Chapter Nineteen #2
Micheline continued to back away, pushing Valdine and Wanda along. “That’s madness, Johanne. Kirk can never love you. He loves Mara!”
The taut expression on Johanne’s face slackened, melted, drained away. She stared at Micheline, her frail chest heaving unsteadily. Slowly, with the flame of insanity in her eyes growing brighter by the moment, she turned to her brother.
“Is this true?”
“Johanne, I….”
“Is this true?”
Edmund’s attention was diverted from Micheline. “I sent her away, love. She’s no longer a threat to you or to Kirk.”
Johanne clutched the spit tightly, the flesh on her face tightening until she was hardly recognizable. As the three ladies continued to shrink from the volatile confrontation, Johanne took on the madness of the Devil himself.
“You bastard,” she hissed. “You have known all along. Why did not you tell me?”
Edmund struggled to maintain control. “Because it doesn’t matter. She is gone now and you do not have to worry over her.”
“But…!” Spittle dropped from Johanne’s lips. “Why did not you let me wish her away? I should have wished her away!”
“It doesn’t matter…”
“It matters!” Johanne shouted. Against the wall, the cook and Robert’s mother were weeping with fright, growing louder as their mad mistress bellowed. “Of all the women I have wished away, Mara matters most. If Kirk loves her, then she cannot live!”
Beads of sweat peppered Edmund’s brow. The woman he controlled so easily had turned the tables on him and he saw clearly that he was no longer in control.
Johanne was lord and master, dominating him, bending him to her will.
All of these years Edmund thought it was he who had reigned supreme over the realm of The Darkland, but he could see, simply, that Johanne was the ruler of their world.
And it was he who had always submitted to her every whim.
He realized that now. He did not know why he hadn’t seen it before. The more Johanne raged, the more frightened he became.
“She’s gone, Johanne,” he said quietly. “She’s le Vay’s wife now and you cannot harm her. Nothing can.”
Johanne continued to stare at him, her pale eyes twitching ominously. Suddenly, she lifted an eyebrow. “I see now, Edmund,” she murmured, a bitter smile coming to her lips. “Oh, yes. I see quite clearly now. You did not want to kill her. You love her, too!”
Edmund shook his head. “Nay, Johanne, I do not.”
Johanne nodded wildly, her lips hanging open and oh-so-sure of her demented conclusion. “You would not permit me to kill her because you loved her beauty and spirit. You sent her away so that I would not discover the truth!”
“Nay, Johanne!”
“She has taken both you and Kirk away from me!”
“Johanne, listen to yourself!” Edmund pleaded. “You’re mad, love, simply mad!”
Johanne growled deep in her throat, bringing the spit up and wielding it like a spear.
Edmund screamed but was unable to evade the weapon as she plunged it deep into his belly, twisting the rod brutally and loving every moment of his suffering.
Micheline, jolted with horror, shoved Valdine and Wanda toward the open kitchen door.
“Run!”
The women obeyed. Leaving the screaming and grunting behind them, they raced from the kitchen in the same direction Gilly had taken.
Emerging into the yard, they were immediately confronted by Sir Spencer.
Having been summoned by the terrified young girl, the man was fully prepared to do battle.
Micheline pushed the twins in his direction.
“My lord, save us!” she cried. “Johanne has gone mad!”
Spencer recognized the twins, assuming that the frantic woman behind them was none other than Lady Micheline. He charged forward, placing himself between the terrified ladies and the open kitchen door.
“Where is she?”
Micheline and the twins were huddled by the tunnel entrance, trembling with fright. Robert, Gilly and Fiona joined them, creating a fearful flock.
“Inside,” Micheline gasped. “She stabbed Edmund and I fear she comes for us!”
Sword raised defensively, Spencer turned to the darkened doorway. It was difficult to see anything but he could hear faint whimpers emitting from inside. Moving slightly to gain a better look, he kept his weapon leveled in front on him.
A long metal spit suddenly came hurling out of the darkness, striking Spencer’ sword.
He grunted with surprise as the weapon went flying, taking a step back as Johanne emerged from the kitchens.
She collected the spit from the ground before the knight could reach it and Spencer raised his armored forearm in time to fend off two heavy blows.
Taking another step back, he slipped on a pile of animal dung and nearly lost his balance.
Howling like a fiend, Johanne took the opportunity to thrust the spit at his groin and Spencer could no longer deny the fact that his life was in serious jeopardy.
The woman was determined to kill him and he was equally determined to defend himself. But he needed his weapon.
It was several feet away. Robert, seeing that Spencer was in trouble, broke from the frightened cluster of women and children, hurling himself toward the steel blade.
Losing his footing, he ended up on his buttocks, spinning wildly through the mud.
But the slick motion deposited him next to broadsword and he grabbed the thing, using all of his strength to toss it in Spencer’ direction.
“Sir Knight!” he shouted. “Your weapon!”
Spencer’ hand was up, catching the clumsy toss.
Instantly, he lifted his sword in the path of the screaming lady, knowing that very shortly it would be life or death for one of them.
Johanne jabbed the spear again, this time at his neck, and Spencer had no choice but to respond.
Without regrets, he deftly parried her thrust and drove his broadsword deep into her fragile chest. Gasping and twisting, Johanne fell to the ground in a dying heap of blood and foam.
Spencer stood over the woman as she cursed him soundly and breathed her last. Raising his visor with a shaking hand, he turned to the huddle of women and children behind him.
“God’s Blood,” he exhaled slowly. “What in the hell has happened here?”
Micheline stared at Johanne’s contorted form, her eyes wide with shock. After a moment, she released Valdine and made her way, however hesitantly, toward Sir Spencer.
“She… she went mad, my lord,” she breathed, still too fearful to draw any closer to Johanne’s corpse as if it would rise up and attack her. “She killed her brother in a rage when she learned that Kirk loved my sister.”
Spencer’ pale eyes stared at Micheline a moment before passing a long glance at the lady he had killed in self-defense. He simply shook his head.
“I did not want to kill her but she gave me no choice,” he said hoarsely. “I fear she would have killed us all.”
Micheline nodded firmly, pulling the scarf away from her head.
Soft brown hair tumbled down her back as she stared at the dead woman, hardly daring to believe that it was over.
The madness, the fear, the torture; with the swift stroke of a broadsword, the conclusion had not been pleasant, but it had been swift. And she wasn’t sorry in the least.
“I realize that,” she said quietly. “You were simply protecting us, Sir Spencer, and I am ever grateful.”
Spencer couldn’t decide if he was disturbed over what had happen more than he was satisfied. He had killed a woman, which went against everything he believed in. But given The Darkland’s reputation, he suspected he had done a great service to many. And paid vengeance for others.
He turned to Micheline, noticing in a softer, more average way that she resembled her sister. In fact, he thought her to be rather pretty.
“And you, my lady?” His baritone was soft. “Are you well?”
Micheline nodded. “Well enough. Better still now that Johanne and Edmund have been sent where they belong – to the bowels of hell to pay for their horrible sins.”
Spencer did not know what else to say. Around them, the occupants of the kitchen yard emerged from their hiding places, daring to come forward to see what had become of their mad mistress.
She was dead, as was her brother, disemboweled on the floor of the great kitchen.
Though it was wicked to think of celebrating such an event, Micheline realized she was considering that very thing.
Spencer thought he caught a glimpse of a very relieved smile.