Gaspar smirked. “No, Jappot. You’ve come to help the patriarch save his pride. He was wrong about her, and he cannot admit it. He is only a man in the end.”
The guards shifted uncomfortably, but none eased his stance.
A flash of gold. The old man finally appeared around the side of the tower and came forward with a sneer. “I suspected as much,” he said as he neared, stumbling over sand and patches of grass. “It was a bit too convenient for a Scottish warrior to be lurking so close to your slave’s quarters. And an experienced executioner at that.” He pulled the cell key from his pocket. The string bounced in the breeze a few times before he threw it at Gaspar’s feet with disgust. “The little Greek will die for his lies.”
The patriarch turned and looked back as yet another soldier brought Icarus forward. The man had been ill-used. Black blood adhered to his face. His hands were tied behind him. The guard forced him to his knees ten feet from the beach on which the rest of them stood. Not close enough to be protected.
Gaspar shrugged. “Your soldiers know the truth, Your Beatitude. They know you have come only to save your pride.”
The patriarch’s jaw jumped, but he did not look at his men. Perhaps he did not care to know what he might see.
His sneer dropped away abruptly and his brow bunched with concern. “I have come to rescue you, Gaspar. You are like a son to me. How can I leave you in the clutches of a woman God has clearly marked as a witch? I will not leave you to her. Not you. My son.” He placed his hands together in prayer, and shook them forward and back, as if pleading to God. “I would see her cleansed from your blood.”
Isobelle screamed. The Scot moved to shield Gaspar so he could look behind them to the dock. A guard, dripping with water, stood at Isobelle’s back with a blade across her throat. Her death was but a nod away.
Gaspar stepped around the Scot and faced his former confessor. “Release her.”
The patriarch raised his brows in all innocence. “One day soon, you will forget her and return to my service. But only if the witch is burned from this world. Then, her curse must be purgedfrom you, my son. By fire as well, if we cannot think of another way.”
Gaspar shook his head furiously. “You promised she would not burn. You, who would eschew bearing false witness.” He turned to face the line of men to his left. “You see? He is only a man, a man who is jealous of a beautiful woman.”
The old man snarled. “You see how she has infected his blood? How else shall I cleanse you, Gaspar, if not with fire?” He looked to the dock. “Bring her!”
“No!” Gaspar had no leverage. He had nothing the old man wanted. He could threaten nothing the old man held dear. And if they fought, Isobelle would be harmed first. “Wait! You want to cleanse me? You want me to one day return to your service?”
The old man raised his chin, but said nothing.
“Then I will surrender myself to you. I will go willingly, if you allow the Scot to take the woman and go.”
The gold-gowned devil narrowed his eyes and considered. No one moved. Gaspar couldn’t understand how he’d held the patriarch in such high regard all those years. Had he truly considered himself unworthy to wash the other man’s feet? Impossible!
“Come, now.” Gaspar spoke loud enough for all to hear. “If what you said is true, if you have notlied, then I am the one you have come to save. So cleanse me. With fire if you must. If you believe you can save me as surely as I believed I could save her, then do so. But first, you will let the woman go back where she belongs. Far from here. Far from you. Far…from me.”
His voice broke at the last. He should have known the dream he’d been spinning in his mind for more than a day was too wonderful to be truly realized. Isobelle had forgiven him too quickly. Now God was demanding a true accounting. But at least, if there was one good deed he could do in this life, he would see the woman go free. And Icarus too!
“You will come quietly.” The old man smiled. “And you will not speak to my soldiers, is that understood? I will not have that witch’s poison spewed into their ears. And I will be surprised if that scar on your face is the worst you will end with,my son.”
Gaspar’s heart jumped with joy. He’d agreed! But he’d agreed too quickly.
“One moment.” Gaspar still held his blade as if he might attack. “You will send Icarus with them.”
The old man grunted. “I have already pronounced sentence on the slave.”
“You will send Icarus with them.” He pointed his sword directly at his former employer and turned the blade meaningfully.
The patriarch shook his head, his face twisted with malice. “No. You must choose. The woman or the slave. You may not save them both.”
James grunted and stormed forward. None attempted to stop him as he pushed Icarus’s guard out of the way, then grabbed up the little man like a wayward child and stormed back toward the shore with Icarus tucked under his arm. None dared attack him from behind, and not only because Gaspar stood ready to defend him.
The big man did not stop until he’d marched onto the dock and deposited Icarus on the dark boat. He then turned and plucked the blade from the man threatening Isobelle and kicked him off the dock and into the water.
James barked at the woman to get aboard. To Gaspar’s surprise, she ignored him and fled to Gaspar’s side.
“I will not leave without ye.” Tears streamed down her angry face. She turned to the patriarch. “Ye’re a right bastard. Ye wear the devil’s gaudy robes and quickly condemn the rest of us.” She spat at the old man’s hem.
“Isobelle,” Gaspar growled. “Did I teach you nothing?”
“Oh, aye. Ye’re teachin’ me how to be a martyr. And a fine teacher ye are.”
