Hastings sped to Calais thoroughly enjoying the wind through his hair, the sun on his face and the landscape which swept by him. It was almost like flying and Hastings laughed merrily the whole way. The sooner he got to Calais, the sooner he could keep his promise, the sooner the beautiful shop girl�s heart could be relieved of the worry it strained under and perhaps she would take great joy in hearing that her friend was soon to marry. And much more importantly, the sooner he fulfilled his promise, the sooner he could go to see the lovely Emilie and keep his promise to her of speaking to Percy, which was something that Hastings was anxious to do regardless of oaths. Percy did seem to have a rather melancholy air about him, hopefully he wasn�t terribly hurt by Hastings�s proposal. Perhaps many matters could be settled today.
Hastings reminded himself that he should stop by and visit the Ffoulkeses, Andrew no doubt was lamenting his inadequacies in protecting his sister, and poor Michelle was in a frightful state last he saw her. He would have to pick up some flowers for her in Calais. The thing that disturbed him was this mystery assailant lurking around the area. There had been three girls assaulted and no sign of the beast, one girl his friend, another his future wife� but the third, he knew nothing of� perhaps while he was in Calais he would speak to an officer about the case.
Within a half hour, Hastings arrived in Calais and proceeded to M. Planchette�s Shoppe only to find it surprisingly closed with no sign of life within, this puzzled him, by then he noticed that the air seemed to be buzzing with excite, perhaps they when to investigate. People seemed to be rushing to the center of town and Hastings wasn�t sure what seemed to be causing the excitement. Perhaps it had something to do with a party or festival that was supposed to be taking place in a few days, he�d heard that a circus had been hired to perform and if such a circus had arrived then surely that would gather so much attention. He stop a young man who passed and asked, good-naturedly, �Hey, my friend, what excitement is it that sweeps this town?�
�The accomplices of a brutal assassinate have been caught and are being punished before the whole town,� the young man blurted out, then ran off. Hastings followed, perhaps it was something to do with Emilie�s attacker.
Hastings found the event and made his way as close as possible, only to fall pale and ill at the sight that awaited him. There was the tailor Planchette being prepared for a flogging, his assistant being held nearby. Even more horrifying was the scream that came from the pillory, as the girl locked into the device was branded, terror dawned on him as he realize that the girl was the sweet young woman who had commission him to aid the lovely Emilie Spencer. Why were they being so horribly mistreated. Then his eyes fell on the grim face of Lord Blakeney who sat at a vantage point directing the procedure, Emilie at his side. In a moment there were more cries as one of the guards began to cruelly whip the poor tailor. Hastings went quickly to the officer that appeared to be in charge. "What is the meaning of this?"
Plourde's hands were shaking as he did all these deeds. He turned to find a young man standing there, he was well dressed and obviously a noble. He turned to him and said "They were found with stolen items belonging to Lady Emilie Spencer and Lady Michelle Ffoulkes" he said and gestured to Lord Blakeney. "Inquire as to him, not me" he said and winced when he realized Lady Emilie had passed out.
Emilie had thought Plopped was a dolt but at that moment, she could have kissed him. She didn't want to have to see all this and she was overjoyed that she could stay here. Lord Blakeney merely looked haughtily at the young captain. "I wish to assure Lady Emilie that those who have wronged her will be brought to justice and that they will never be able to harm her again, I want her to know that she will be safe and that those who would harm her who do so at great expense! I want her to see justice, Plourde. Now get on with it!" he ordered as he took Emilie's arm and gently brought her to her feet from the chair. Emilie's hopes fell, she was trapped. "Come along, my dear" he said and led her off by the arm. Plourde had the prisoners were taken behind them outside to the town square. Emilie was trembling; she couldn't even move and leaned on her guardian the entire way. The two were shown to seats that offered a view of the whole debacle. Milord sat her down and sat down next to her, gripping her arm protectively. The two men were dragged forward to a tall stake and the tailor's hands were shoved into the leather holds on the post. Crowds were starting to gather, multiplying the pain. Emilie choked as Laurel was taken up to the pillory and forced to kneel. She gasped as her pretty hair was cut away, leaving her almost bald. Emilie tried to resist the happy feeling that her rival had lost her beauty. She heard the cheering in the background and found herself wondering if this was how Pontius Pilate felt like. She did pity the girl a lot but there was a small side of her that blamed her and felt she was getting her just reward. The tailor's shirt was ripped off and Emilie looked away to find Laurel being untied and placed into the pillory. The girl was shoved in and Emilie was torn between triumph and misery. Blakeney sitting beside her suddenly spoke up. "Plourde, the brand! Administer it now!" he commanded. Antoine winced thinking of Nicole and someone hurting her like that but he did as he was ordered, branding the girl's shoulder. Emilie heard Laurel scream and she felt her head spin and slumped over, unconscious, falling off the chair.
