Paris’ head snapped up, his blue eyes narrowing. “And just what would you do if one of your daughters became pregnant without the benefit of a marriage bed?”
Kieran shrugged. “I would not try to kill the son of my best friend,” he said. “Paris, you are angry for the wrong reasons. And given your past, I would think you would have some understanding when it comes to unrestrained young men.”
More cracks were appearing in Paris’ determination. “I know this cannot go unanswered, Kieran,” he said. “Troy bedded my fragile flower, my Helene. What in the hell would you suggest I do about it?”
“No daughter of Caladora Scott is a fragile flower,” Kieran said. “Did she come to you crying and carrying on that her virtue had been stolen?”
Paris frowned. “Of course not.”
“Did she beg you to avenge her?”
“She begged me not to.”
Kieran’s eyebrows lifted. “And still, you are here?” he said, incredulous. “Do you know what I think? I think you are doing what you think you should do. I think you are doing what all of those angry fathers did when you compromised their daughters. You know nothing else, so that is how you are behaving. Because it happened to you. The difference is that you ran from these fathers – do not deny it for I know it to be true. William and I helped you fight your way out of at least two instances that I can recall. And still, you want to kill Troy? Of course you don’t. I do not truly believe that. If you try, it is going to ruin your relationship with William.”
“Then he should have raised his son better.”
“What if the situation were reversed and it was William at Northwood, wanting to run Hector through?” Kiera fired back softly. “What would you say to William for wanting to kill your son for this same offense?”
The cracks in Paris’ determination were starting to join up, weakening everything about him. “I would understand, of course.”
“Would you let him kill your son?”
Paris didn’t answer for several long moments. “I would not,” he finally said. “But I would be…”
Kieran cut him off. “Is your pride worth the high price this is going to cost you, Paris?”
Kieran was hammering it home as only Kieran could. Paris was starting to calm a little, realizing that he was on the precipice of something he didn’t want to topple from.
Was his pride worth William’s friendship?
Pride, with him, had always been his problem. But in this case, he was going to have to swallow it or risk everything.
But he wasn’t sure he could. He’d never had to. Paris had never believed himself to be wrong, under any circumstances, but much of what Kiernan said was true. He was here to fight Troy because he believed it was expected of him. There was a sense of family honor at stake. He was mad enough to kill, but truly mad enough to kill Troy? Nay, he wasn’t. The reality was that he wasn’t.
Damn Kieran for forcing him to face that very truth.
Bless Kieran for forcing him to face that very truth.
“It is not worth losing William,” he finally said. “But Troy must be punished. Mayhap it is foolish to think that family honor is at stake here, but it is, Kieran. I cannot let this go unanswered.”
Kieran was saying a silent prayer that the man was seeing reason. In fact, he was more relieved than he cared to admit. “I know,” he said. “And he should be punished. But this is not worth his life, Paris. He is a good man and he loves your daughter. Would you really try to kill him over this?”
Paris sighed heavily. Kieran had a way of defusing a situation and making one see reason. “Nay,” he said reluctantly. “I… I would not kill him, in any case. But I am furious enough to beat the humors out of him and then some.”
Kieran held up a finger as if an idea occurred to him. “He’s young and strong,” he said. “And he would fight back, so you would risk injury if you tried. Therefore, your punishment must be creative.”
“What do you mean?”
A glimmer of deviousness flickered in Kieran’s dark eyes. “Sometimes, humiliation is far worse than death. It is just as permanent but doesn’t leave a mark. At least, not physically.”
Paris was listening, but he didn’t understand what Kieran was suggesting. “What do you mean?”
“Remember the Helm of Shame?”
Paris’ eyes widened. “Of course I do.”
“Would you say that is something a man would consider adequate punishment?”
“God’s Bones, it is. More than adequate.”
“Something he would be unwilling to tell his friends or brothers and suffer silently?”
Paris nodded firmly. “Indeed,” he said. “What do you have in mind?”
Kieran held up both hands. “Stay here,” he said. “Please… just stay here. Do not move, do not advance on Troy. I shall return.”
Paris watched the man run off towards the keep. He wondered what Kieran, a man with a truly devious mind when it came to dirty tricks, was up to.
He would soon find out.
The Helm of Shame was one of those brilliant, nasty tricks used for punishment on lazy knights. They all knew of it, every last one of them, because it was legendary. It had all started a few years ago at a battle near Whiteadder Water when someone cut the garter off the mail of Kieran’s left leg during the heat of battle. The mail slid down and took his breeches with it, and suddenly, Kieran was fighting with his bare arse exposed.
Once the fighting stopped, Kieran was so angry at the rebelling Scots that he refused to pull up his breeches. He left his backside hanging out and made it all the way back to the encampment that way. But it didn’t end there; he went to the Scots prisoners and made them all look at his bare buttocks to punish them for their insurrection.
And so, came the Helm of Shame.
As Kieran was walking around, holding up his breeches in the front so his manhood was covered, he came across a knight from Northwood Castle. The young knight was named Corin de Fortlage and he had pulled out of the battle early, pleading exhaustion. Kieran was so angry at Corin that he pushed the man to the ground and sat on his head with his bare buttocks. He called it the Helm of Shame and told Corin if he ever left the field of battle early again, he would punish him with the Helm of Shame. It had been particularly ghastly for Corin because of the way he’d fallen on the ground – when Kieran squatted on him, from the angle of his head, the man’s testicles were right by Corin’s nose.
Corin was always the last man to leave the field of battle after that.
The Helm of Shame was legendary amongst the de Wolfe armies and it was something that Kieran had done more than once. If a young knight displeased him, they were threatened with the Helm of Shame. No one else could do it better than Kieran and the older knights began using it as a threat to the younger knights or misbehaving squires. William, Paris, and Kieran had even used it on their own sons to keep them from being naughty.
Paris didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.
It was the perfect way to punish Troy.
And he was going to use it.
Unfortunately, Kieran had a time pulling William out into the bailey again. William had remained stubbornly in his solar until Kieran managed to coax him out with the inference that Paris wanted to apologize. Still frustrated and hurt, William came back out into the bailey, walking past Troy and Scott and Patrick, who were still in full armor. Young knights, still ready to fight for their cause.