Chapter 25
It was fortunate, in Joseph's mind, that he had been through so many battles in his lifetime. And had seen so many executions. It made all the blood and gore more bearable to look at, and he didn't fuss as much as he might've done otherwise, whenever he accidentally stepped in some.
It was a pity that some of them had to be maids, strewn amongst the dead as he walked through the house. They might've been fun for a couple of rides.
But he didn't let his thoughts linger there. He had a more important task at hand, and there was plenty of supple, willing flesh out there, still living and breathing. These maids were just in the way at the time, as were the footmen, the pages, the cooks and any of the other bloodied corpses he passed on his way.
Their slaughter was nothing personal. It simply had to happen.
His associate's men certainly knew what they were doing, too. They'd been ordered to raid Niles' lodge and not leave a single servant alive as a witness, and they were managing that swiftly and efficiently.
Just as professionals did.
It seemed that they were close to accomplishing their goal, as well; the further the king and the guards made their way through the rooms, stepping over bodies, pools of blood or broken furniture from fighting, and all the while he could hear the Babcock girl's screams getting louder.
"No! Please! Stop it – let go of him! Let go!"
It sounded like there had to be someone with her, if she was begging so hard for their life. He could hear grunts and yelps of pain, too, alongside shouting and the dull thud of fists pounding into flesh.
Until suddenly, that all stopped.
The shrieking and caterwauling as they walked ever closer towards the door was all hers, though. And that carried on like the continuous ring of a church bell on a Sunday morning.
"No! Let go of me! Get off! Laurens! Laurens, get up! Get up, please!"
The corners of Joseph's mouth twitched upwards briefly. Whatever had happened in the next room – and he was about to find out what that was – he already thought it obvious that this "Laurens" fellow wasn't going to do as the girl asked.
Indeed, he found just one body on the floor when he reached the room. It was crumpled, and curled up with a dark red stain creeping out over its clothes and onto the floor around it.
If Laurens was alive still, he wouldn't be much longer.
His shape looked vaguely familiar, too, the king thought as he glanced in passing. He must've been the butler, or some such, to the lodge. He'd probably been trying to do his misguided duty in protecting the girl.
Poor fool.
The girl, who even now was trying to break herself free from the guards holding her by the arms, wasn't worth protecting. She had seduced his boy in a manner that Joseph simply couldn't allow – if Niles had merely had his fun with her and then dropped her, he would've congratulated his son on a job well done and then had his turn, before they could both look for fresher meat.
But no. She had chosen to marry his son. The whore had gotten above her station, and she was going to be punished for not backing down while she still had the chance. She would doom the kingdom to ruin and humiliation, if he allowed any of it to continue any further. So he simply wouldn't.
He had his plan. He'd see it through, and by the end, no one who'd been in that lodge before he, his men and the Earl of Carlisle's men had arrived, would be around to tell the tale of that night.
The only reason he was even keeping her alive (and relatively untouched, minus the guards) at that moment was because of the baby growing inside her belly.
Her belly, which was swollen so much larger than he had even imagined it would be! How big would any child be, that had come from that?!
He might not even have to let the people he'd sold her child to end her life, by the time she got to her labour. Surely, giving birth to a baby that size would do all the hard work for them!
But now it wasn't the time to worry about the girl's death. She had yet to find out that she was sentenced to die, at any rate, and that her child would be given to a worthier family. Said family, as it so happened, were the Earl and Countess of Carlisle. Joseph considered them to be two of his staunchest supporters, and they'd readily accepted his deal. They were of the opinion that dirty whores such as Lady Babcock weren't supposed to climb up the social ladder, and had been more than happy to end her misery and give her child a happy life.
They hadn't been able to have a child of their own, so an heir was more than welcome. Joseph knew they'd be wonderful parents, and the child would never have to know about his or her shameful origins. They'd grow up to be happy, hard-working and cultured members of society.
"We meet at last, slut," he spat at the terrified woman before delivering a swift, hard slap across her face. "That, my dear, was for trying to make a fool out of me."
He then delivered yet another slap, this time on her other cheek. Had the guards not been holding her, she'd have probably collapsed to the ground.
"And that, was for whoring your way up the social ladder by using that thing between your legs to cajole my son into marrying you, you little slut!"
It was obvious from the way she glared back up at him that the guards hadn't subdued her entirely. The fire burning as hot as the sun in her eyes told him that girl still had some fight in her.
"I never cajoled him into anything, Your Majesty," she spat his title with enough venom to kill an army of men. "Your son married me because he loves me. Not that you'd understand what that is, considering the only person you love is yourself!"
That earned her another hard slap across the face, and Joseph made sure it was as hard as he could get it.
