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and dog with a hand’s wave.
    “What poor soul are you roasting, today?” Frowning, Nicholas kicked at the iron bracelets attached to the base of the assembly.
    “I might say it’s none of your concern. However, as you are her guest, you should know.” The priest grinned, exposing yellowed teeth, and circled the wood. He pushed on the center post, nodding gleefully.
    Wary villagers, dressed in plain linens, gathered in the square to watch.
    “You intend to burn the queen?” Clenching his teeth, he pictured flames licking Fay’s ivory skin, her green eyes glazed in terror.
    “A sin as grave as hers cannot go unpunished.” The priest continued bobbing his tonsured head with a hint of madness.
    The curious grew to over two dozen as Nicholas argued her case. Finally, he raised his arms to the Almighty. With perfect timing, he pointed at the priest just as the sun ducked behind a cloud. “What if, as another holy man of God, I can prove to you that Lady Fay is God-fearing? Would you put-off her demise?”
    The priest jumped up on the platform, shouting to the crowd, “She confessed her sins. Vengeance is mine, so sayeth God , and I am His instrument here on Man.”
    Nicholas countered, thanking his mother for the modicum of religion he’d managed to memorize. “For He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. ”
    A tavern woman, still holding her establishment’s ceramic pitcher, kicked at the wooden structure until a board came loose. “I’ll explain what ungodliness goes on here, Brother. Once Lady Fay is dead, him and his bishop take what is rightfully hers. And you would let him do it?” She turned to the townspeople and scowled at them all.
    The villagers that had gathered around the platform tolerated her disdainful scowl. With thumb and forefinger together, she circled her hand to the right and to the left twice. Her brown kirtle swirled when she turned and stomped back into the tavern.
    What a brave, or stupid wench. Nicholas made the sign of the cross over the small crowd, hoping to dissolve her curse. “ Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
    He crossed his arms over his chest, waited, and frowned.
    One industrious lad, dressed in short tunic, stole the pile of straw. Another grabbed the pail of pitch. They ran off toward a building in need of a new roof. Then, one by one, the rest of the villagers pulled the small structure apart, and went back to their daily chores.
    The red-faced priest turned to Nicholas and said, “I give you a fortnight to bring her to me. She shall proclaim her belief in Christ, in front of me, here in the square, or burn.”
    Nicholas considered how best to thrash the weasel when Eaton surprised him by stepping out of the shadows.
    A large cowl covered his face. “Come along Brother, I do believe your work here is done.”
    “Not until I have gathered what we need for a few meals. From what I’ve seen of the ledgers, these fine folk owe back taxes. I’m going to collect.” He turned toward a shop with slabs of mutton hanging out front and his mouth watered.
    “That’s why you asked me to follow?” Eaton’s mail clunked as he raced to catch up.
    “I already have no love of this village or its people.” Under their feet, the road changed from dirt to slabs of stone, and the buildings more solidly built. “These good people should be aiding the lady, not building an altar to burn her.”
    “Now, now, Brother Nicodemus, a forgiving heart may be what is needed. We know not what evils these people have suffered.”
    “Eaton? You surprise me.” He stopped in front of the butcher, where the portly owner eyed them warily.
    His friend put a palm to his arm, and for once spoke with sincerity. “I was not always a knight. Even now, my fortune rests with your success. She’ll need the love of these people. Robbing food off their tables is not the way to make it happen.”
    “So what do you suggest?” Nicholas