Page 39 of Burying Venus
The judge’s head stuttered between the crowd and Thorne. ‘Remove the woman,’ he intoned.
Two of the men who’d so eagerly grabbed Aubrey barrelled across the courtroom, apprehending Breesha in an instant. As she cried out in protest, not pain, the crowd laughed as if attending a pantomime. When she passed Dermot, she shouted, ‘Shame on you!’
At least she did not name him as her own son. That would’ve ended with the two of them on the scaffold. Of course, unbeknownst to his mother, the aunt had already named her as a witch.
‘You see the great evil that takes hold in a town after but one witch has been found!’ Thorne said. His gentle voice faltered, unused to such commotion. He stood leaning against the stand clutching his chest, blood trickling down his chin.
Weston stood and, in a great show of stupidity, called out Thorne’s true name in error. This small revelation set the crowd ablaze. They began hollering and jumping, incredulous that such an important foreigner would come to their island. The judge’s face was impassive, and Dermot realised he must’ve known.
‘I…’ Thorne murmured, scarcely able to hold himself up. ‘They are witches. I know it to be…’
The crowd exulted at their own kind being condemned. Witch, they all cried out, a cacophony so strong Dermot’s hands instinctually went to his ears.
‘Witches,’ the judge echoed.
Thorne’s body came to life like the deaths of two innocents restored him. ‘As my partner and I have done before, I feel we must do again. If witchcraft is an evil done through holy law, rather than natural law, it is right that instead of hanging on the noose, they should be burnt at the stake.’
As the crowd howled their approval, Dermot took his hands from his ears and pressed them to his face, already wet with tears.
Chapter Nine
Whatever happened, the castle remained the same. None of the servants acknowledged the business with the witches, and Dermot himself was cast out. Not once had he been called to the kitchen, receiving only a missive from Béchard each day detailing menial tasks to be completed.
His sleep since the incident had been fitful and almost non-existent. He was hardly a man at all now, stumbling around the place as he did. He was more awake when he fumbled about in restlessness than he was in the daytime, bent over a bucket brimming with waste.
Turning onto his side and kicking the sheet so it would cover his cold feet, Dermot grasped a handful of bedding and held it in his fist. Shifting again, he hit something hard.
‘What?’ Dermot said, hands going immediately to what lay at his side. His fingertips settled on warm flesh, and at this he jerked backwards as if burnt.
‘Dermot,’ came that sweet chime, a melody unsung. ‘I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?’
‘Maldred!’ Dermot shouted, forgetting himself until those soft hands pressed against his lips.
‘You needn’t shout. Don’t forget, your two friends lie sleeping here, and we wouldn’t want to wake them.’ Maldred laughed and, tracing his fingers from Dermot’s lips to his chest, mapped out the length of him. ‘Such a strong man. You’re all the more appealing now.’ Going to Dermot’s torso and grasping the hard muscle, a particularly long fingernail pierced Dermot’s skin.
Shifting away, mindful that Will’s bed lay but a few steps from his own, Dermot shuddered at the weakness of his body.‘Now you’ve come to me,’ Dermot began, gathering his courage, ‘you must know that the boy and his aunt are set to be burnt tomorrow. What would you have me do? Please, I cant bear…’ Here he paused, absurdly terrified of telling a pretty young man what ailed him. If Maldred loved him for his strength, he could never speak plainly.
‘Silly,’ Maldred said. Dermot was rendered placid and altogether stupid as the boy sat astride him. Leaning down and tracing Dermot’s lips with his own, he gave a gentle lick. ‘What did I tell you last time?’
‘Do nothing,’ Dermot said, though he could hardly speak.
‘And so you have done,’ Maldred said, twirling fingertips around Dermot’s cloth bottoms.
‘I cannot think you mean to see two people burnt!’ Dermot burst out, slapping Maldred’s hands away. He watched fascinated as Maldred flinched at his strength.
‘Quiet!’ Maldred said, shushing him like a child. ‘You are lucky I saw fit to put a barrier around us, else your friends would have woken.’
That might have been the best option. At least Will, after considerable surprise, would’ve realised Dermot was not solely at fault. But suspicion likely already ran rife throughout the castle so they all might’ve been preparing to take against him. Being barred from the kitchen, he had already been ostracised from their little society.
‘Do you remember when you last saw me, you told me you loved me?’ Maldred said, the two of them lying in a deadlock.
Rarely was his heart so light, this rare joy given freely to other men like a weight lifted from him. All that could be felt was his pleasure as they rocked back and forth, Maldred having mounted him. The faerie moaned as if they were engaging in the act rather than mimicking it, drifting his hands further down so Dermot belatedly realised his aching cock lay bare.
‘What do you mean by this?’ Dermot said, pushing himself up. ‘You do not wish to see people hurt, I know it.’
‘Do you?’ Maldred said. Dermot moved to push him away, disturbed, until Maldred again came to his cock. ‘You are right, of course. I would not wish harm on any of our people.’
‘Then why…’ Dermot began, as Maldred’s hands twisted around his cock. The faerie was delicate, watching him without malice, though his eyes pierced like Thorne’s. ‘Do you love me as well, Maldred?’