He wasn't going to stand for insolence like that! She dared to be rude to her king? The man who held her very life in the palm of his hand?! She deserved to suffer the consequences – of everything she'd done, not just her pithy little act of rebellion!
He'd see to it that she suffered while she did. The Carlisles were good at that sort of thing. So much so, that he'd once considered making the Earl Constable of the Tower. That way he'd be able to choose his own lord lieutenant, and they'd both be able to treat the prisoners as they saw fit...
He'd been forced to reconsider, for one reason or another, but now he felt as though he might be able to make up for it. He'd give them a worthy prisoner; the traitorous whore who'd nearly destroyed the whole kingdom!
She'd be gone for good. Again, it was a pity, considering he'd have liked a turn or two on her. But her insolence and insistence on climbing to where she didn't belong had to take precedence.
He leaned in close to her face, never once blinking as he kept his gaze steadily on hers.
"You will come to regret your poorly chosen words, girl. As well as everything else you have done or tried to do, here."
"You accuse me of having committed a crime, but you have yet to say which!" she replied, teeth bared and venom dripping from her every word. "Love is no crime, sir, and that's the only thing your son and I are guilty of."
Joseph could've scoffed aloud at this apparent declaration of innocence. Not that it would do her any good – her guilt had already been decided, and nothing would change his mind on that. She was willingly betraying her country, and there was only one sentence in the land for treason.
He stood up fully again so that he towered over her. It was how he preferred to be, whenever he passed sentence on some wretch who was about to meet their maker.
It made them look so small. Like ants, waiting to be crushed.
"You don't count treason as a crime?" he asked coldly.
He deliberately paused to relish in her panic, as her eyes grew wide and she began to struggle against her guards again.
"Treason?!"
She sounded as though she could scarcely believe her own ears. But she'd barely heard a thing, as of yet.
Even thinking about it set a smile on the king's lips.
"You will be taken from this place, to the home of the Earl and Countess of Carlisle. There, you will be kept until you have given birth, at which point, you shall be executed."
"What?!"
C.C. thought she must have been trapped in a nightmare. She had to be, didn't she?! The king hadn't just had all her friends in the lodge slaughtered, all to come and arrest her and then have her killed on a charge she hadn't committed!
It couldn't be happening, not really – the plan couldn't be going wrong like this! They'd come so far, and now they were going to fall at the last moment?! That wasn't right! It wasn't fair! That wasn't what was supposed to happen! She was supposed to live – to make a loving family with Niles, to have his children and to be his wife, no matter what anybody said!
He'd promised her they'd rule together. Where had that future gone...?!
She could feel a sense of deep, impenetrable dread and despair coming over her as Joseph continued, smiling like he was enjoying it all very much.
"Of course, the child will never know about any of this. The Carlisles wanted to keep it, and in exchange for carrying out your execution and burial themselves, as well as a monetary conversation, I will be allowing them. They'll make finer parents than you ever would've been, you little whore."
Everything in C.C. – internally and externally – suddenly began to scream in a way that made her think she'd never stop. Her lungs burned and so did her eyes with the tears that came as her heart cracked, then splintered, being crushed into smaller and smaller pieces until it became fine dust.
Her body was battered and sore from trying to fight the guards who had just killed one of her closest friends, ached. Just like the hollow in her chest, where she'd once held everything dear.
Her baby...they were going to take her baby, too...?!
No. No, she wouldn't let them take her baby! Not the little one that she had made out of love, with her husband, to start the family that they'd dreamed of having!
She wouldn't let them do it! She wouldn't let them put the baby with some other family, who'd bought it like cattle, just because they'd wanted one!
She barely heard the king as he ordered the troops to take her away. She was too busy trying to fight back, to run, to do something that might give her and her baby a chance...!
They had to get away. They had to get to Niles! He'd protect them from everything, and get them to France. No one could touch them in the French king's court – that had been promised! She could give birth in comfort and peace, before returning to England, and reuniting with her love.
They could be a family again...just like he'd promised...
She shouted more, screamed, cursed and spat as she attempted to wrestle her arms away from her captors. But none of it was any use. She was exhausted even from trying; she'd begged and they'd killed Laurens. She'd fought and they'd held on harder.
And now she was being taken away to a doom she couldn't prevent.
Her love would never know what had happened to her, or their child. And their child would grow up not knowing it had been traded for money, all because their grandfather had hated their mother so much, he'd rather have seen her dead than married to his son.
She cursed Joseph once more, loudly, before she was dragged out of his sight, and as she went with the guards to God only knew where next, she tried hard not to imagine some other woman snatching up her baby to sing it a lullaby, and to wrap it in blankets and call it her own...
She tried, and she failed. And from that, she began to weep.
