Bound Series - Bound by Fear
James Norrington never questioned his orders. This was what he was trained to do, what he had sworn to uphold. The King’s Law, whether administered by Governor Swann or Lord Beckett, was to be carried out to the letter, regardless of the name upon the parchment.
Estrella Brown was in the second group that cloudy morn, her soiled face and gown in stark contrast to the demur and proper lady’s maid she’d once been. Governor Swann flinched as he was forced to watch one of his own household staff being led to the gallows, a not so subtle reminder of what the former maid’s mistress faced upon capture.
Lord Beckett himself gave the signal to the executioner, watching impassively as the bodies twitched and jerked, soiling themselves before becoming still.
There had been no one to claim the body, her father having already passed on, and the maid was unceremoniously cut down and piled onto the coffin cart, to be buried in a mass grave outside town.
Handkerchief to lips, the horrified Swann had averted his eyes as any usable items were stripped from the lifeless bodies, crudely revealing their nakedness for all to see, only to find another cart being loaded, the vision rendering Weatherby into a shuddering, wordless wreck at the sight of a dead man’s erected manhood, as if dying had fulfilled his most secret fantasies.
He startled, jumped, bile rising into his throat at the words crooned softly in his ear.
“Now, now, Weatherby,” Beckett tapped the cobbled floor impatiently with his walking stick, punctuating his words. “Tears for a servant girl? Tsk, tsk. This will not do.”
Swann swallowed hard multiple times, struggling to keep himself standing, and wiped his eyes, while the last warm memory of better times was sullied by Beckett’s words. “She had been in my service since she was a child. She was like a daughter to me.”
Beckett let a smile hover slightly before banishing it. “And like your daughter, she was rightly condemned for her crimes.”
He leaned closer, his words a menacing, cutting whisper, his pale hand cupping to the corner of his mouth, as if he were sharing a fantastic secret, for the Governor’s ears only. “Imagine your little Elizabeth, how she will - and she will, when it’s her time, first gasp in desperation as the noose tightens, her breath cut off as her face purples and neck stretches. Her limbs will begin to twitch, and then, as she joins death for her last dance, she will sully herself, defiling herself, as she has defiled your good name. And then - she dies.”
Beckett paused, shaking his head deprecatingly, letting his words sink in and, finding the Governor choking around his despair, turned cold eyes to his clerk and asked, “Any word?”
“No, milord.” Mercer’s face was a mask of indifference. “The Swann girl has not yet been located.”
Norrington locked angry eyes with Swann, where defeat was suddenly replaced with the slightest kindle of new hope.
****
Estrella Brown was in the second group that cloudy morn, her soiled face and gown in stark contrast to the demur and proper lady’s maid she’d once been. Governor Swann flinched as he was forced to watch one of his own household staff being led to the gallows, a not so subtle reminder of what the former maid’s mistress faced upon capture.
Lord Beckett himself gave the signal to the executioner, watching impassively as the bodies twitched and jerked, soiling themselves before becoming still.
There had been no one to claim the body, her father having already passed on, and the maid was unceremoniously cut down and piled onto the coffin cart, to be buried in a mass grave outside town.
Handkerchief to lips, the horrified Swann had averted his eyes as any usable items were stripped from the lifeless bodies, crudely revealing their nakedness for all to see, only to find another cart being loaded, the vision rendering Weatherby into a shuddering, wordless wreck at the sight of a dead man’s erected manhood, as if dying had fulfilled his most secret fantasies.
He startled, jumped, bile rising into his throat at the words crooned softly in his ear.
“Now, now, Weatherby,” Beckett tapped the cobbled floor impatiently with his walking stick, punctuating his words. “Tears for a servant girl? Tsk, tsk. This will not do.”
Swann swallowed hard multiple times, struggling to keep himself standing, and wiped his eyes, while the last warm memory of better times was sullied by Beckett’s words. “She had been in my service since she was a child. She was like a daughter to me.”
Beckett let a smile hover slightly before banishing it. “And like your daughter, she was rightly condemned for her crimes.”
He leaned closer, his words a menacing, cutting whisper, his pale hand cupping to the corner of his mouth, as if he were sharing a fantastic secret, for the Governor’s ears only. “Imagine your little Elizabeth, how she will - and she will, when it’s her time, first gasp in desperation as the noose tightens, her breath cut off as her face purples and neck stretches. Her limbs will begin to twitch, and then, as she joins death for her last dance, she will sully herself, defiling herself, as she has defiled your good name. And then - she dies.”
Beckett paused, shaking his head deprecatingly, letting his words sink in and, finding the Governor choking around his despair, turned cold eyes to his clerk and asked, “Any word?”
“No, milord.” Mercer’s face was a mask of indifference. “The Swann girl has not yet been located.”
Norrington locked angry eyes with Swann, where defeat was suddenly replaced with the slightest kindle of new hope.
****