side of the street, a man astride a black horse stood—more terrifying than death itself.
“Greg, what happened to my eyes? Why do they burn like this?”
Blood pooled where Tom’s sight had been.
“My eyes!”
Greg had seen it clearly. A single arrow had flown, grazing both eyes and embedding itself in the window frame.
“I’m dying!”
Tom clawed at his face. Blood smeared thickly over his slender fingers.
“Greg! Greg!”
Struggling at the window, flailing—then suddenly losing balance—
Thud!
Something struck the ground with a sickening sound, like a crushed tomato.
“Aaaah!”
Hoofbeats followed the ragged scream. Greg stood frozen as the black shadow approached.
“Madam, please help me!”
Tom now called out to Godiva instead of Greg. A broken tooth tumbled from his bloodied mouth as he shrieked.
“I’ll testify to the lord! I’ll prove your virtue—just my eyes…!”
Godiva could not look. She could only endure the overwhelming stench of blood. The nanny quickly pulled her mistress into her arms and covered her ears.
Clop.
Clop.
Stop.
The horse halted.
“Who is it?!”
Tom screamed in terror.
“No—don’t take my head!”
He clutched his own neck as if expecting it to fall.
“I’ll tell the lord of her good deed! Please, spare my head!”
He howled and howled. Then, above him, someone laughed coldly.
“Thank God!”
The nanny called on God’s name and pressed her hands tighter over Godiva’s ears.
“There is no need for proof.”
A voice—dark, heavy—saturated with absolute fury.
What is happening…?
Godiva knew nothing. The nanny held her firmly, her face buried against a trembling chest. Her ears rang; her breath felt stifled.
Snort—
The horse tossed its head.
Clink.
The chilling sound of metal striking metal echoed through the silent street.
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