The Verderer

"Good God! What have they done to you, lass?" The Verderer's deep baritone was accompanied by her brother's high-pitched counter point. "Chrissy, Chrissy are you OK?" Was she OK? After the shock of Bishop Anthryl's lechery and the trauma of being groped like a Christmas goose Christine didn't know how to answer her brother. Luckily, the Verderer had a pretty good idea of what he might find in the darkness and instructed Erik to go stand watch by the door.

In the Verderer's strong hands was the ring of keys she had last seen clipped onto the grey-haired goaler's belt, and when he released the manacles that had chaffed red rings into the soft skin of her wrists Christine felt the tears that she had held back burst like a spring flood. She collapsed in a heap clinging to her rescuer afraid that if she released him, she might find it was all a cruel dream.

"Easy, my lady." The Verderer seemed unsure what to do with the sobbing woman clinging to his knees, "We have to move quickly, Lady Christine. It is not safe here, for you or your brother." At the mention of her brother, Christine pulled herself together and climbed to her feet. She had a chance to still make things right, but it was so hard to think straight. It took her a while, but she realized that her rescuer was no longer speaking or even moving.

The Verderer stared at the Lady Christine with a slack jaw mesmerized by the sight of the perfect white globes peeking through the lacing of her tunic. The poor young woman was clearly disoriented by the horrors that she had undergone, her tear-streaked face was smudged with dirt and her hair a messy tangle, but to him she was as beautiful as he remembered. More times than he was comfortable to admit, Werner had caught himself thinking about the pretty maid he had freed from the groping hands of the lawless trio in the King's Forests. He should have gone with her to see this Merthin of Gold Street; if he had, he might have saved her from this horror.

When the Erik had showed up at his house, he had been surprised but skeptical, but when the lad had poured out his sad story Werner knew he had to act. Even if this poor refugee hadn't been young and beautiful, he would have had to get involved. He owed it to her brother. Baron Gerard's lands were on the Western border of the King's Forest and Werner had ridden patrols with the Baron's older son dozens of times. More than a half dozen years ago he had gotten to know Sir Godfrey and was genuinely sorry to hear of his untimely ****.

To hear from Erik how her family had been victimized first by the Bastard Prince, then the greedy Notary and finally by the Bishop of Oldchester himself was more than Werner could take. Now here she was, her unlaced tunic open and it was all he could do to turn away and coughed awkwardly. He knew too well the reputation Bishop Anthryl had with young women, judging by the state of her clothing and the haunted look in this poor girl's eyes he could only imagine what that lecherous pig had done to this innocent maiden.

It wasn't until she heard the Verderer's embarrassed cough that Christine realized just how poorly the linen rag covered her flesh. She pulled frantically at the lacing trying to close the gap in the tunic her face getting redder and redder. Even though just a few hours ago she had been stripped and groped by the Church guardsmen, this was far more embarrassing, those men had been coarse strangers, the Verderer was ... well she didn't know what he was, but other than perhaps her father, she could think of no man she would rather be rescued by.

"We must go, Lady Christine." Master Werner took off his cloak and handed the woolen garment to the barely dressed young maiden. "I have to get you somewhere safe until we can figure out what your next steps might be."