“I do not understand, my lord.”
From the corner, silent John suddenly found his mouth. “I heard you say that you were to kill my brother when he wed the lady. I heard you say that you would give the order and the men from Whitewell would attack!”
Strode’s expression morphed queerly. He had been initially startled by the outburst, just as quickly put on guard by the contents.
“Who told you such thing?” he said. “I would not.…”
“Your accomplice, the maid, is in the vault and has admitted all,” Matthew told him. “We know what your orders are. She told us of your directive to kill me and to unleash your army withinmy ranks. My brother also heard you tell the maid of your plans. You may as well confess and I may be merciful.”
The veins on Strode’s temples bulged as he struggled for composure. “I do not know what that simple minded woman has told you, but I am not a traitor. I would never.…”
He never got the chance to finish. Matthew’s massive hand shot out, grabbing him around the throat. Strode struggled against him, but it was of no use. Matthew was twice his size, twice as strong, and many times more deadly.
Alixandrea could not bear to watch; she lowered her head, closing her eyes from the vision of Strode’s purple face.
“Lies will not be tolerated,” Matthew growled. “Confess the truth and we will show mercy. Continue along this path of fabrication and your death with be a slow and painful one.”
“I did not…!”
Matthew’s grip tightened. More struggling went on as Strode’s life began to slip away. His face went from purple to blue. He was coming to lose consciousness. Not one man in the room seemed uncomfortable, but Alixandrea was nearly sick. She could hear him gasping. As the sounds of strained breathing filled the room, Matthew suddenly let go of Strode long enough to clobber him on the side of the head with a massive fist. Strode staggered against the wall.
“You have been ordered to unleash a sleeper army within these walls,” Matthew rumbled. “Confess and I may show mercy.”
Strode put up his hands to fight back, but it was like watching a lamb against a lion. He had no chance at all. Matthew reached down, grabbed him by the shoulders, and literally tossed him to the middle of the floor. He bore down on Strode before the man could crawl away, grabbing him around an ankle and hurling him against a wall.
“Tell me what I wish to know and I will cease your agony,” he told him as he grabbed him by the arms. “What were your orders from Terrington?”
He paused long enough to give the man the chance to reply but when it was obvious that he refused to speak, Matthew threw him into a chair. The furniture collapsed under the force. Mark and Luke, who happened to be standing nearby, simply took a casual step away as if there was nothing to be concerned over. Matthew reached down, this time grabbing Strode by the hair. Pulling his bloodied head up, he looked him in the eye.
“Next time, I shall toss you through the window.”
There was no doubt that he meant what he said, and they were two stories up. Strode struggled weakly against Matthew as the man heaved him toward the long lancet window. When he realized he was about to end up twenty feet on the ground below, he let out a cry.
“As you… say!” he croaked.
Matthew immediately dropped his hand. Strode fell to the floor, a horrible rasping coming from his throat. He rubbed his neck, looking up at Matthew, at Alixandrea. Her eyes were still tightly closed, her face turned away. Instead of fear, his expression was full of surrender.
“It does not matter now if you know or not,” he said, his voice hoarse. “My life is at an end in any case.”
“Tell me of your orders.”
He took a couple of deep breaths before answering. “To… to kill you after you wed the lady. Then, as the church bells rang in celebration of the wedding, my men were to attack Wellesbourne from within in hopes of gaining control of the castle.”
“Is that all?”
“That is everything. I was to hold the castle until reinforcements arrived.”
“Who were the reinforcements?”
“That was not made clear to me, my lord. I was only told to hold the fortress.”
It was just as John had said, plain and without misunderstanding. Meanwhile, Alixandrea had opened her eyes when she realized that he was no longer being thrashed to death.
“Why have you done this?” she asked, almost painfully. “What have I done that you would try to harm me in such a way?”
He shook his head, hand still on his swollen neck. “This has nothing to do with you. Your uncle gave me orders. It is my duty to carry them out.”
“It is your duty to kill my husband?”