They'd known it would be coming. The carriage. It bobbed gently up and down as it pulled up the gravel path that led to their home, flanked at each side by armed men – their armed men. They'd sent the best of the best, in order to pull this off, and they'd clearly delivered.
In a way, the couple thought to themselves, the stork was about to arrive, carrying the precious heir or heiress they'd been praying for. It didn't really matter that they'd eventually have to slay it – as long as they got what they wanted, they didn't mind getting their hands a little dirty.
King Joseph had been most kind by giving them this unique opportunity, and they weren't going to fail him, either. He hadn't tagged along to see the prisoner handed over to her gaolers, but that didn't surprise them – the girl wasn't worth the effort. Just like the King had said, she was but a common little wench who'd gotten too big for her boots.
"Ready, my sweet?" Charles Howard, Earl of Carlisle, said to his wife, offering her a bright smile.
"Never been readier, my lord!" replied Elizabeth Howard, Countess of Carlisle.
Together, they crossed the courtyard as the carriage came to a halt. They could already hear the girl's muffled cries coming from inside.
Not that crying would do her any good. Her fate was sealed, even from before she'd even set foot in the carriage that had brought her right to their doorstep.
They should've thought of something like this a long time ago. Had they realised before that no one would miss a pregnant whore, they'd have taken one off the street and done the exact same thing.
It was possible that they could've had four or five children by now. But they couldn't dwell on what they hadn't done – this was their firstborn. Their heir, coming right now and so very nearly ready to arrive into the world...
The men forced the carriage door open and pulled the girl out, never once giving her time to run or even to think about looking for a way out. Not that she would've been able to, with the size of that belly – it was too big for her to even think about trying to get away!
Elizabeth smirked at it. If her belly was that big, surely the baby had to be of a great size, too? That meant it was healthy, and strong. It would survive infancy, and with their love and guidance, would grow up to be a strong, happy child. Even better if it was a boy – he'd be a great strapping lad, just like his father, and he'd learn to manage their estate with the same iron fist.
Charles, on the other hand, could only grin at the girl's face.
She was pretty. Some might even say beautiful, with those sapphire eyes and statuesque features, all framed in golden blonde hair. As the baby's mother, there was a good chance that the little one would grow up to look like her, and all the better if it did, if it was a girl.
They'd find her a husband before she turned fifteen, at that rate. She'd never grow up to be a whore, like the woman who'd birthed her.
Not that she'd ever know about her.
It was, in some respects, a pity that they had to off the girl right after she'd had the baby. She would've made a delightful plaything – even with the belly, he could see she was curvaceous, and Charles liked being able to run his hands over curves...
He'd never managed to keep a whore in the house, so having one so close to hand was more than a temptation. But he knew he had to resist; the king's orders came first, after all.
The guards brought her forward in short time, and he heard his wife give an excited giggle.
Anticipation was almost crackling in the air, like lightning in thunderclouds. Charles could feel it as well, growing heavier with every step they took. It would be some time before they held the child in their arms, but that day got closer with every passing second.
And the girl who'd been brought to a halt in front of them for a quick inspection would be gone soon after.
"Here is the girl, my lord," said the head of their household guard. "Delivered as promised."
Exactly as promised, Charles thought to himself. The men had done well, and they wouldn't have left a single survivor to witness the incident when they were done.
They were very good at that. It was, in part, why the Howards were so rich – what good was having a small fighting force if you couldn't use them sometimes? As long as they stayed away from using anything with the family colours or crest, they could get away with...well, murder.
Traders, merchants, caravans. All were fair game, if Charles said so. It served as practice for the men, and as long as King Joseph got at least some of the proceeds, he was more than willing to look the other way.
It served everybody. As did this latest raid.
"Excellent work. You may return to your duties," he smiled at the man. It turned vicious when he looked back at the girl. "My wife and I will take it from here..."
Almost as if to stress his point (and also so that the wench didn't get any ideas), Charles unsheathed a small dagger from his belt and pressed it against her neck – not so hard so that she'd be hurt, but just enough to produce a small cut. Blood trickled down her slender neck, until it reached her nightgown's neckline, staining it a deep shade of red.
"If you so much as think about doing anything stupid, I'll slice you open quicker than you can call for help," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Now, you'll stay still while my wife ties your hands. Is it clear?"
The girl nodded between barely contained sobs – she was clearly trying to keep herself from crying! Adorable. But also, rather useless…
"Good," he continued, and then gestured for his wife to proceed.
Once Lady Carlisle had bound her hands, the three of them – two captors and their victim – were on their way back to the house. Given the advanced state of her pregnancy, the girl couldn't walk fast, but neither Lord nor Lady Carlisle minded. Her mobility had been greatly reduced by her monstrous stomach, and they weren't about to hurry things up and have the whore fall down. God knows what could happen to their child if she did!
