Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [64]
“Don’t you give me an order.”
“It’s not an order but a warning. I’ve got guests—”
Before she could finish, he caught her by the shoulders and kissed her. She twisted out of his hands and slapped him across the face. At the blow all his careful pretense of courtesy shattered.
“Gwen, curse you! I’m sick of all this fencing.”
He moved so fast that she couldn’t dodge. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall. Although she struggled and kicked and punched, his weight was too much for her to shove away as he pressed against her by brute force. Swearing, he held on, his hands bruising her shoulders, then tried to kiss her again.
“Let me go! You bastard, let me go!”
He slammed her so hard against the wall that she could barely breathe. Suddenly she heard a scream, slicing through the chamber. Dannyn let her go and spun round just as Nevyn and Ysgerryn ran in. In the doorway Ocladda stood screaming, over and over again.
“Sacrilege!” Ysgerryn was whispering in horror. “Oh, dear Goddess, forgive us!”
“You fool, Danno!” Nevyn said. “You utter dolt.”
Out of breath, shaken, Gweniver felt her back and shoulders aching like fire, but the pain was nothing compared to the sick coldness in her stomach. She’d nearly been polluted by brute force. Ysgerryn turned to Ocladda.
“Stop that screaming, lass! Run, get a page. Send for the guards. Hurry!”
When, still sobbing, the lass ran, Dannyn spun toward the door. Nevyn calmly stepped in front of him.
“Are you going to cut down two old men to get out of this chamber?” he said quietly. “I think you have more honor than that.”
In silence Dannyn started shaking, trembling like a poplar in the wind. Gweniver wanted to scream. She clasped her hands over her mouth and watched him tremble. All her glory, her power on the battlefield and her pride in her sword, had been stripped away from her. Dannyn’s brute strength had turned her into an ordinary frightened woman, and for that she hated him most of all. Ysgerryn laid a paternal hand on her arm.
“My lady, how do you fare? Did he hurt you?”
“Not badly,” she choked out.
Out in the corridor men shouted. Four of the king’s guards burst into the chamber with drawn swords and stopped, staring at their leader as if they thought themselves in a nightmare. Dannyn tried to speak, then went on shaking. After an eternity of painful minutes, Glyn himself hurried in with Saddar trailing after. At the sight of his brother, Dannyn broke, falling to his knees and weeping like a child. Saddar drew back with a dramatic gasp.
“Sacrilege!” the councillor cried out. “And here I’ve been fearing it for ever so long. Lady Gweniver, oh, what an abominable thing!”
“Now, wait a moment,” Glyn said. “Danno, what is all this?”
His face running tears, Dannyn drew his sword and handed it to the king hilt first, yet still he could not speak.
“My liege, Nevyn and I saw it,” Ysgerryn said. “He was trying to force the lady.”
“Oh, ye gods,” Saddar said. “What terrible curse will the Goddess visit upon us now?”
With a violent shudder the guards drew back from the man who would have profaned a priestess.
“Danno,” the king said. “It can’t be true.”
“It is.” At last he forced out words. “Just kill me, will you?”
Dannyn tipped his head back to expose his throat. With an oath Glyn threw the sword across the chamber.
“I’ll judge this matter in the morning. Guards, take him to his chamber and keep him there. Take that dagger away from him, too.” He glanced at the white-faced witnesses. “I wish to consult with her holiness. Alone.”
While the guards were marching Dannyn away, Glyn stared fixedly at the wall. One at a time, the others hurried out, Saddar trailing at the last. The king slammed the door behind him, then flung himself into a chair and stared at the leaping fire in the hearth.
“In this, Your Holiness,” he said, “you’re the monarch and I the subject. I’ll submit Lord Dannyn to any punishment that the Goddess demands, but as a man, I’ll beg you for my brother’s life.” He paused, swallowing