| |
Ernesto reached for Morena’s hand. “You have arrived just in time. The dinner feast is just beginning. Come and greet our guests.”
Morena yanked her hand away.
Ernesto’s eyes narrowed. His back straightened.
She stood trapped at the entrance of the castle. The guardsmen who brought her here stood behind her. Ernesto loomed before her. “I decline. I don’t wish to sit at table with someone who courts by capture.”
Anger at her treatment surfaced. Morena clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I insist that you release me immediately.”
“You will do what I tell you,” Ernesto commanded sharply. This time when he reached for her hand, he gripped her wrist hard enough to cause pain.
Morena resisted, but failed to free herself from his grasp. Fright parched her constricted throat. Ernesto all but dragged her down a stark corridor. He pushed past a servant who stood before a set of oak doors.
Inside the derelict great hall, activity stopped. No one spoke. All heads turned to stare. Even the hounds looked away from discarded bones and scraps of food.
“Good nobles of Savona!” Ernesto maintained a deadly grip on her wrist and raised it high in the air. “Behold my betrothed, Morena of Portovenere!”
Silence followed. One man stood to clap. Another raised his tankard.
Soon, the entire room applauded and cheered.
Anger flashed deep within Morena. She tugged her hand free and turned to flee.
Ernesto moved quickly. He caught her by the arm and wrenched it behind her back. “Stop struggling or I’ll break your arm in two,” he threatened through clenched teeth and led her to the head table.
“This is unspeakable.” Morena had no choice but to acquiesce until she could find a way to escape this nightmare. How could her father have betrothed her to such a beast?
When they reached the first step of the dais, Morena looked up at the high table. Dressed in a golden tunic that revealed more than it covered, Laria stared down at her with a cat-like grin of smugness. The woman stirred the contents of her goblet with her index finger and put it to her mouth to lick it dry.
Ernesto pushed Morena up the steps. At the high table, he took the seat next to Laria and forced Morena on the other side of him.
“So, we meet again, Contessa,” Laria said with a cold edge in her voice.
Amused, Ernesto leaned back in his chair to allow the discourse between the two women to flow unimpeded.
Morena leaned across Ernesto to address her nemesis. “That is a flattering tunic you are wearing, a perfect colour to disguise flesh that sags with fat.”
Laria coloured fiercely and appraised Morena. “At least I’m well-dressed for the dinner feast.”
“Had I known I was invited to dine with you this evening, I would have dressed appropriately. I don’t wish to overshadow your presence, especially since you are unaccustomed to the high table.”
“I’m as accustomed to sitting here as you are. I sat at high table with Duke Amoro far too many times to recount.”
“Yes, I can imagine. What choice did he have? You refused to go away, just like the annoying drip from one’s nose when ill with the ague.”
Laria lunged at Morena.
Ernesto raised his arm to block her and laughed aloud. “Enough! I admire women who are firebrands, but I weary of your sparring.” He waved to several servants to deliver their meal. One slopped a ladle of fish stew onto Morena’s trencher while another poured wine into a goblet for her. Morena could not eat or drink although she did her best to hide her inner turmoil.
Ernesto fixed a wary eye upon her, oblivious to her anxiety. He called repeatedly for a servant to fill his goblet. “Come, come, surely after a long day’s ride, you have an appetite?” A page held out a chipped clay bowl filled with water. He dipped his fingers and flicked them free of excess water. Then he reached for the drying cloth the page handed him.
“I want you robust and healthy to breed sons.” He spoke with an innocuous voice, his face mundane, graciously intent.
“You will not set a hand on me,” she replied.
He grinned and snapped his fingers to summon a serving maid. He held out his goblet for her to pour wine. “Oh, you err if that is what you believe, tesora. May I remind you that a lawfully witnessed and signed betrothal document exists between us?”
Morena’s fury rose. It would do her no good to provoke him. She bit back the vile words that sought to erupt. The meal progressed. For Morena, time dragged and every moment of this ordeal seemed like a nightmare. The people in the dingy hall watched them constantly. They didn’t react when Ernesto’s hand faltered and he tipped his wine goblet and splashed wine everywhere.
Ernesto tried to push back his chair, but he leaned too far and tumbled backward. A servant ran forward to help him stand, but Ernesto shoved him away. He managed to totter to his feet, grappled about for Morena’s wrist and tried to haul himself up. Instead, he tumbled backward and pulled Morena down with him. She struggled to free herself.
“Time to take you to bed.” His voice slurred, each word formed with effort.
Laria’s features became more animated and she smirked.
Morena maintained her composure, aware of the hushed crowd and their hard stares upon her. Ernesto gripped her wrist and clumsily manoeuvred through the maze of trestle tables to the main doors. The silence of the assembled guests hung uncomfortably in the air.
He led her to the upper storey to a dark bedchamber within which a fire emanated a delicate light. Ernesto let go of her wrist and staggered to the far end of the room to a table where he removed a candle from the candelabra. He returned to the fire, lit the candle, and teetered back to light the other candles. With each new flame, the room brightened.
Morena scanned the room. The large bed in the centre of the room became more clear, its presence an ominous threat.
Ernesto slumped down into a nearby chair. His eyes darkened dangerously, his gaze turned sharp. “Remove your clothes.”
“No.” Morena took a step back.
