Royal Sentence (Steamy Historical)

Chapter 5: Answers

Roland waited for Sabine to stop trembling; only then did he return to his seat.

Despite his curiosity about her ordeal, he refrained from questioning her further. A more detailed description was unlikely to change her fate; Louis' knowledge of the subject was too limited.

Better move on to the rest of her story.

He dipped his quill in the ink and asked: "How did you escape?"

Sabine sniffled and he lent her his handkerchief. She patted her eyes and blew her nose, and then kept her head down, refusing to meet his gaze. "I didn't. After two days they left me for dead, pillaged and set fire to the house, and ran away. A stable boy, who had managed to avoid capture, freed the servants and they carried me out. Without him, we would have burnt alive."

Sabine slumped against the wall and brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. A couple of shorter strands fell onto her eyes and she swiped them back. "I woke up in a bed in the wise woman's house, in the woods. She treated me and I stayed with her for three weeks..."

"Is that when you decided to rebel against the King?"

Sabine's eyes shot up. "I never rebelled against the King! I merely defended the peasants against the tax collectors!"

"Who were mandated by the King, which makes you guilty of treason. So when did you come up with such a brilliant idea?"

"It wasn't my idea! It was..." Sabine pressed her palm to her lips and looked away, as if she had already said too much. It was a simple trick that had got her out of trouble with the nuns before, and she prayed it would fool him as well.

"Please, elaborate. Who talked you into this?" Having dealt with many a scheming lady at court, Roland wasn't duped by her sudden shyness, but chose to give her the benefit of the doubt. He would listen to her story and then determine what pieces to believe.

Warily, Sabine glanced at the window, trying to estimate the time from the gloomy light seeping through the horn panels. She had been captured early, after the first mass, as she was visiting her parent's grave in the church. Matthieu had warned her against it, and she had chosen to ignore his advice. She thought she had been cautious. She had waited behind a pillar until all the parishioners had vacated the nave before placing the small bouquet of wild flowers on the cold stone. How could she have guessed that the two monks praying at the altar were mercenaries hired to trap her? She had paid no attention to them until it was too late, and that's what it got her.

The trip back to their camp, with her thrown across the saddle like a sack of grain, had been lengthy. Two hours, perhaps? This would put her arrival here at mid-morning. It should be close to noon now. The others would meet on the market, on the last ring of the Angelus, to decide where they would set camp for the night. If she didn't show up, they would know something was amiss, and they would disperse and vanish. Which meant she had to feed the courtier a slow enough trickle of information, that by the time he would ask her where to find them, her friends would have long retreated to safety.

"Sabine, we have been through this. Your answer, now, or will I have to extract it from you again? I gave you a small sample of what I can do to convince you earlier, and I would thoroughly enjoy another session. Unless you share my feelings on this, I strongly advise you not to push your luck." Roland scowled, and glared at her. Whatever was going on in her pretty little head better had to stop. He would not tolerate her hogwash.

She swallowed hard at his statement and he knew he had hit a soft spot, but as a soldier he was aware that this was just one battle. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again...