Nelina entered into the makeshift storeroom where Claire was waiting for her. “Thank you for waiting for me, It’s good to see you again.”
Claire was quick on her feet. “As it is you,” she directed Nelina to the pitcher of water and a basin.
Nelina stripped off her gloves and washed her hands and face.
Claire handed her a drying towel. “I was able to get your clothing,”
Taking the cloth, she patted her hands and face dry. “I’m not disappointed to get out of this stiff armor and into a dress.”
Stepping closer, Claire undid the buckles and straps with a small giggle. “It will become better over time and use.”
“I hope you brought one of my comfortable dresses.” Nelina wiggled out of the last of her armor.
Claire picked up the dress enthusiastic. “I don’t know of its comfort, but the dress itself is divine, the dark blues, and touches of silver are exquisite.”
“Who gave you this particular dress?” Nelina recognized the Magus colors, which mirrored his robes with the intricate pattern and his sigil from Aghadine.
Claire noticed Nelina’s startled reaction to the dress. “A woman named Bridget, she said the Magus knew I was coming and she had it ready for me to give to you.”
“Oh,” her shoulders eased down. “Then I won’t waste any time in getting into it, other than fittings, this is my first time wearing it.”
“The embroidery is intricate,” holding the dress she waited as Nelina stepped into it.
“It’s the Magus’ sigil repeated in various places on the dress.” She stayed in place as Claire pulled the dress up and secured her in it.
“Well, it’s a perfect fit.” Claire motioned to the stool. “Sit and I’ll fix your hair.”
Sitting down on the stool, she was quiet trying to figure out why she was in this dress. She became aware of her own silence when she realized the jeweled comb placed in her hair was the finishing piece. “I don’t mean to be such poor company.”
“Don’t worry about it, I can see that you have things weighing on your mind,” Claire reached into a nearby velvet bag. “There is this too, it goes with it.” She pulled out a silver and blue stone necklace, which covered a good portion of Nelina’s neck with its snug design when she closed the clasp. “This necklace alone is worth a small fortune.”
Her fingertips went to her neck gliding over the stones “I am lucky to wear it,” standing up she did a quick turnaround. “Do I look good enough in it?”
“You rival Danthamore’s Queen herself, Claire meant it too, The Magus’s woman wore clothes and jewels befitting royalty. Walking up to Nelina, she hugged her. “I pray your evening goes well.” She let go with a smile. “I need to stay behind to pick up your armor and ready it for tomorrow, so we will see each other then.”
“Tomorrow it will be then, Good Eve.” After leaving the storeroom, she closed the door behind her walking past the remaining stalls in the stable. Upon reaching the yard the activity there had increased by the tenfold. Elian had not spoken of any gathering today. Approaching the crowd, she saw many faces she did not know nor had not seen around the Northern barracks until today. These other men must have come from the other two barracks in the city.
“He’s going to get the cat,” The burly, older man shrugged to the young guard next to him. “Glad it ain’t me.”
“What did he do?” The younger man had heard nothing since finishing his post a short while ago.
The old man pulled out his flask, swigging down a gulp of its contents. “Ya know the wench that the Magus trains? Me sergeant was sayin’ she was like a dog in heat on the city wall, when-” He caught Nelina out from the corner of his eye standing almost right behind him.
The other man shifted from one foot to the other signifying his edginess. Today, he witnessed Nelina in her armor and he had seen her plenty of times before in a man’s tunic and breeches, but the dress was something a Queen might wear. Everyone had heard the tale about the rich slaver who sold the woman to the Magus. This woman may be a good many things, but a slave was not it. No slave would be wearing the adornments of blue jewels held together by precious silver taking up half her neck, he found her intimidating. “I, he, we didn’t mean it.”
The overweight older man’s expression grew worrisome “Aye, that’s what-”
Poised, elegant, and graceful she held up her hand, which silenced the two. “Lucas attacked me. He attacked me because the Magus’s house slave Gwen, whom Lucas loves, has lost her place.” With no smile, she looked between the two, “Choose your side with care.”
