THIRTY-FIVE
The roaring in Guinevere's ears only made her head pound all the more. Her arms hurt, too, and she could scarcely feel her hands. She'd expected cold, metal manacles, but instead rough rope wrapped around her wrists, dragging her arms high above her head so that her slippered toes only just touched the stone floor.
She wanted to shout to Melwas that he would regret this, but the gag in her mouth turned her words into a garbled mess.
Someone grabbed her hair, pulling hard.
"Here she is! The traitor who seduced and killed your king. What would you have me do with her?"
"Burn her!"
"Hang her!"
"Flay the flesh from her bones!"
"Put out her eyes!"
"Cut off her head!"
"A week in the stocks, n***d!"
"Burn the b***h!"
She could not shut out the voices, for there were to
