Several pairs of eyes were upon them and Emma held her gaze downcast self-consciously. She was still unused to common people staring at her so boldly. It was not that she disparaged commoners in any way. It was only that she was unaccustomed to them being bold to her. Again, she suppressed a deep sigh, understanding that in this different life she’d chosen for herself she would sorely need to get used to this new state of things. She was no longer Lady Belfort. She was Rowena now.
The stranger briskly beckoned to one of the wooden benches which sat empty, and Emma gratefully obeyed his command. She was indeed weary, yet she did not have time to catch her breath and gather her thoughts as she had wished. The sound of shrill voices all around her made her raise her eyes in alarm.
“And here she is! The thief! I told you she was walking in the square, proud as you please,” a high voice clamoured, along with other voices which were muttering their assent.
Turning, Emma perceived the man she’d seen following her several days ago. His face was disdainful and triumphant at the same time. Emma looked around her as her heart started to thump in sheer, maddening fear because the faces of all those who’d gathered at the inn bespoke anger and disdain. Thief? The angry faces of the people around her were frightening indeed and Emma bit her lip, coming to understand that Rowena hadnot been entirely truthful to her. Thief? Could Rowena have done something so dishonest? By the furious way in which the people at the inn were now glancing at her, Emma realized that Rowena might indeed be guilty of deceit and of even worse than that.
“She is with me. As you can see, you needn’t seek her any longer or try to wreak your vengeance upon her. All is settled now,” the stranger who’d brought her here said in a level voice.
“Settled?” the man who’d spoken earlier spat. “She’s still a thief. Nothing is settled!”
“It’s only right we fetch the guards!” a tall, hefty woman who seemed to be the innkeeper said in a darkly triumphant voice.
Emma’s heart stopped in her chest.No. Not the guards.
“You have been already paid the full amount of what she stole, haven’t you, mistress?” the stranger who’d brought her with him countered in a weary voice.
“Aye, Master Archer. But…”
Emma realized she should have been able to tell by the man’s brown-green garb and bracers, as well as by the long leather pouch fastened across his shoulder that he was an archer. Yet the turmoil of events had made her unable to dwell upon such things. Now she willed herself to focus on what was going on. Because she understood only too well that her very life might depend upon this.
“I can pay whatever is owed. I have coin!” she uttered hastily, desperate to keep the guards from coming to discover her deceit.
The harsh laughter around her suddenly made her understand it had been the wrong thing to say.
“Oh, and how did you earn that, Mistress? By renewed thievery or maybe on your back?” another mocking voice from behind her called raucously.
Emma blushed crimson. Although she was not guilty of anything, it stung to be addressed in such a disparaging manner,and she was unused to this rough kind of talk. Her eyes unwittingly fell upon the master archer’s face. His mouth was drawn into a bitter line and his brown eyes were glowing dark with anger. He looked even more humiliated than she was.
“Desist,” he spoke wearily. “She is my wife and as her husband I am also responsible for her deeds.”
Emma’s heart thumped fiercely in her chest and she gulped hard. Rowena was married? To this man? But then…
“Fine, Master Archer. You dealt with us fairly and your woman is your cross to bear, after all. But you need to see she is chastised for what she did. Here and now. You’ve paid the coin to settle this. Yet you know only too wellsheis still bound to pay for what she did!” the woman who’d spoken earlier said pointedly.
What had Rowena done? Thievery indeed? Emma’s question was soon answered when the woman who tended to the inn cast her a contemptuous stare.
“I thought you a good woman. Yet you lay with my husband like the harlot you are and then robbed him of his coin. And for this you need to pay!”
“Aye, chastisement!” the others nodded with faces filled with dark glee.
Chastisement? Emma shuddered at the very word recalling the rough slaps and punches her former husband had thought entitled to bestow upon her whenever she had incurred his displeasure. Yet she did not have time to think upon this. The voices around her had started to call gleefully for a just punishment for what they’d thought she’d done. If Master Archer did not wish for the guards to come, he would now have to deliver the due punishment himself, they clamoured. Emma tried to still her breathing, understanding it would be to no avail to shout her innocence and make the crowd see she was not whothey thought she was. She was Rowena’s mirror image. And they would only call the guards upon her if she protested.
“Then she will pay, just as you wish. Right here and right now. And then we will be done and over with this,” Master Archer said at last, loud and clear, in the same weary voice as before.
Emma simply shuddered. She steeled her ears against the further talk which started clamouring around her regarding the manner of her punishment. Most of those gathered around were calling for a birch to be brought at once. She supposed she should be thankful there were only few voices clamouring for the whip. She stared at her hands, willing herself to be calm and think of a faraway place, just as she did whenever her mother or her husband were cruel to her. It was no use protesting now. She would only make things worse, and she had only herself to blame for falling for Rowena’s ploy.
She did not know how much time passed, and she raised eyes she’d kept downcast only when she heard Master Archer’s weary voice call upon her.
“Come. Let’s get this done,” he said, staring away as if he could not bear to look upon her right now.
With widened eyes, Rowena saw he was holding in his hand an implement someone in the crowd must have fetched for him while she’d strived to forget what was going on around her. Her eyes widened further upon what she supposed was the implement of her impending punishment. It was not a birch switch. It was a green leaved bunch, and she stared at it in confusion.
“A nettle switch,” a voice behind her called in derision. “Mild punishment, Master Archer. Too mild!”
A nettle switch? Emma had never been punished thus and she frowned upon the implement. It seemed far milder than the birch switch indeed.
“Fair punishment, just as you seek,” Master Archer countered. “The sting of it is fiercer than the birch.”