She was so glad. At least he would never have Kit.
“You are not sorry for your sins.” There was a tight anger in the bishop’s voice.
Mercy was not listening to him. She was listening to the shouts from the forest.
“This way!”
“Over here!”
Then, Kit’s cry. “Let go!”
“Aw! Ya little brat!”
“Run,” she whispered again.
“I know where he was going,” the bishop stated.
Anguished terror snaked through her. She swiveled her head to look at the bishop. He stood in the rising sun cast in a red glow, shadows playing over his face. He looked inhuman. The bishop turned his head toward the group of villagers.
“As I said,” he continued, “he told me everything.”
Mercy’s gaze settled on Walter. Agony sliced through her like a blade. Walter knew everything. She had trusted him completely, confided in him. She tried to rise, but the bishop put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her back to the ground with surprising strength.
“Stop it!”
At Kit’s cry, Mercy’s hands curled in the dirt in desperation.
They emerged from the forest. One soldier held Kit’s arm tightly. The other two soldiers walked behind them, crashing through the brush.
Mercy began to shake. The forest blurred against the onslaught of tears rushing through her eyes. She wouldn’t give up. She whirled on the bishop. “What do you want him for? He doesn’t want to go!”
“We don’t always get what we want or what is good for us.”
“Take me instead! He’s just a boy!”
“You?” His gaze moved over her in repulsion. “You are flawed. You are a sinner. The boy is innocent yet. I can mold him into a man worthy to work for God.”
Kit pulled against the soldier’s hold. “Mom!”
“Keep fighting, Kit. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“Can’t you see that I am doing what is best for the boy?” the bishop asked.
“You don’t know him! You don’t know what is best for him. Let him go!” With an angry growl, Mercy pulled the dagger from her belt and lunged at the soldiers like a cat. The first soldier, the one holding Kit, sidestepped her attack. As she turned with the dagger raised, the second soldier caught her arm and twisted it savagely until pain wrenched her elbow. She dropped the dagger.
“You were going to run away with him and put the rest of the village in danger. Who were you thinking of? Yourself.” The bishop turned and walked toward his horse.
“Mom!” Kit cried as he was dragged toward the horses.
Mercy rushed to follow, but the second soldier grabbed her around the waist, restraining her. She twisted and turned to break free, but the soldier’s hold was not gentle nor was it weak. He held her firmly.
The bishop turned as Kit neared. “You shall be my greatest accomplishment,” he whispered.
Kit kicked the bishop in the shin.
The bishop’s pale face turned red, but he did not double over. “Bind him,” he said through clenched teeth.
“No!” Mercy struggled. She whirled, clenching her fist, and hit the soldier holding her in the nose. Startled, hurt, he released her, and she dashed forward across the clearing toward her son.
