The Pearl (The Godwicks #3) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,53

skirt and said, “I have the blade.”

Regan could only nod as the old woman ran a wooden comb through her long dark hair, parted it in the center and let it fall in waves down her back. This wasn’t her hair anymore; this wasn’t her body.

Regan wasn’t her name.

Her name was Judith.

The old woman helped her into a loose silk gown of red, a harlot’s color. This was a harlot’s task, but General Holofernes had taken no interest in the harlots of the city. Only she, Judith, had caught his eye. For days, she’d put him off, playing the grieving widow and so far it had worked. But now she had to go to him. The word had come that day that the general’s army had their orders to sack her city tomorrow. If she wanted to save herself and her people, she must go to him.

“There, that’s done,” the old woman said. “No man would turn you away from his tent.”

Regan hoped it was true. Regan? No. These were Judith’s thoughts. The how and the why could wait, because it was time for her to see the general.

They walked along the city streets under the light of a full white moon. At the gates, the keeper took one look at her and spat at her feet, thinking she’d gone to sell herself to the enemy.

“We have to take care of ourselves,” she said, playing her role in case any of the enemy Assyrian soldiers were watching the gates.

Once out of the city, she and the old woman headed deep into the center of the army camp, past a hundred tents filled with soldiers. She felt as if she were walking through a den of sleeping vipers and with one wrong step, one sound, she would wake them all and they would swarm…

And there ahead was the tent of the king of those vipers.

Holofernes.

The man she’d come to kill.

A young soldier stood watch outside his general’s tent. He held up his hand to stop her.

“Don’t bother,” the soldier said. “There’s no mercy to be had.”

“Tell him Judith is here,” Regan said. “And tell him I’m not here for mercy.”

The soldier seemingly knew her name, because recognition flashed in his eyes. The general must have mentioned her. He slipped into the tent. Muffled male voices spoke. The soldier reemerged, coming through the flap like a baby being born, headfirst.

“Wait here,” he said.

They waited. There came the sound of male laughter, deep and cruel from inside the tent. Another soldier, older, grey-haired, emerged from the tent and gave Judith a look. He liked what he saw, but it was not for him. He walked off.

The young soldier nodded. “You may go in now,” he said. “Only you.”

The old woman did not complain. She dropped down at the side of the tent, at the very edge of it, making exaggerated sounds of pain as she planted herself on the hard ground.

Judith gave the old woman one last look. The old woman nodded, and then Judith went inside.

General Holofernes lay draped over a thick pile of silk cushions, a cup of red wine in his hand. His eyes gleamed and his cheeks were flushed. He’d been drinking deep. Good.

He lifted his cup to her. “Judith. Finally. You came to your senses.”

“I’ve come to claim your protection, if you will have me.”

He stared at her and she dropped her eyes demurely. It was said, far and wide, that General Holofernes prized nothing so much as meekness and submission. And if a woman or a city were not meek and submissive when he came to them, they would be ever after.

The general was an enormous man—tall, broad-chested, arms and legs thick and corded with muscle. He wore a beard and his brown hair was short. If he hadn’t been her enemy, the man who would burn her city down in the morning, she might have found him handsome.

He gave her a leering smile. “I will have you.”

The tent was large and lit by three oil lamps hanging from the beams. A large tent, almost grand with comforts. Fine wool blankets, thick cushions for sleeping and more. A table laden with bread and oil and wine. He hefted the wine skin and filled a wooden cup for her. She cradled the large wine cup in her two hands, lifted it to her lips, and feigned drinking from it. Even though the table sat between them, she could smell his body–the sweat and heat and musky maleness of