Page 55 of The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past #4)

FORTY-SEVEN

Norham Castle, Northumberland

Guy stood at the back of the crowd assembled in the bailey, waiting for the prisoners to be brought forth.

A platform had been erected, elevated high enough so everyone could see clearly.

They were meant to see, and to reflect on the fate of those who had chosen the wrong side.

Today, they would pay for their deeds, and their loyalty to a sovereign they’d sworn their allegiance to long before Edward IV took the throne.

Guy still bristled when he thought of his final encounter with Hugh, but he had to give his brother credit.

Hugh had been right to trust his instincts and change sides after the Battle of Towton.

Had they not, it could have easily been one of them up on that platform, or both, with Adam dispossessed and stripped of his title by association.

The king was weary of fighting, and Warwick was growing tired of putting down uprisings in the north, a simmering cauldron of dissent always ready to boil over in rebellion .

A hush fell over the crowd as Warwick’s men brought out the leaders of the rebellion.

They were dressed in breeches and shirts, their feet bare, and their faces gray in the golden sunshine warming their shoulders for the last time.

They were no longer wealthy, powerful men, but defeated soldiers, frightened but defiant to the last.

Guy hadn’t witnessed many executions, but he was keenly aware of the difference between the executions of felons and soldiers.

When a felon was executed, the crowd jeered and often threw rotting fruits and vegetables at the condemned.

They viewed the execution as a spectacle, something to break the monotony of their lives and discuss for several days afterward, especially if the death proved to be a particularly gruesome one.

When the executions of soldiers were witnessed by other soldiers, the atmosphere was solemn.

The men stood around silently, wary and watchful.

They understood all too well that these were men of honor who had fought for their king and risked their lives for their beliefs despite the danger to themselves and their loved ones.

All too easily, the positions could be reversed, and any man in the crowd could be facing the axman, his death watched over by his sworn enemies and regarded as a casualty of war.

Many of these men, particularly those of high rank, would not receive a Christian burial, at least not right away.

Their heads would be mounted on spikes as a lesson to those who chose to take up arms and challenge the unstoppable force that was Warwick’s army.

Guy stood shoulder to shoulder with several other knights, their eyes fixed on the platform.

He winced as the thwack of an ax was followed by a thud as the first head hit the basket set beneath the condemned.

The executioner held up the head for all to see, the lower half of his masked face the only part visible, set in grim lines.

No one enjoyed this, least of all the victorious Warwick, who’d been denied the opportunity to bury his own father and brother after their executions several years back.

Warwick had traveled the length and breadth of the country, putting down rebellions, relieving sieges, forging alliances, and seeking truces.

He rarely saw his countess or his daughters, who were nearly of marriageable age, something Warwick must have been keenly aware of as he toiled tirelessly on behalf of the king.

Guy had heard the talk at Middleham Castle while he was there.

Warwick meant to marry his daughters to the highest-ranking nobles in the land, the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of Gloucester, brothers to the king.

Should Edward die without leaving a son, one of Warwick’s daughters would become the Queen of England, most likely Isabel since it was rumored that she was meant for George, Edward’s middle brother.

Warwick fought like a lion, because in the end, he’d be the power behind the throne regardless of whether Edward had a son.

Guy waited until the executions were over, then joined a few other men for a game of hazard in the great hall.

The wine flowed freely, provided by Warwick himself to help the men forget what they’d just witnessed.

Except for the squires, they were all seasoned soldiers and had seen death in all its forms, but one didn’t easily forget half a dozen beheadings.

Guy accepted more wine from a serving wench and tossed it back as if it were water.

A part of him wished he could visit Castle de Rosel and see the family before heading north tomorrow.

Warwick meant to pursue the fleeing Scottish army to teach them a lesson, and the Yorkist forces would set off first thing in the morning, marching for southern Scotland.

Guy set down his cup and stepped out into the corridor.

The earl would give him permission to leave for a few hours if he asked it, but he wasn’t at all sure he wished to go.

He knew he had to make peace with Hugh. They were brothers, and the rift between them had not been caused by anything more serious than wounded pride.

Hugh would welcome Guy back, as Kate had said in her letters.

It was Kate that Guy was afraid to see. Rose had been the first in a string of casual dalliances, but Kate’s face was the last thing he saw before he fell asleep at night, and her name the first word that came to his lips when he woke.

He missed her sweet smile and her serious eyes, and he envied his brother bitterly.

Hugh didn’t appreciate the rare woman he had.

Had Guy been the one to marry Kate, he wouldn’t care if she gave him sons—although imagining his babe at her breast made him sick with longing.

He would value her and love her for all his days, and be happy to remain at home, just to be close to her.

Guy sighed and returned to the hall, having changed his mind about seeking out Warwick.

He had no wish to go home, not until he was ready.

Hugh, damn his eyes, was right. It was time he thought of marrying.

He needed to assure his own future and stop mooning over his brother’s wife, who’d be forever out of his reach.

Guy staggered away from the gaming table and found a quiet place to bed down.

He needed sleep, but when he closed his eyes, all his saw was Kate’s beautiful face and a basketful of severed heads.