Painted Blade || sihtric

58.

   QUIET winces filled Bemia's bedroom the next day as she sat on a chair with her back bare, allowing Eadith to carefully clean the gashes that had been an unbearable pain during the night.

"I've never seen such whip lashes before," Eadith confessed, dabbing a cloth on a deep cut. "Or scars."

Bemia held the chair tighter, her knuckles turning white. "Yes, well, you are lucky you've never received such punishment before," she gritted out, followed by a small apology for her tone. "As you may have guessed, this isn't my first whipping."

"I, uh...Yes, I guess that." Eadith placed the cloth in a bucket, satisfied that the gashes were clean enough. "Does the King know what has happened?"

"The King does," Bemia mumbled, pulling her undergarment back on with some help from Eadith. "But I highly doubt he'll punish the man responsible." She fixed her green tunic before slowly standing up, holding back another wince. "I have some silver—"

"No," Eadith quickly cut her off, sending her a firm look as Bemia raised a brow. "I will not accept silver—not after all you have done for me."

Bemia snorted, picking up her black cloak. "I'm afraid I do not like it when I've left someone unpaid," she confessed, slipping her hand into the pocket of her cloak. When she felt the cold metal against her palm, she smiled and then placed two silvers on the table. "Take it, please. Buy yourself something."

Before Eadith could decline, Young Uhtred stormed into the Inn.

Bemia sucked on her teeth, pulling the cloak over her shoulders while watching her nephew who stopped beside Eadith. "You've heard of your father's baptism?" she guessed.

Young Uhtred's tired huff was his answer.

Eadith slightly cringed, focusing back on Bemia. "I shall take Katja to play with Aethelstan and Aelfwynn to give you some privacy," she offered, taking the silver coins and Bemia sent her a thankful smile.

No words were shared as Bemia kissed her daughter goodbye. And then when the door closed behind Eadith and Katja, Young Uhtred plopped himself down into a chair.

"I thought you would be happy to see your father baptized," Bemia murmured, pushing a bowl of bread toward him.

Young Uhtred ignored the offering, staring at the table with a troubled look on his pale face. "I would, if I believed he was sincere in accepting God into his heart."

Bemia sighed, sitting down across from him when he finally looked up at her. "Do you worry if every child baptized is sincere in accepting God into their heart?"

He lightly scoffed. "I'm confident few of them are using it to lay claim to a throne."

"You underestimate your father, boy," she gently said, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand. "Your father was born Saxon—a Christian boy. I believe that if he was never brought into my family, then perhaps, he would still be Christian." She let go of his hand, standing up. "But if that were the case, then you and your siblings would never have been blessed to join this earth," she finished, cocking her head toward the door. "Will you join me to watch?"

Young Uhtred exhaled deeply, standing up. "I don't wish to witness this, but I also don't wish to leave you on your own after yesterday."

Bemia clicked her tongue, walking out of the Inn with him and into the quiet street. "I promise you; no one will ever harm me like that again," she promised, nudging his side with her elbow as they walked toward the palace with the sun above them. "You must worry about yourself before me."

"But you always worry about everyone else before yourself, Aunty," Young Uhtred quietly said. "I believe that is why I am still alive—why many of us are."