“Papa!” he demanded. “What is happening?”
William crouched down next to his son’s head, dipping low so he could look the man in the eye.
“Punishment,” he said simply. “Troy, Paris must have his satisfaction for what you have done. I know that you love Helene, and that she loves you, but she is now unwed and pregnant. If that happened to one of your sisters, I cannot say my attitude would not be the same as Paris’. The offender must be punished.”
Troy had no idea what his father meant as far as punishment. Not that he exactly disagreed with the fact that he had punishment coming his way, because he understood that what he did was frowned upon. He understood that, in a sense, he had violated Paris’ trust and had essentially shamed both families. All of that, he understood. But what he didn’t understand was what was happening at this very moment.
Something told him this wasn’t going to be good.
“What is Uncle Paris planning?” he asked, grunting because he was still straining against those who held him down. “And who are these men, Papa? Will you not help your son?”
William sighed heavily. “You took liberties,” he said. “Now you must pay the price. Paris’ price.”
“What in the hell does that mean?”
A shadow fell over him and, abruptly, there was a naked arse on his head. Troy knew immediately what was happening.
“God!” he groaned, trying to turn his head so butt cheeks wouldn’t be on his face. “Not this! Papa, nay!”
William stepped away as Kieran planted his big, taut arse right on Troy’s head. He could hear his son howl and it was an effort not to laugh. He felt so badly for him but, on the other hand, it was probably less than he deserved. Looking at the soldiers pinning Troy down, and there were eight of them, they were all grinning. They thought it was hilarious. And it was.
For everyone but Troy.
As Kieran began to wriggle his buttocks, grinding them into Troy’s head, William noticed that Paris had disappeared. As he was wondering where in the hell the man went, he suddenly reappeared, carrying something with him. He had an object in each hand. As William watched with curiosity, Paris went to the fresh water barrel and dunked the object in his left hand.
“Kieran,” Paris said. “Get off. I have something I must do.”
Kieran stood up, pulling up his breeches, as Paris knelt down beside Troy’s head. He bent over so he could look the young man in the eyes.
He was much calmer than he had been when he’d first entered the bailey. He looked into the face of the man he’d known since the day he was born, a man who was named for him, in fact. Troy was the strong but sensitive child who had grown into a strong but sensitive man.
Sensitive and reckless.
He smacked Troy on the head.
“That is for doing something to my daughter you should not have done,” he said as Troy winced. “And the rest… well, this is so you will never forget my wrath. Let your punishment be a testament to any more de Wolfe or even Hage lads who get it into their heads that they want to treat my daughters with any less respect. The next time your brother, Scott, eyes my Athena in an amorous way, you will remind him of what happened to you when you showed no restraint with her sister.”
With that, he pulled out the object he had dunked in the water. It turned out to be a lumpy bar of soap and he rubbed it into Troy’s hair on the right side of his head. Troy turned away, trying to avoid it, so Paris ended up lathering one side and the back of the man’s head.
Then, he pulled out the object that had been in his right hand. It was a razor. As Troy yowled angrily, Paris proceeded to shave the back of the man’s curly, rather long hair. Because Troy was moving around so much, he ended up shaving about half of the right side of his head, too, and then part of the left. Troy ended up with a big patch of uneven, unshaved scalp on the top of his head. When Paris was finished, it was all William could do not to burst out laughing at his son’s humiliation.
It was absolutely hysterical.
“May I?” Kieran asked Paris, indicating their victim.
Paris nodded. “By my guest.”
As Troy begged for mercy, Kieran resumed the Helm of Shame, now on Troy’s freshly shaved scalp. He went so far as to fart on the back of Troy’s head and William lost his composure completely. He laughed until he wept, turning away from Troy so the man wouldn’t see him. Paris, too, could no longer hold back the laughter, especially when Kieran farted a second time and Troy started gagging. It was horrible and humiliating and hilarious. The soldiers on Troy’s back weren’t as discreet as the knights were; their laughter was long and loud.
After about an hour of sitting on Troy’s head and eking out a series of farts, Kieran finally stood up and pulled up his breeches. Paris called off the soldiers, who left the stable as Troy, humiliated to the bone, was finally allowed to sit up. As the man ran his hand over his newly shaved scalp to see just how much damage there was, Paris went to stand in front of him.
“Do you have something to say to me?” he asked.
Troy was furious and ashamed. “Like what?”
“An apology, mayhap?”
Troy lurched to his feet, standing in front of Paris in an angry stance. William and Kieran were watching closely, hoping Troy didn’t ruin all of this by trying to punch Paris in the face. But admirably, he kept his fists at his sides.
“An apology for what?” he finally said. “For loving Helene? I have loved her for as long as I can recall and I will never apologize for that. She is the embodiment of all that is pure and beautiful in this world, and with every breath she takes, I am reminded anew of what a fortunate man I am that she loves me in return. I am not nearly good enough for her and I know that, but I will swear to you that I will love her until the end of my life and beyond. And you want me to apologize for that? I won’t. You can take out your sword and cut me if you wish, and punish me for demonstrating that Helene is my all for living, but I will not apologize for loving her. Not ever.”
By the time he was finished, Paris was looking at him with a great deal of emotion. His speech had been beautiful and succinct, if not a bit angry.
“Oh… lad,” he said softly. “That was magnificently put. You make me sorry that I… well, not entirely sorry. You deserved it. But I hope you weren’t injured in all of this.”
Troy was still furious, but Paris’ show of concern had him unsteady. “Nay,” he said, rubbing his wrist, which was sore but not broken. “I am uninjured. But my hair is in ruins and I do not know if I shall ever recover from Uncle Kieran farting on my head.”
Paris couldn’t help but laugh. “Your hair will grow back,” he said. “And you have endured the Helm of Shame with honor. You took your punishment like a man.”
“Like a de Wolfe.”
“Indeed. And the sooner you marry my daughter, the better.”
Troy lost his anger at that moment. “Do you mean it?”
“I do,” he said. “She is at Northwood. If you wish to retrieve her and bring her back here, we can have the wedding here at Castle Questing.”
“Now?”
Paris nodded, looking at William. “Are you agreeable?”
William was smiling. “I am,” he said. “Troy, ride to Northwood. Retrieve your bride, but bring all of Northwood with you. Leave no one behind. I will go tell your mother that we are to have a wedding when you return.”