Another thing that was soon evident, was that she was shaking. It was only natural, given that she was dressed only in a flimsy nightgown while out and about in the November cold. That presented yet another worry – the bitch getting sick. Again, if they wanted a healthy child, they couldn't allow that.
"Stop," ordered the Earl, taking his thick fur coat off.
He then placed it around the girl, who looked up at him in confusion.
"You're carrying mine and my wife's child. If you think I'm going to let you take the easy way out by freezing, or catching cold and losing the baby, then you have another thing coming."
He explained sternly and quickly and then forced her to keep moving. He wasn't about to let her get the wrong impression – she herself was as welcome in their house as a bout of the plague (unless she had her sluttish services to put to good use), but they had to think of the needs of their child.
Its birth mother freezing before her labour meant risking the baby. And that was something neither of the couple were willing to do, when they were so close to getting what they wanted.
They'd keep the girl inside and warm(ish) for the amount of time they had to, but after that...
The cold could easily do it for them. They could set her loose in the forest behind the house, tell her they were letting her go and watch her freeze to death as she tried to escape. Of course, they'd have their men prepared just in case it looked like she was going to make it, but watching her rush around before then would be fun.
The only concern was the ground. It was going to be difficult to bury her, even in a shallow grave, if the earth was frozen over. Her body wouldn't last until spring in their cellar...
Another option was burning her body. They'd just have to make sure to dispose of her bones far away from their home, so no suspicion would fall on them. They'd see. He didn't wish to do anything particularly messy or gruesome, given that they needed to be as swift and secretive as possible, but he knew better than anyone there were countless ways of ending a life, and many of them didn't include having the maids scrub the blood off the walls and floors.
When they eventually made it back inside, they guided the girl upstairs (she did need help on her climb up, given her poor balance), all the way to a room at the end of the first floor's hallway. It wasn't as spacious as the one C.C. had had at the lodge, and nowhere near as luxurious, but it wasn't terrible. It had a comfortable-looking, four-poster bed, a fireplace flanked by two plush armchairs, a small wardrobe, a bookcase with an impressive collection of books, and a small desk, upon which lay a number of embroidery supplies.
Had she not known this was to be her final abode before the slaughter, C.C. would have deemed it welcoming.
Her captors were looking at her with the kind of pleased expression that someone might've mistaken for welcoming, too. At a distance, where they couldn't see that the warmth and happiness didn't reach their eyes.
"See?" the Earl gestured around the room, speaking in a manner that suggested she should be grateful. "You'll even keep entertained while you're here. The hours will just fly by."
C.C. wanted to ask why on Earth he thought she'd want the hours until her eventual labour and death to pass quickly, but between having only just about stopped crying and not wanting to remind herself of that fact either, she chose to just remain silent instead.
The Earl then wandered over to the wardrobe and pulled it open, revealing a whole row stuffed to bursting point with nightdresses.
"Change into one of these," he said. "There are more than enough and you will need one for every day."
C.C. wasn't able to keep herself silent at that.
"And daywear?" she tried not to croak.
The Earl smiled unpleasantly. In turn, that almost seemed to act as a cue for the lady of the house to gleefully fetch a long chain out from under the bed. One end was already clamped to the nearest leg...
And the other was soon clamped around C.C.'s own ankle.
She didn't know what good jumping, or yelping, would do. But it happened immediately, anyway, much to the loud amusement of the Countess.
"What on Earth would you need daywear for, you stupid cow?" the Earl smirked. "It isn't as though you're going outside."
C.C. felt her heart sinking. They weren't just keeping her in this room until she was ready to die. They were intending for her to...to actually die there.
If it would've gotten her anything at all (anything good, anyway), she would've burst into fresh tears and tried to run. To pull at the chain until it came apart, and escape before they could stop her.
But it was already no use. They had her exactly where they wanted her, and she was trapped.
Once she was bound to the room, no way out and with no hope left, the couple untied her hands, turned away and began to head for the door, joyful expressions on their faces.
But the Earl stopped suddenly, as though he'd just remembered something else.
"Oh, one last thing," he said over his shoulder. "Your meals will be served at six in the morning, noon and seven at night. I suggest you are awake and prepared for them when they arrive."
Without another word, but with a lot of laughter, they then closed and locked the door, leaving C.C. alone.
Alone, in the prison where they intended her to die.
Even with the fire and the room, the thought made her feel colder than she was outside.
Cold as the grave she didn't want to think about. Not that she could help herself, as she shuffled forward, chain clanking behind her, to slump in the nearest armchair, arms coming up to envelope her belly while tears dropped silently down her cheeks.
It was hard not to let the grave consume her thoughts, when she was so close to being in one.