“The nerve of you, Owain, tying Connek up and sending him here for my judgment. I now deem that Connek has done no wrong. He is to be released.”
Erbin stepped forward. “I shouldn’t flog him?”
“No. Instead, you will whip the young monk.”
Merlin closed his eyes. This was his fault. He should never have cajoled Garth into walking up the hill past Tregeagle’s house. Garth hadn’t wanted to go that way — he’d been frustrated that the longer path would prolong their coal-gathering task. If Merlin hadn’t convinced him, none of these horrors would have occurred.
Garth blubbered. Prontwon bent over and put his arm around the boy.
Tregeagle continued. “Not the full nineteen lashes, considering his age. Nine should be sufficient to teach a lesson. Guard, go and free the prisoner.”
“Yes, sir.” One of the guards left the room.
Merlin couldn’t believe Connek would be set free.
Prontwon bowed before Tregeagle. “Is there some other punishment you would accept?”
“Gold. It has been the lifeblood of the empire, and I will accept it instead of the boy’s blood. Three gold coins I ask. One for every three lashes, and I will halt the judgment.”
Prontwon sputtered. “Magister, we —”
“Gold!” Tregeagle thundered. “Surely you monks have some squirreled away. Gold!”
“We are a poor abbey. We have not even one gold coin.”
“Then my judgment stands.”
“I beg you, allow me to take this punishment on his behalf.”
Tregeagle pulled Prontwon up while laughing in his face. “You fool. You think I will have it said that I flogged the abbot of Bosvenna? An absurd request, Prontus!”
Guilt and remorse battled a rising anger in Merlin’s heart as he listened to the exchange. Garth had done wrong, but nine lashes? He was just a child.
Abbot Prontwon tried again, “Mercy, Magister —”
“Mercy?” Tregeagle shouted. “The only one whom I would allow to take his place would be him.”
Merlin’s father leaned over and whispered through his teeth, “He’s pointing at you.”
The room spun. Merlin gripped his father’s hand. The thick metal armband his father always wore reflected dizzily before Merlin’s eyes.
Walking forward, Tregeagle mocked, “Have mercy, Merlin. Have mercy on the thief!”
“Sir, I —”
“Yes, have mercy. You who dare hurt my son!” Tregeagle slipped his knife from its sheath and waved it in front of Merlin’s eyes. “Take his place so we can see mercy.”
Silence filled the room, except for the sound of Tregeagle’s clacking heels as he returned to the front.
“I … I accept,” Merlin said.
Garth caught his breath and stopped crying.
Tregeagle turned. “You what?”
“I accept!” Merlin’s voice echoed through the room.
Tregeagle rapped on his table. “So be it. You shall —”
A stifled sob went up from somewhere behind Merlin. A girl’s voice.
Tregeagle hesitated.
Merlin turned his head but could only guess who it was.
His father hissed in his ear, “You cannot. Are you a fool? Garth’s done nothing but make trouble for you.”
“I can’t let him be whipped.”
“Yes, you can. Wash your hands of this rascal!”
Merlin tightened his shoulders. “I’m responsible too, and I won’t abandon him.”
“You’ll be scarred for life. Everyone who sees your back will think you’re a criminal or a runaway slave. It will take weeks to heal.”
Turning to his father, Merlin tilted his head until the light from the open window fell upon his face. “I’m already scarred. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
His father moaned.
“Lictor Erbin, we have a change.” Tregeagle’s voice betrayed no emotion. “Merlin is to be flogged in the boy’s place. Guards, take Merlin outside to the post.”
CHAPTER 5
HUNTED
Merlin stood, handed his staff and dirk to his father, and stepped forward. The guards grabbed him by the arms and thrust him across the great hall toward the light of the open front door. As he was pushed outside, a few raindrops fell on his cheeks. Dark clouds had thickened over the moor, and a shadow soon covered the mountainside.
Behind him, Prontwon’s footsteps caught up to his father’s. “This is not necessary —”
Merlin’s father spat. “My son can make his own daft decisions.”
Years of working the bellows in the blacksmith shop had added strength to Merlin’s frame, and he could break free from the grip of the guards if he wanted to. He could tell Tregeagle he’d changed his mind. But he forced himself to remember Garth’s plight and his own stupidity, and so he submitted as they led him away from the house.
Garth hung on to Merlin until someone dragged him away. “You needn’t do it. Run!”
The guards roped Merlin’s hands to a six-foot post and tore off his tunic to expose his back. His muscles