Chapter Twenty-Five

A lyce emerged from the squat stone building that served as the kitchen for the fortress and saw Hawk crossing the bailey with a stern look on his face. The king walked before him. Red and Hunter walked on either side of him and a contingent of the king's guardsmen behind them. Hawk's men fell into place to follow the procession as they crossed the courtyard in the direction of the training field.

She had much to do and a castle to prepare for the winter, but she followed behind the men, uneasy and curious as to what was happening.

As they reached the field, the king stopped near a sturdy fence separating training areas. Alyce stopped in the shadow of a tree, watching perplexedly as Hawk stripped his tunic and shirt from his torso and stepped up to put his hands on the top rung of the fence. Two of the guards bound his hands to the plank of wood while another man emerged, carrying a switch made up of several stripped willow branches tied together at the base. Red, Hunter, and the rest of Hawk's elite force stood in formation on the other side of the fence, facing him.

She realized with horror what was about to take place and her knees weakened while her stomach dropped. "No!" Alyce gasped, taking several quick steps toward him, but then stopped in her tracks, unsure what to do.

This couldn't be what it looked like. Hawk was the king's most favored knight, a warrior of unparalleled legend, and commander of an elite army. The king couldn't possibly mean to do something this brutal to him.

The king had swiveled at her exclamation and saw her standing a mere stone's throw away. He raised an eyebrow and then crooked one finger at her in command to come near.

Her legs felt numb, her feet like they were mired in mud, but somehow she managed to obey the king's command, walking to him on shaky legs.

"Lady Alyce," the king said in a commanding tone once she stood facing him. "Sir Grogan has explained what transpired with Cynwulf this past night."

Alyce said nothing as she dug her fingernails into her palms to keep her focus.

"Cynwulf betrayed the crown, and when he is caught, he will be punished." The king's face was stern, and he spoke matter-of-factly. "I have been told you proclaim yourself Lady of Hawkspur in his place."

"Yes, Sire," Alyce said. Her voice shook along with her nerve, but she did not shrink away from the king. She swallowed hard, and added as an explanation, "Hawkspur was built by my father's brother. I am the last of his kin, and heir after my brother."

It took every bit of her strength to face the king while doubt was suffocating her. She thought about Aelwin, Edna, Gertie, and the people in the village who were counting on her. What would happen to them if she failed?

"By Marcher customs," the king said, the disdain in his voice evident as he studied her, "Hawkspur can pass from your brother to you as the next heir in line."

Alyce raised her eyes slightly and nodded, knowing more was to come.

"I am faced with a predicament, Lady Alyce. 'Tis a dangerous time for Hawkspur to be without a strong lord to deter Welsh rebels. Cynwulf has turned traitor and, according to English law, forfeited his castle." He rubbed his short red beard, contemplating. "I cannot countenance his actions by rewarding you with the castle until I have proof of your loyalty and ability. Marcher customs will not stop me from protecting England, and your brother has proven a threat and jeopardized the safety of every life at Hawkspur."

Alyce could not stop herself from jerking her head up with indignation, mouth open to protest. Her uncle had served at the king's side in the Crusades; surely he did not doubt his loyalty. She started to say so but snapped her mouth shut before she angered him further.

Edward held his hand up to stop her from saying more. "Only a fool would allow the family of a traitor to the crown to hold a marcher castle without taking measures to ensure its stability."

"I am your servant, my lord," Alyce said with resignation, "and will abide by your wishes."

"And do you wish to keep Hawkspur as your own?"

Alyce thought over her words carefully before replying. "I love the people of Hawkspur; I feel an obligation to them and want only what is in their best interest, Sire. That being said, I believe there is no one else who will protect and fight for Hawkspur and all who reside here as fiercely as I."

"I do not doubt you are well-loved here." The king considered her for a long moment. "But make no mistake, I will not hesitate to invoke the law of war and claim Hawkspur for one of my nobles if I sense you are failing. Protecting the crown is the priority, above all else. Your brother is still alive…as far as we know," the king said with a shrug. "If I hear even the quietest whisper of a rumor that treason is underfoot at Hawkspur, I will cut you down myself."

"I understand, Sire," Alyce said, fear prickling down her spine.

"Then kneel before me."

Alyce felt the blood rush from her head, unsure of his intentions. Slowly, she knelt before the king, her knees sinking into the sun-warmed grass beneath her. The king reached for the sword at his hip and pulled it from the scabbard.

Alyce looked at the long blade of shimmering steel, a shiver running through her with the knowledge her life was about to change. She would either be acknowledged as the king's liege and Lady of Hawkspur, or she would have her head separated from her neck as a penalty for her audacity and the misdeeds of her brother.

She tried to see what was happening to Hawk, but the looming figure of the king blocked out everything else, and the soldiers behind him went silent. Alyce could see only the king and hear only her own rapid breaths; no one else existed at this moment but them.

"Do you know what you must do, Lady Alyce?" the king asked.

