Page 7 of Dancing On Air

“You are the hangman’s son and when he dies, you’ll take his place,” said Sampson. “I think it’s only right that you be marked as well.”

Before Connor even realized what the man said, he felt the end of the hot poker against his own cheek. Searing pain flowed through him, causing him to cry out in pain. He felt the hands of the Lord Warden on his shoulders, pulling him away.

“Drop the damned poker and leave this family alone, Sampson,” commanded Garrett. “You have already caused them enough trouble and had no right to mark the boy, too.”

“Get them out of here,” ordered Sampson. “I want the bastard and his family off my lands immediately. Everyone, get back to work and to your homes. The festival is cancelled. Go now. No more gawking here. The day is done.” Sampson threw the hot poker to the ground and left, being followed by the reluctant crowd, still sore that they came for a festival, were promised a killing, and they didn’t get either one.

“Are you all right?” Garrett asked Connor.

Holding his burned cheek, Connor looked up to the scar on the Lord Warden’s face that started under his left ear and followed his jawline. He’d always had it as far as Connor knew, but Connor had thought it was just a wound from war. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“The burn hurts, but I’m fine,” said Connor. “Lord Warden, were you a hangman once, too? I see you also have a scar on your face.”

“Nay, I wasn’t, Connor. My scar is a wound I received saving another’s life. But that is not important now,” said Garrett. “Connor, I’m sorry, but I have to tell you that you will not be marrying my daughter anymore.”

“I… I know,” he said, looking around for Eleanor, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Where will my family live now?” asked Connor’s father, as his children all ran to him and hugged him in relief.

“Not at the castle, that’s for sure,” said Garrett. “You’ll have to find a cottage of wattle and daub outside of town, since the townsfolk won’t accept you either. I’m sorry. You are free to go now.”

“Thank you, for your help, my lord,” said Wensel, holding back his tears by biting his lip. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing my children again.” He took the newborn baby from Francesca and cradled it gently against his chest. The baby finally stopped crying.

“I understand your decision, but I will miss the fact that our children were supposed to be wed,” said Garrett. He looked at Connor and shook his head in pity. “This boy was destined to become a knight, and from what I’ve seen he would have made a damned fine one, too. But now, I am sad to have to say that Connor will never be anything… other than a hangman’s son.”