“You are to be my wife. You will do as you are told.” He rose so fast, she failed to evade him. He grabbed her upper arms. “You are in no position to argue. Take off your clothes.”
She pulled back. “No. Please leave the bedchamber and summon a maidservant for me.”
“Not tonight. I want to test your wares. After all, we are well betrothed and shall be married soon. There is no need for me to wait to bed you. Undress.”
Morena didn’t move.
“Do as I say!” His bellow shook the room.
“No.”
For a brief instant, he hesitated. His eyes burned with a faraway look in them. Then he shook his head. “The sooner you learn to be a good wife, the better it will go for you,” he rasped with menace. Then he sprang.
Morena dodged him. He toppled to the floor. A growl escaped his throat as he rose and whirled to face her. She sprinted to the door and fumbled to raise the latch. It lifted part way, but Ernesto came up behind her and slammed it back down with his fist. When he seized her arm and yanked her around, she ingested a waft of wine-infused breath.
She flailed and kicked. Although drunk, Ernesto proved stronger and took no notice of her resistance. He dragged her to the bed. He held her tight with one arm. With his other, he grabbed a drying cloth next to the urn on the night table. He stilled her thrashing wrists and wound the cloth tightly around them. Ernesto tethered her securely to the bedpost.
Breathless, he stood and studied her. His eyes glowed with a savage inner fire as he withdrew a small dagger.
Morena gasped. Fear and fury caused her heart to hammer. She drew ragged breaths.
At her reaction, his smile intensified. Her breath solidified in her throat as she trembled spasmodically.
He leaned close. His wine-soured breath fell upon her with disgusting intensity. With an unsteady hand, he sliced through her clothes and reduced her tunic and kirtle into a pile of vivid tatters, her naked body exposed.
The shock of defeat and her outrage held her immobile. He turned around and went to a trunk in the corner of the chamber where he removed a riding whip. The bang of the trunk’s lid as it slammed shut caused her to jump. Ernesto returned to her side and flexed the whip. “I see that I shall have to teach you the meaning of obedience,” he said with menace.
She felt helpless. With his foot, he rolled her over. A whoosh resounded. The whip struck. Then it struck her again. She clamped her jaw tight to deny him the pleasure of her cries. She lost count of the number of strikes, but finally, he stopped. Pain burned her entire backside. Morena lay motionless, barely mindful of his touch as he untied her.
Ernesto rolled her onto her back, pressed his mouth to her ear, and whispered, “I’ll undress.” The hot stink of his breath on her face caused her stomach to lurch. “I shall see you are not disappointed this night.”
His gaze moved slowly down her body as he removed her bindings.
Her entire body throbbed. Streaks of blood from her wounds stained the bed covers. Yet, she remained determined not to reveal her fear. She ignored the urge to wince and rose to her feet. She clutched what remained of her severed gown to her and stood before him.
Already naked, he swayed in drunkenness. “What do you think you are doing?” he slurred, his member erect. “Get on the bed.” With a shove of his hands, he pushed her back down onto the mattress.
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and boldly met his gaze. “No, you will not touch me. Get out.”
He frowned with cold fury and leaped forward to grab her.
She raked her fingers down his cheek. Three streaks of dark blood dripped from the wound.
Ernesto cursed and punched her so hard in the face that she fell to the floor. He reached down, pulled her up by the hair and shoved her onto the bed. He thrust his hand between her legs and probed. Quickly, he removed his hand.
“Whore! Do you think I’m a fool? You are not a virgin. You dare to come to me spoiled.” Ernesto punched her in the face. The pummelling continued until she succumbed to blackness.
***
MORENA DRAGGED HERSELF to the chamber pot beneath the bed and retched into it. Naked, she lay beside the pot and rested her head in the filthy rushes until she re-mustered her strength.
Ernesto snored on the bed. Slowly, she sat up and felt around her neck for the bloodstone pendant. She clutched it in her palm, finding comfort in its weight, thankful it still hung around her neck. Her body trembled uncontrollably. She retrieved her torn tunic and wrapped it around her shoulders. Every movement brought pain as she stepped towards the door. Before she reached it, Morena collapsed.
***
PAIN FROM HER BRUISED body awoke Morena. She glanced around the room. The memory of what transpired consumed her. The fire crackled.
Silvia bent over her.
“Silvia...”
“Hush, my lady.” Silvia placed a cool wet cloth on her forehead.
“Where is he?” Morena tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea swept through her and she flopped back down.
Silvia remained tight-lipped. “I have sent for hot water and salves.”
Smears of blood still stained the bed covers. When the ointments and water arrived, Silvia washed and dressed the cuts. Afterwards, she helped her dress.
“Where is Cristina?”
Silvia shook her head. “After they captured and brought us here, they separated us. I have not seen her since. I knew nothing until a guard came to my chamber and brought me to you.”
A prisoner, Morena thought. Could she escape? What happened to Cristina? A sense of hopelessness engulfed her at the realization she could do nothing. From the corner of her eyes, Morena spied the whip.
Regardless of the pain that shot through her, she bent over to pick it up and cast it into the fire. Morena turned back around. “Was Duke Ernesto here when you came in?”
Silvia’s expression turned into a wide grin. “He left just as I entered.
The wounds on his face will tarry a long while.”