Page 32 of Caroline the Cruel
“Did you do it?” she asked, simply.
“I didn’t kill anybody, Majesty. I swear. Otto slipped. I tried to stop him. When I pulled his body from the river, he was already gone.”
“You bashed his skull in,” the other man seethed.
“I told you, he hit it on the rocks.”
Caroline was watching their interchange through squinted eyes. It was like she was trying to gauge which one was lying without using her power. He suspected she had a guess already.
“Quiet,” Caroline said. The men silenced and directed their attention toward her. “Will the accused please step forward?”
The stocky man’s mouth dropped open as he obeyed. Guards stepped up, readying their weapons in case he tried to bolt. “I didn’t do it, Majesty. Please—”
“How many other people have you killed?” She looked over at a paper being extended to her by Angus. “Samuel?” His name was a lulling melody on her tongue.
He shook his head, eyes wide with fear.
“I’ve been doing this since I was fourteen, Samuel. I know when a man is lying. So, will you confess, or shall I make you?”
A dark stain spread from the front of his trousers and Johnneth darted a glance between Samuel and the queen. He was almost certain that Samuel hadn’t been lying. That it had truly been an accident and the pitiful man was innocent.
“Go on,” she prodded, voice dripping with mock sweetness.
Samuel was unable to speak. His terror had gripped him into silence.
”As it suits you.” Caroline shrugged.
Shaking, trying to fight off her control and failing, Samuel talked, confessing to a string of murders. After the first one, he couldn’t stop. Killing had become his solution for when he didn’t get what he wanted. It had made him feel powerful, taking what he’d believed was owed to him, from man and woman alike. When he’d gotten to what he’d taken from the women before he’d killed them, Caroline stopped him.
“I’ve heard enough from your vile mouth. Angus?” With a flick of her fingers, Angus brought forth a burgundy velvet pillow from a pedestal he stood behind. Atop it sat a looming threat.
This was the punishment which fed much of the gossip and Johnneth was about to witness it firsthand. Though he tried, he wasn’t strong enough to shield the cringe that overtook his features. The man had destroyed the lives of a sizable number of people, he reminded himself. He would get a death sentence in either kingdom.
“Are you ready for your punishment, killer?” Caroline rose from the throne and sauntered over to the pillow Angus held, picking up the long dagger by the blade. At a dramatic pace, she stepped down the stairs toward Samuel, and he followed a step behind. Johnneth turned to Angus for a clue, but an amused grin was playing across his face.Gods. Was he the only rational one in this room? This was madness.
Caroline extended the blade to Samuel. “Since you like killing so much, I figure you’d prefer to do it yourself.”
Samuel’s body was convulsing, his fear etched into the deepening worry lines of his face as he stared down at his fate.
“Go on, take it.” Caroline thought Samuel’s hand up, wrapping his stubby fingers around the hilt of the weapon.All anyone could do was watch.
“Do it over there.” She gestured to the side of the room opposite the windows where benches had been cleared away. “I have more petitioners today and I don’t want them to have to stand in a pool of your blood.” She compelled the man to walk to the spot where an old rust-colored stain darkened the stones.
Caroline positioned him right over it and took her time, drawing it out, making the man raise the blade and point it toward his own heart. This was a part of the punishment, too. The sheer dread the anticipation created.
Samuel impaled himself with sick fascination, the sharp tip sliding in easily. Caroline had done this before,many times, knowing right where to aim the blade so it wouldn’t become obstructed on a rib. Thinking of his father, his stomach turned as sweat beaded on his upper lip. He struggled with the memories until they became a distant flicker in his mind once again.
The killer slumped lifelessly to the floor, his skull cracking as it smashed against the rock. Blood spread from both wounds, mirroring the old smear.
“Git rid of the body,” Angus commanded. Guards hurried to grab the body under his shoulders and drag him from the room, leaving a bloody trail behind his boots.
Caroline didn’t address the accuser or glance back at him again before she called, “Next.”
The case following the murder was a child abuse allegation. Johnneth had never seen her quite so shaken as when the mother had shown her the little girl’s battered arms and back. Before the mother could tell her more of the horrors the girl had endured at the hands of the man who was supposed to be her greatest protector, Caroline had swiftly issued the sentence.
By all outward appearances, the queen made it look like she wanted to get on with the proceedings, but Johnneth was beginning to suspect that the well-being of children was the cruel queen’s one soft spot. She had spared the child the horror of having to relive the abuse, immediately reading the situation.
She promised support for the teary mother until she was able to get on her feet, the mother, who was profusely grateful to the queen for believing her. So, the scribe had handed the mother the order, and they left the oratory. The husband would never see the light of day again, but the mother had glanced at the spill of blood to her left more times than Johnneth could count and begged Caroline to punish, but notkillthe child’s father. Caroline had complied with the woman’s wishes.