Alyce gulped, nodding her head as the king planted the tip of the sword in the ground in front of her. She clasped her hands around the worn grip of the sword and bowed her head.

The king placed his hands over hers, commanding, "Give me your oath."

"I swear by Almighty God to promise on my faith," she said, her voice shaking noticeably, "to bear true allegiance to King Edward of England." The strength in her voice increased with each word. She took a deep breath and focused on the big, fatherly hands wrapped around her own on the sword. "I swear the allegiance of Hawkspur Castle and all who serve me, to you and none other. We will be faithful in our service to the crown of England. We will defend you and your kingdom in good faith and without deceit."

When she was finished, she stayed where she was, her head bowed, and relief flowing soothingly through her entire being. The king knew the details of Cynwulf, yet he was still willing to take her oath. She sighed deeply, beginning to believe all would be well.

She said a quick, silent prayer that Cynwulf, too, would be well in the end, that she might see him again. The benevolence of the king gave her a spark of hope that it might actually come to fruition.

"Rise, Lady Alyce, liege lord of Hawkspur, and loyal vessel to the crown of England." The king lifted his hold on her hands over the sword grip, then extended his arm to assist her to stand.

Alyce looked at the king with overwhelming admiration and gratitude. It would be her honor to serve a man such as him, and she vowed to keep every word of her oath.

"I will install another as lord here in a single beat of your heart if you fail me, Lady Alyce," King Edward said with a stiff smile on his lips. Taking her by the arm, the king turned and led her toward the field and the men standing around Hawk, still stripped to the waist and bound to the fence.

Surely the king would release him. He couldn't follow through with this madness. Hawk was loyal to his king and had done nothing to deserve this.

"Now, Lady Alyce," King Edward said in a fatherly tone, "let me instruct you regarding an important lesson in leadership."

Alyce hesitated, but the king's grip on her arm was strong, and he did not let her falter.

"Loyalty is of utmost importance," he continued. "If you allow disobedience to go unrecognized and unpunished, you will lose the respect of those who serve you. It will be perceived as a weakness, and the vultures will descend, sensing your demise."

"He was not disloyal to you, I swear," Alyce said in a whisper, her lungs too constricted to speak any louder. "He did not betray you." She knew it was folly to argue with the king, but she could not bear to see Hawk punished for something that was not his fault.

Dear God, but it should be her lashed to the fence, not Hawk.

"Sir Grogan is my finest knight," the king continued calmly. He had stopped a short distance from Hawk. "Do you know why he is called Hawk?"

She couldn't speak. Alyce's eyes were focused on him now, on the broad expanse of his bare back and the sharp angles of his profile, to the way his skin glistened in the late autumn sun. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself protectively over his hunched body.

"I will tell you." The king's voice sounded irritatingly conversational. He spoke directly to her, but loud enough for those around them to hear his story. "Years ago, during another Welsh rebellion, we were embroiled in a bloody battle. In the chaos of men and swords and blood, I was struck from the side and knocked off my feet." The king chuckled quietly. "'Tis not something I care to admit, that I was caught off guard that way. But by God's good grace, Sir Grogan saw what happened and sprinted toward me with such speed, dodging anyone who tried to stop him. His helm had fallen off in the battle and his black hair was hanging free. What I saw was the blur of something with dark wings flying toward me, weaving between obstacles with such speed and agility. It was beautiful, I tell you, just like seeing a hawk on the hunt."

The king fell silent for a moment, looking at Hawk as she imagined a father would look proudly at a son. It made no sense to her. How could he love someone so much, yet think of punishing him in this way?

"He killed the man whose sword was just a hand's breadth away from impaling the king of England." She saw him inhale deeply, then he turned toward her again. "He saved my life that day, and for that, I will be forever grateful."

"I don't understand, sire." Alyce's words were rapid with desperation. "How can you esteem him so greatly, and then do this?" She lifted her hand limply in the direction of Hawk.

"It is because I esteem him," the king said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Hawk was given the order to determine Cynwulf's guilt or innocence, and if he was proven guilty, to bring him to me to face judgment. He not only defied my order, but he let your brother escape to Wales to join forces with Daffydd, a known enemy to the crown." He nearly spat out the name of the Welsh prince's brother, his loathing clear. "His duty was to detain Cynwulf or take his life if he must. He did neither."

"But it was not his fault," Alyce pleaded. "It was my fault. It was because of me that my brother escaped." She paused, her throat clogged with fear. "It should be me you punish."

The king looked at her the length of several pounding heartbeats, then said, "I commend you for your honesty, for taking your due part of the responsibility." He sighed and turned toward Hawk again. "I just explained to you that Sir Grogan is a knight of incomparable speed and agility with the focus and conviction of a deadly predator. There is only one thing that can sway a man such as him, and I fear he has fallen victim to it, as all men eventually do."

Alyce pinched her brows together, his words confusing.

