There were moments, even in the shadow of the terrible thing to come, when they were a family at peace with each other in Tom's humble home that evening. He plied her with drink, hopeful that she would sleep peacefully through the night, but she resisted his efforts.

"I want to lie awake in your arms until we are alone as they sleep," she said with a nod of her head toward their children. "And then I want you to love me in this house. I want that memory to take with me tomorrow, Tom Builder," she said calmly.

Then she directed him in laying out bandages and instructed him how to bathe her lacerated skin when it was over.

"There is a salve in the cave. Jack knows the one. Send him for it. It will help,' she said simply.

And he marveled at her strength.

…

Ellen slept, finally, in his arms and he allowed himself to believe that when tomorrow was over, she would be able to remain there for the rest of their lives.

As for Tom, he spent most of his night in prayer, thinking about what was to come, trying not to think about what was to come. He prayed for strength to carry through an escape for Ellen, while Philip, alone in his room between services, prayed for some method of comfort he might offer to help Tom's woman face the trial.

Tom heard the brothers as they entered the worship site for matins and he heard them again at the time of morning prayer. It was at that point that he knew they dared not delay any longer.

He kissed Ellen awake and simply held her quietly for a few moments.

"Do you believe me when I tell you I will take care of you?" he asked finally.

She did not respond for a moment.

"I believe you will do everything a man can do. That is all I can ask and I have no right to even that. I brought my troubles on myself. But you are just one man against a Bishop, Tom," she said. "What can you do?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. But God can," he said with such quiet confidence that even she could not find it in her heart to argue against his faith.

...

Tom would have insisted their children stay safe inside the house that day, but Waleran's order carried with it the implicit command that the village witness Ellen's ordeal. He knew the prelate would have a sharp eye out for those closest to them — the ones most likely to suffer, as well. Better to have them there already than to have Waleran send for them. Who knew how his anger might play itself out in such circumstances?

The family emerged from the house just as Prior Philip came from the chapel site. He hurried toward them and reached for Ellen's hands — a movement entirely out of character and gravely out of order, but one he did not think twice about.

"Will you let me pray for you?" he asked, blinking back tears of pity.

But Ellen shook her head. "You put yourself at risk here. Pray when they bind me." And she turned toward the center of the village, where a crowd was already starting to gather.

Tom moved to put his arm around her and they walked purposefully toward the punishment site. Behind him, the builder heard Martha begin to sob and knew Prior Philip would turn his attention to comforting her.

There was a buzz of excited conversation as they entered the wide circle of villagers. Punishment of this nature was not handed out every day — particularly not to a woman. Had Waleran not commanded their presence, most would have been there anyway. Ellen's face was familiar to many of them, but she had no personal connection, so it was possible to look on her condition with a strange level of excitement rather than concern or commiseration.

What had previously been hidden from their view came into sharp focus as Tom and Ellen moved within the shelter of the group. Two of Waleran's men were tying stout bindings of leather to the four legs of an X-shaped wooden upright. The Bishop himself stood near the structure, speaking to a third servant. From his hand trailed a braided leather whip. Ellen could not contain the shudder that passed over her body as she caught sight of the instrument of her punishment.

As though sensing her reaction, Waleran turned and moved toward them with menace in every step. He stopped a short distance away and waited until Prior Philip had taken his place on Ellen's other side and her son and Tom's children were spread out behind her.

The hum of the crowd died down as he spoke.

"I remind you, woman, that you have no right to speak here. Silence is your only appeal for mercy. Be assured you can only add to your punishment with anything you say," he declared with authority. The message was clear and Ellen forced herself to lower her eyes and bow her head slightly in submission. However, Waleran wanted to be certain she would not yield to temptation. He raised the hand holding the braided whip and allowed its length to play out on the ground. Having commanded his victim's attention, he held out his other hand and enjoyed the satisfaction of having his servant place the handle of a second, shorter coil in his palm. This one, too, he raised toward Ellen.

"If you cannot hold you tongue, woman, be certain I will help you. While you will find a dozen lashes with the braided lady most 'uncomfortable,' I can assure you, you will discover the kiss of her mate is virtually impossible to bear."

Many in the crowd realized, at almost the same time Ellen became aware, that the strips of leather bound in the second whip had been unbraided for the space of a dozen inches and each tip had been imbedded with a small shard of stone. The instrument of torture was guaranteed not only to rip the skin to shreds but to tear the underlying muscle and connective tissue and, perhaps, even chip or break bone.

Prior Philip had never seen such a piece before, but he knew it matched the description of the scourge used upon the Christ. Almost to perfection.

Ellen's knees threatened to give way, but Tom's strong arm held her secure and she reminded herself that she could buy her freedom from the more serious torture with something as simple as her silence. Whatever such an effort cost her spirit, it was one she knew she would pay — so long as she did not have to look at Waleran's gloating face.

She kept her eyes turned down in an evasive gesture she prayed he would accept as subservience and waited with a sick churning in her stomach. Whatever happened to her here today would be on the lips of the townspeople for months to come. She must not provide them with any more "amusement" or fodder for their gossip than she could help. Her dignity was the only weapon she possessed and she vowed Waleran would not take it from her, no matter what he did.

"Read the sentence so there will be no misunderstanding of what is to take place here today," Waleran ordered brusquely and another servant shoved the command he had penned the day before into Prior Philip's hand. He read it in a voice that trembled slightly, but he made sure he read it loud enough to be heard by everyone in the crowd. He did not think he could have done it a second time if the Bishop had been able to claim the first attempt was not a thorough one.

"The necessity for severity is clear," Waleran said. "Scripture tells us without the shedding of blood there can be no forgiveness of sin. Let us begin, then. Seize and bind her and then strip her so that her shame may be clear to all," he ordered with a gesture to the guards.

Philip bit his tongue to force back a bitter refutation of Waleran's blatant misapplication of holy scripture, sickened by his superior's arrogance and sensuality disguised as piety.

As for Ellen, she felt Tom's arm slip from her shoulders and knew the time had come. She hesitated a moment, gathering her courage on a deep breath.

And she heard Tom speak.

"Take me."

...