“Methought I gave you an order, Gunther. I want this treacherous woman forever banned from my sight,” Brant commanded. “You are to take this prisoner to her chamber. She is to be tied to the bed.”
A murmur rose over the hall at Brant’s decree. Gunther didn’t answer. Della knew he was seated behind her at one of the tables. Scared, she forced herself to continue.
“M’lord, may I please have a word with you?” The words came more forcibly this time and the hall stayed silent. Servants stared in bewilderment, pausing in their duties to watch the reunion . Some of them yawned, having been awakened from their sleep.
Brant’s breathing deepened notably. The men watched with avid attention, not even lifting their goblets to drink. She felt their eyes on her, waiting.
“M’lord, I would explain how you are wrong,” Della persisted, never having seen him this distant. There was a terrifying quality to his controlled temper.
“How I have wronged you?” Brant fumed, incredulous. Suddenly, he shot to his feet, darted around the table, and moved swiftly down from the high platform. He grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head back until she was forced to look at him.
“Even now your beauty is treacherous,” he whispered. Then, louder, he said, “You, Della the Cold-Hearted, are fortunate you still carry my child in your belly lest I be tempted to beat you now for your daring.”
Della shivered at his passionless voice. The onlookers gasped, eagerly spreading the news of her condition. Brant took a deep breath and turned to the main hall. He still held her firmly in his grasp as he led her by her neck. Her feet shuffled through the rushes leaving a trail behind them as they moved, but he did not hurt her.
“Blackwell.” Gunther stood from one of the back tables where he had been sitting quietly with Roldan and a dozen of the men. He slowly moved forward. When he was in whispering distance, he said, “Mayhap you should hear m’lady out.”
Brant glared at his long-time friend. “Nay, I want her locked in her chamber, tied to her bed until she births this child. I want her kept prisoner. I want her forever out of my sight. And then I want her hanged for treason.”
“Blackwell,” Gunther tried again.
“I will be leaving at dawn to ride with King Guthrum. I will be back with the news of my child’s birth,” Brant finished.
“But the king bid you home.” Gunther insisted with a look of warning to lower his tone. “Please, let us retire to chambers where this may be discussed in private.”
“I would rather be on a political campaign for the rest of my life than to live one minute more in this woman’s cold presence,” Brant argued. He ignored his friend’s plea for privacy, beyond caring. “Gunther, I am asking you as my long-time friend. Don’t naysay me now. Not in this.”
Gunther sighed and looked apologetically at Della. She didn’t move, Brant’s grip still on her hair and neck. Gunther said, “Don’t be unreasonable, m’lord.”
“Unreasonable?” Brant let go of Della. “You dare to call me unreasonable when you saw with your own eyes her treachery?”
Della frowned meaningfully at Gunther, bringing her hand protectively to her stomach. The man nodded at her in understanding before saying, “Brant, you are too angry.”
“Blessed Saints!” Brant yelled. “Roldan, see to it!”
Gunther turned to Roldan and nodded. Roldan in turn motioned sternly to the table of soldiers.
“I said see to it, Roldan. You do not need this man’s permission.” Brant waved his arm toward Gunther, his face purpling in his outrage. “Take m’lady to her prison.”
The soldiers stood up and moved cautiously forward. They looked to each other, as if unsure what to do.
“Now,” Gunther yelled. “You have your orders!”
The men sprang forward, grabbing their lord about his waist and tackling him to the rushes. Brant fought their grasp, landing a few good punches to some of the men who were unlucky enough to be close to his fists. But the dozen soldiers were too much for the ealdorman, and they quickly had him subdued under their combined strength.
“Gunther,” Brant shouted in disbelief. “What treachery is this?”
The servants gasped in chaos and more came from the kitchen at the commotion. The men not involved hung back, unsure what to do. None of them were armed. Della lifted her hand to hold any would be rescuers back, thankful that they obeyed.
“Secure his legs,” Gunther ordered, before pointing to the stairwell. “Carry him abovestairs to his chamber.”
“Gunther, I will see you hanged for this betrayal.” Brant yelled viciously. Curses, Saxon and Norse, flew from his lips. The men bound his strong limbs together with rope and hauled his massive body abovestairs as instructed. Brant kicked and hollered profanities the entire way.