Putting away his flask he nodded, “Captain Elian is a good commander if he’s punishing Lucas, then he’s earned it.”
The man next to him also gave a nod in fast agreement with his friend. “There is no finer Captain to serve under and besides Lucas has never been my friend anyway.”
“Then I’ll not keep you men any longer.” She stepped forward with the both of them stumbling to get out of her way. Those around to hear the exchange also moved to make way for her as she walked toward the raised platform and post she had seen before. She spotted Elian is standing next to Seymour, whom she had seen tend to the guards whenever they had a serious sickness or injury that needed more than the average ministrations of care or remedy of herbs.
Elian’s gaze cut over to Nelina, and he paused in his conversation with the healer to greet her. “The Magus’s Consort has arrived,” He bowed, offering her his hand.
She accepted Elian’s outstretched hand. “Captain,”
Elian escorted her onto the raised platform and the elaborate cushioned bench waiting for her. “Elian-” she saw two men holding Lucas, who was stripped down to the waist.
“Shh,” He could hear her hesitation when she had said his name. “You must sit and show as little emotion as possible no matter how brutal it gets, you represent the Magus.”
She gave his hand a light squeeze with a brief incline of her head. “I understand, I will.”
Seymour, who was older than her father would be if he had lived, bowed to her. “Madame Nelina.”
“Seymour,” with a brief nod to the healer, she seated herself on the bench. “Thank you Captain Elian.”
Elian let go of her hand with another slight bow before turning his attention to the task at hand waiting for him.
“She’s a whore!” Lucas with his swollen and bruised face glared in defiance at the two men holding him.
“And look where that got ya?” Laughed the man holding Lucas’ right arm.
Elian addressed the two men. “Tie his arms above his head to the post,”
The two men wasted no time in carrying out their order and making sure Lucas stood secured to the post.
Elian wearing attire similar to that of the noble class, with the whip under his arm addressed the crowd, which was larger than he expected it to be. “Silence all! Many of you know me, as I have served as your Captain for almost eight years in Danthamore, come this next harvest season.” The leather handle of the whip moved into his palm. “Danthamore’s law, as handed down by King Agnar is clear, that should any man desire the Queen or a mistress of the King their punishment is to be no less than a beheading.”
The crowd mumbled, looking at one another in confusion then returned the attention to Elian.
Extending the whip with a sweeping gesture in front of the crowd, he held them captivated. “Our Magus, your Magus, the Magus, will not tolerate the offense of any man coveting what belongs to him, and him alone.” His whip in a quick motion pointed in Nelina’s direction. “She belongs in both body and soul to the Magus himself.”
Nelina crunched her toes in her shoes so no one could see her discomfort. All eyes were on her, she stayed unmoving when Elian’s scourge turned to Lucas.
“This man tried to take what clearly does not belong to him and thus must be punished!” Again, the flogger tore through the air and pointed back at those gathered. “Our Magus is generous and merciful in sparing this man’s life, but I would not tempt his generosity, for he can quickly be your gateway to the God of All. I take no pleasure in this task, yet, it is a necessary one. ” Lowering his arm and stepping over to Lucas, he addressed Seymour. “Is he fit to take his lashing?"
“He should be able to take the full forty.” Seymour was confident in his assessment of the young man’s health.
Elian clasping the whip raised it high, only to bring down the corded leather strips with small knots across Lucas’ exposed back.
Nelina wanted to look away, his back was streaked with blood, which was the first taste of the lash.
Lucas strained against his bonds in pain, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the object of his bitter hatred. ‘Nelina’ he said her name in his mind.
With a steady hand, at a different angle the scourge ripped across the man’s back again. Wasting no time, Elian brought down the next strike.