Blakeney saw a blur of movement near the periphery of his vision, followed by a soft thud. He turned to see that Emilie had collapsed from her chair. It was most likely that she fainted from all the excitement, after all she had been through quite a great deal over the last several days and she had yet to fully recover. He leapt from his chair and collected the little girl in his arms, shouting for a doctor to be summoned. He looked upon Emilie's cold pale face and called to her, "Emilie! Emilie, wake up! Emilie!"
He wouldn't be satisfied until all those responsible had paid for their crimes against her.
Hastings pushed past Plourdes and made his way to where Blakeney and Emilie had taken up watch. "What is the meaning of this, Blakeney?" Hastings called as he pushed his way through spectators. "Why on Earth are you torturing these people?" To his horror as his path cleared, he found Emilie unconscious in Blakeney's arms. "Emilie!" he cried as he raced to her side. "Why is she here? What is going on?"
Antoine watched the debacle all around. He could tell by the way the Lady had looked that she wouldn't have the stomach for it and that she would faint. Poor thing had fallen off her chair and he had to stop himself from running over and picking her up. His Lordship did the deed for him though, cradling Lady Emilie who looked like a doll in his arms, so tiny and fragile when compared to the broad shouldered Lord. Delicate angels like her had to be protected from sights which made even men uncomfortable. Poor Claudette was being jeered at and pelted with mud, rotten fruit and vegetables by the crowd, he was powerless to stop that. Her face and head were coated with refuse, and the crowd just seemed to warming up. That tailor was barely conscious, so heavily had the whip been laid on. He had definitely had more then thirty lashes, most likely much more, Antoine hadn't been paying attention. Any more and he'd be killed. "Switch them, tie the other one to the pillory" he directed.
The other one was just a boy, who was almost in tears at what was happening to Planchette was about his age, he was pale and slender, it didn't look like he'd survive a flogging. Planchette was unstrapped from the post and tied next to the poor seamstress who was covered in garbage and being jeered at. Henri was shoved forward, his hands which had been tied behind his back were untied and pulled high above his head and tied with the leather straps that were soaked with his master's blood. Antoine watched as the soldier ripped his shirt off, revealing a thin pale back which had clearly defined bones. This would be bloody. The soldier readied the heavy whip again and brought it down across Henri's back with a loud crack. Henri cried out in pain as a red welt appeared. Another swish and the prisoner trembled from the pain. The soldier kept going, striking the prisoner harder and the prisoner writhing and crying in pain. Maybe twenty, most likely more, Antoine lost track of the blows, but they were many and being laid on hard. Henri was only supported by his tied hands, his knees had almost given out. The cracks were enough to make Antoine sick but it was even worse. The crowd was riled up and tossing things at the poor prisoners by the pillory. Antoine gave the signal to keep going and hoped when he was promoted, his medals were not coated with blood.
Blakeney glared at Hastings, how dare the boy question him! "I am bringing justice down on those who aided the creature that attacked Lady Emilie and she is here to see that justice is served on her behalf! Those people collaborated with the brute that attacked Emilie, and that girl most likely helped him to do it!" A guard came and brought Blakeney some water for Emilie which he carefully tried to pour down her lips. "As her suitor, you above all people should want her honor upheld!"
Emilie began to choke as the water filled her throat. Where was she? She opened her eyes slowly and saw Hastings and Milord looking down worriedly at her. Her face was pale and sweaty, and her temples hurt. She was being held by Milord, she was outside since she could feel the hot sun above but what had happened and who was screaming? She heard someone yelling in pain, people cheering and an awful swishing sound that scared her. "Sir?" she whispered. "What's happening? I'm scared, sir. Tim, what is going on?"
