The Falconer's Daughter, Book 1

Chapter 3 - Part 2

She had thrown another book at Mr. Pole after he refused to let her participate in the day's lessons. He said she wasn't prepared. She knew she was. "What did I do wrong?" she demanded, furious that he would single her out again.

"You don't know your Greek letters," he answered.

"But you haven't taught me Greek," she replied.

"And so you aren't ready to learn. Go work on your letters by the window, sit with Mrs. Penny and Eddie." That's when she had picked up her book and thrown it at him, again hitting him squarely on the head. Mr. Pole sent Mrs. Penny to the Earl and now she had to go face her uncle in the solar.

"Why?" Was all the Earl of Derby said when she walked in.

Cordaella swallowed. "He calls me a bastard. He won't let me learn with the others. It isn't fair," she said, her voice falling to a whisper.

"And so you dare to strike him, a man? A scholar?"

"But he is rude. He says cruel things to me."

The Earl lifted the switch. "Lie across the stool," he said emotionlessly, as if eager to return to his maps and papers. Tears started to her eyes. "I will apologize," she said hastily.

"Of course you will. After I give you ten. I will even let you count them for me. Practice for your numbers," he added, waiting for her to take her position on the stool. Reluctantly she crossed the floor and knelt next to the low stool. "Pull up your skirts, but leave the chemise down. We don't need any cuts or infection."

Her lower lip trembled as she leaned across the stool, her skirts pulled over her back. She could feel the Earl lift them higher. "You may begin counting now," he said bringing the switch down on her back, the thin strip of leather whistling as it swung through the air.

"One," she said, wincing. The switch fell again. "Two." The tears trickled from her lashes to her cheeks and she squeezed her eyes tight as the switch came down for a third blow. She counted every blow just as he had told her, her back and fanny blistering hot, her stomach so sick she was sure she would be ill right there in the solar.

"Now go apologize. Immediately." He stood back and after setting the switch back on the table, wiped the perspiration from his hand. "Next time you will earn yourself twenty. You can count that high, can't you, Cordaella?"

She could see why Philip hated him so much. How dare he treat her this way? But she hid her anger and resentment. "Yes, my lord," she whispered.

"Good day, Cordaella."

"Good day," she said, clenching her jaw to still the angry retort, "my lord."

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After leaving his lordship behind, Philip led Cordaella through the cold, damp tunnel below the castle, the space so narrow that they could only walk single file. It was dark in the tunnel and trickles of moisture seeped through the stones. If it weren't for Philip's candle, she would have tripped a dozen times. At last they came to a small door in the smooth wall and Philip pushed it open. He pulled himself up over the ledge and then helped Cordaella crawl out.

She sucked in the clean fresh air. "Where are we?"

"Take a look around."

She turned slowly about, gazing at the mossy trunks and pale green ferns growing at the foot of the trees. "Why, we're outside Peveril!" She ran her fingers lightly across the soft moss on one tree trunk, the texture something between goose's down and cook's best custard.

"Yes," he said, grinning. "Past the walls and gate without a problem. What would the guards think?"

"I think your father would have a fit."