"And though I cannot fault him for his weakness, for his moment of chivalry, he knows it will not go unpunished. Had he wanted to, he could have stopped your brother and his band of rebels from ever stepping foot outside of that forest alive." The king shook his head in dismay, then lifted a hand in a signal for the punishment to commence.

The punisher lifted his hand, the long willow branches of the switch swaying in the air as he held it high. She'd always loved willow trees, the way the wispy branches swayed and danced in the wind as they reached for the sky and then cascaded back toward the ground.

These branches were stripped bare, only small, hard knobs remaining where the leaves had once been. These willow branches were ugly…and then they were gone.

Alyce did not see the switch move, but she heard the snap as the whip-like branches connected with their target and the grunted whoosh of air from Hawk's lips as the thin lengths of willow bit into his flesh. His back was suddenly striped and discolored.

Nausea took swift hold of Alyce's gut, and she felt her legs giving out. The king put his arm around her, supporting her before she could crumple to the ground.

"I do not like it either, but we must both be here. It is my duty as king and your duty as the new liege of Hawkspur," King Edward said. His words were rough, and she was relieved he showed at least some evidence he did not enjoy watching what was happening.

The whip cracked again, and Alyce squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath and willing the flogging to be over. Hawk grunted again but did not cry out as she expected a man subjected to harsh punishment would.

"If I must give an order as distasteful as this, I do not then hide while others carry it out," the king continued. "I must not shirk the difficult tasks, or I am not fit to be a leader."

Another crack.

Another grunt.

Alyce continued to squeeze her eyes closed while the king talked to her as though explaining how a horse is to be trained.

She found it difficult to reconcile the warm, protective father figure who held her hands in his own over the grip of the sword accepting her oath of allegiance to this seeming madman who did not flinch as his most revered knight was being beaten, the switch surely ripping him to shreds.

But she couldn't look.

"My dear," the king droned. "You confessed your part in what happened. If you are to be a leader—"

Crack.

Another grunt, but this one was quieter, and she feared his life was being drained from him. Alyce's eyes flew open, horrified by the thought that he might be dying, if he wasn't dead already.

"—then you must stand by your actions," the king said, tipping his head toward the bloody body hunched forward over the fence, swaying slightly on his feet, "and take responsibility for the outcomes."

Crack.

The sound Hawk emitted this time was little more than a harrumph. His knees started to buckle but he pushed himself back to standing, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders, waiting for the next.

"You, dear lady, asked my most accomplished soldier, my most heroic soldier, to let your brother go."

Crack.

"And he did it." He sighed heavily. "I cannot fault you for your loyalty to your brother, but now you must bear the consequences of your actions just as Hawk must bear the consequences of his."

This was Hawk's punishment for choosing to honor Alyce's request to let her brother go, instead of honoring the king's command to bring Cynwulf back to face the judgment and justice of King Edward.

She stiffened, then took a small step forward, carefully shrugging out of the king's supportive embrace. She understood the situation now, the point of the king's lesson. She still thought the king a madman, but in one thing he was right: she must be strong enough to face the consequences of her actions.

The whip was raised in the air again. Alyce stood tall, shoulders straight and eyes focused on the ribbons of flayed skin and streaming blood that covered Hawk's back. If he had to endure this torture, then she would be here to suffer the agony of knowing she caused this.

The slashing of the whip as it bit through his back was horrifying, sickening, enraging. But she stopped herself from flinching, focusing instead on Hawk, this man who sacrificed all that he was, all that mattered to him because she'd asked him to.

Dear God, please let this stop!

She was not worthy of him.

The punisher's hand lifted over his head again, readying for the strike.

"Halt," the king finally called. "'Tis enough."

Red and Hunter rushed to their commander, untying the bonds while two more of his men leaped over the fence in one bound and braced themselves under his arms to bear his weight for him.

Alyce stood her ground, not moving as Hawk's men half-lifted, half-dragged him off the field, not one of them sparing her a glance. She watched them until they were out of sight, her vision blurring as she fought to keep her composure.

Her eyes burned and she wanted nothing more than to crumple into a heap on the ground and sob with frustration and anger. She looked around the field to find that everyone was gone, including the king and his soldiers. But then, she saw a figure walking toward her at a fast pace.

Aelwin.

When he got to her, he put a hand on her back to support her, then seemed to realize it was not an appropriate gesture from a commander to his liege, and quickly removed it. He swallowed audibly, and Alyce turned to him.

"My lady," he said with sympathy. "May I escort you somewhere? I can take you to the keep and send for Edna to attend to you."

She blinked back tears, dug her nails into her hands, and straightened to her full height.

"Thank you, Aelwin," she said stiffly, forcing the fa?ade of calm collectedness. "I am appreciative of your offer. Please walk with me to the keep, but when you find Edna, send her to Sir Grogan. He will be in more need of her service than I."

Her second-in-command held out his arm to her, but she declined the gentlemanly gesture with a shake of her head and a weak smile. She preferred for Aelwin to walk at her side as she started toward the keep, just as he would have done for Cynwulf.