Hastings looked lovingly down at Emilie, "You fainted, dear Lady. And with good reason." He cast a quick, dark look at Blakeney. "As for what's going on, I'd like to know that myself. I arrive to find a travesty of justice."
With each blow she heard, Laurel wept more and more bitterly. Poor dear kind Planchette was being so horribly wronged! A moment later something struck her head hard, followed by other objects, some of which splattered and oozed down to cover her face. She only truly realized what was going on when the debris fell to the ground below her. Garbage was being thrown at her! Soon she had to close her eyes to keep the muck from running into them, all the while her spirits sank lower and lower. Her heard heavy staggered footsteps approach, what was going to happen now? They stopped beside her and someone bumped into her head. A few minutes later they left and Laurel could hear heavy strained breathing. Then the rubbish flew with more force.
Planchette looked up at the poor helpless girl, if only he could help her. "I'm so sorry, my dear little Laurel. You shouldn't have to suffer this! But it will end!" It has to, he thought.
Laurel couldn't see him, but could recognize the voice of Planchette nearby. "I beg your forgiveness, my dearest Planchette! I've brought this horror down on us all! But if it takes me the rest of my life, I will set it right!"
Blakeney helped Emilie to her feet. "These people harbored that scoundrel Andre, who attacked Emilie and Michelle! They deserve to be hung!" Blakeney growled. "They are lucky to be getting off so easily! Lady Emilie deserves justice and if punishing those fiends will grant that, then I'm only sorry I couldn't do the deed myself! You of all people should want this!"
Emilie just stared up blankly at her suitor and her guardian. Lord Blakeney placed her on her feet and as she got up, she looked up. Her eyes widened with terror, a huge crowd, Laurel in the pillory like that, her hair shorn, her face covered with garbage, being taunted and jeered and pelted. Someone had even thrown a stone at her. The poor Tailor was tied to the pillory, he too was covered with blood and garbage, his shirt falling off him. The assistant was being brutally flogged, his screams of pain adding to the jeers of the mob. Emilie shuddered and her clammy and trembling hand found Hastings's own hand. "Dear Lord" she whispered. She heard Milord say that these people had harbored someone who hurt her and Michelle and she knew very well Milord could have just hung them but it turned her stomach. Was this mob justice? She just felt sick. She didn't doubt Milord's judgment, she just didn't want to see it! She drew closer to Hastings, terrified.
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The next morning when Cristof awoke, he had himself dressed and sped to town by horse, to demand the release of Laurel, the devil may care what happens. He didn't even eat, fasting for the benefit of the beautiful woman he loved. When he arrived at town, the town was deserted accept for people making their way to the town square. He was afraid to know what was happening and if Laurel was hung, he'd...
He tied his horse away and followed the crowds on foot, his heart beating fast and then heard a scream. He ran as fast as he could and came to a sight that was ghastly. Laurel, his exquisite, proud Laurel, shaved and put in the pillory like a common thief, it was a crime that cried out to heaven. Her hair, her gorgeous hair cut off and lying on the floor, hair like that, red gold like a fire, to fall like that, on the floor. No one but him should be allowed to touch that precious hair! His heart broke; he wanted Andre hurt, not her, never her! She was sobbing in pain while the crowds cheered. How dare the populace cheer at the degradation of such a noble girl? Tears streamed from his dark eyes, as his heart felt as if it was torn from his chest. He also saw Planchette, hands tied into leather straps above his head being flogged with his clerk being prepared to go next but that of course was not the important part. His beloved Laurel, how could she be brought so low? His eyes noticed a grim Lord Blakeney sitting and directing, with the pet on the floor in a dead faint. He had fanned the flames of her hatred, had he allowed the flames to burn too much? Yes, he had. But he was not to blame. This was all HER fault, her and her brainless rude horrible family. As soon as he got the pet alone, he'd make her suffer for every minute Laurel did!
He wanted to order this stopped but only his father could go up against Lord Blakeney like this. He dare not approach Blakeney now but he had to do something. He ran to the nearest shop and vowed he'd visit Laurel in prison with supplies to help her. He would defend this beauty and he'd get revenge for all the evil those cursed Anglais did!
