Chapter Sixteen
Mercy stood in a small roomwith a golden table situated on a raised dais. A thick wooden cross was positioned at the front of the altar. Before it, Bishop Devdan knelt, his head bowed in prayer.
A guard stood on either side of her. She looked around, but the room was barren except for the two steps before the wooden cross. She had been waiting for the bishop for what seemed like hours now. But he didn’t move, he simply knelt there. The one saving grace for Mercy was that the boys had escaped. They were gone and the bishop couldn’t hurt them any longer. She found satisfaction in that.
Finally, he moved. With a sigh, he clutched his golden staff and used it to rise. He looked old. Frail. He turned to her and regarded her with cold eyes. Shrewd eyes. Angry eyes. “You must be proud of yourself.”
Mercy lifted her chin.
“You think yourself clever.”
“Relieved, now that the children are safe.”
“Safe? They were safe here. They were sheltered. Well fed. Taken care of. I took care of them. I loved them.”
“Ilove Kit! He ismyboy. You have no right to take him from me.”
The bishop hobbled down the stairs, moving toward her. His fingers clutched the golden staff. “Yes. You were the most vocal about the children.”
“People died because of what you did!”
“The children do God’s work.”
“What work did they do?” Mercy demanded. “What work did a child do that a grown man could not?”
He shook with rage for a moment, his eyes widened in outrage. Then, he took a deep breath, glancing at each of the guards. “It is not for you to say.”
“Itisfor me to say! Kit is my son! I am his mother. There is no better place for him to be than at my side!”
“Ahh. Kit. He is a special boy.”
Tremors moved across Mercy’s shoulders at the inappropriate way he said Kit’s name.
“I am delighted I found him. So…innocent. So…” He looked at her. “I can’t get enough of his blonde hair. So fair and…lovely.”
Disgust filled her and she yanked away from the guard’s hold. “He’s gone! You’ll never get your hands on him now!”
The bishop nodded. “It is a shame that I lost him. But there are so many other boys.” The bishop puffed out his lower lip and his eyes glinted. “I will have to be satisfied that you will never see him again.”
Realization silenced her. He was right. Kit had escaped. But she had not. Despair filled her. They were still separated. She would never show the bishop that he was victorious or that he had hurt her. She lifted her chin. “But neither will you. I saved him.”
Suddenly, a door opened behind them. Mercy turned.
Richard charged in, sword raised before him. He dispatched one guard before he could draw his sword, and whirled on the other.
Richard had come! Joy exploded through her.
Suddenly, the bishop lunged forward, moving with astonishing speed. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back against his chest, placing the golden staff across her throat. He tugged the rod against her throat.
Mercy pushed against the staff so she could breathe as she watched Richard battle the guard.
Swords clanged through the room as metal met metal again and again. Both of Richard’s hands held the hilt of the sword because they were still manacled together.
Mercy’s hands hooked over the staff, trying to pull it from her throat.
Richard knocked the sword aside and lunged, impaling the guard. He pulled his sword clear and whirled. He froze. He locked eyes with her. “Let her go and we will go,” Richard told the bishop.
The bishop growled, holding Mercy tightly. “Put your sword down.”
