#Fields of verdun skin#

Killing a man in self defense was one thing, but taking a life with purpose and malice was not something Athos was not comfortable with. The problem had been timing, the opportunity, and, Athos sighed, the strength to move forward with King Louis’ request. The evidence Athos needed was there, the proof, and even Raboin’s admission of his allegiance to Spain had not come as a surprise. He had hidden himself behind walls, protected himself while surrounded by men he trusted, and he had even hired himself an assassin who remained hidden in the shadows, biding his time. When had Raboin been alone? When had he been on the battlefield during the fighting? When had he allowed himself to show any weakness? Athos squeezed his eyes closed and held his breath for a moment as a hot burst of pain flashed across his back. There was a piece of him that regretted not taking action sooner. The constant bangs echoing throughout the chamber, causing the birds to flee. He and his men backed away, chuckled, and then slowly left the room.Īthos pressed his forehead against the cold stone, felt the muscles of his back scream in protest. “The next time I see you,” Polo said, “I’ll be the one to kill you.” He breathed heavily against the back of Athos’ neck as he wiped the edge of his blade on the arm of his doublet. Polo released his blouse, and the fabric fell and clung to his back. The guard hooked to the chain above Athos’ head and left him leaning against the pillar. The metal clanged and scraped battered flesh.

One of the guards grabbed Athos’ wrists by the shackles and forced his hands upward.

#Fields of verdun skin#

He took his time, slow, methodical movements that were meant to inflict fear, humiliation, and pain.Īthos hitched his breath, and felt his skin crawl as blood ran down his back and toward the waistband of his britches. He ran it across Athos’ right shoulder blade, until it reached his spine, and then repeated the process two more times on two different scars. Polo looked over his shoulder toward his men, and then suddenly ran his blade along the most visible scar. “What did you do, Captain, that earned you those scars?” He chuckled again when Athos inhaled. He tightened his hand around the grip and then pressed the point against a faint scar on Athos’ back. “The scars of a marked man,” Polo said, and pulled a knife from his belt. He swallowed when he heard Polo chuckle and then shove the blouse upward. It cause his blouse to shift upward, and Polo motioned toward one of his men to raise the lantern toward Athos’ face.Īthos closed his eyes, felt the heat of the flames against his skin, and he breathed through his nose. Polo grabbed a fistful of Athos’ blouse and pushed him harder against the pillar.

And then with a slow exhale near Athos’ left ear he muttered, “Humiliate me in front of my men.” He nodded, and one of his men picked up the chain and tossed it over a hook high on the pillar. Athos inhaled sharply, but kept his jaw clenched. Polo stepped behind him, grabbed a fistful of hair, and yanked his head back. Two of Polo’s guards shoved Athos forward, and he raised his hands to protect his head as he landed against the pillar. A collection of bird droppings had accumulated on the sill and on the floor beneath it. Two birds flocked and fluttered their feathers in a window at the far end of the room. Finely crafted arches ran along the length, each supported with its own pillar that was buried deep within the ground. The men continued to grip his upper arms as they led him toward the support pillar in the center of the hollow chamber. The cold air hit Athos’ skin once again as Polo pushed him into the undercroft room.