By the third blow, he winced and cried out in pain, unable to bear it, with his mind holding a single thought, ‘The Magus’s whore does this, to me.’ He recalled her face to his mind with each new incoming kiss of the lash and associated it to her. ‘Fifteen,’ he had counted up to fifteen strikes give or take a few until he noticed it stopped.
Before he struck Lucas for the twentieth time, Elian paused walking over to Seymour. “It’s time to check him,” Elian once next to Nelina lowered his voice. “It’s half way done,” He removed his white tunic and was about to se it down set it down.
“Here, I’ll keep it for you,” she wished he did not have to continue on her behalf. “Laying it down there will get it dirty.”
“My thanks, Madame,” in handing it to her he saw her hands had a slight shake to them, and he wondered how she would view him after today and what brutality he was capable of inflicting. Grabbing his wineskin he took a long drink, whipping a man required a great deal of arm strength and stamina from the wielder.
“He is able to continue,” Seymour stepped away from Lucas and resumed standing next to Nelina.
Others, who were not guards filled into the crowd of those already gathered. Servants, palace guards, family members of the city watch, many came to bear witness to Lucas’ flogging for offenses against the Magus. It was unheard of for a citizen whipping unless the wrongdoing was against the King or Queen of Danthamore. Everyone watching understood that this display was a message from the Magus of Danthamore that his word was the law and equal or above that of King Agnar and Queen Celeste.
Vera, having come from the Eastern wing of the palace clutched the full coin purse from the Magus she had received a little while ago. She was the Queen’s personal seamstress and besides Celeste, and the Countess Lilly, few could afford her dressmaking services. Studying Nelina, she recognized the dress as one she had prayed not to see her wearing. Previous gowns she had made for Celeste of this kind were to signify her position as Queen Regnant when she attended to matters on behalf of King Agnar. Nelina’s dress displayed her in the clearest manner possible as the ‘Consort of the Magus’ she was fearful of it inciting the Queen’s wrath for making it in the first place.
Elian with his scourge evoked a pain filled scream from Lucas when he resumed the lashing. He was able to get a good several more lashes in before Lucas’s feet gave way and his body went unconscious. Wiping the sweat from his brow, his bare chest bore numerous specks of Lucas’s blood. He motioned for Seymour, to approach.
Seymour opening the small bag hanging off his shoulder slipped out a tied pouch of herbs and held it under Lucas’s nose.
His body jerked awake and after a moment found his voice, which was little more than a croak beneath his sobs. “I beg mercy! I can endure no more!” Anguished tears rolled down his bruised face.
Elian brought down the stinging leather cords repeating one strike after another while Lucas’ howls reached new heights as he begged for its end. When Elian finally reached the thirty-ninth lash, he was glad to be done with the matter. The custom of thirty-nine and not forty was to adjust for a person losing count by mistake. The whip was soaked in blood with bits of flesh clinging to its knots. Again, he cast his gaze outward to the crowd. “This did not have to be, Lucas chose his own fate, and paid for his offenses against the Magus with his own blood.” He signaled Seymour and two other men to tend to Lucas, whose back appeared similar to a raw side of meat from a local butcher.
The two guards and the healer started to remove Lucas’s body from the wooden post.
Elian spoke to the crowd one last final time. "Before you leave me on this day, remember the Magus rewards those loyal to him. You men who are not from the Northern barracks will learn this as well, until the sun starts to break the sky, no tavern will bar your entrance, and you may drink your fill. To the rest of you who have gathered, I bid you all a good day." Off to the side was a guard holding a large bowl of water and towel waiting for him. Elian was quick in cleaning off the blood from his skin, and the water when he was done, was stained bright red.
Nelina relaxed her tightened grip on Elian’s shirt as she handed it back to him.
“My Thanks,” with a warm smile he put back on his tunic. “I believe that we still have a dinner with the Magus to get you to."
“Yes, of course.” Her apprehension came rushing back to the unavoidable conversation fast approaching with Ru’ark.
Elian offered her his hand. "The late afternoon breeze along the wall should be cooling as I escort you to the Magus."