Lars dropped down, babbling a confused apology. “Proctor Janus, I did not mean to...”
The Proctor said implacably, “Your girdle, if you please, young Master.”
Gunnar decided it was high time he intervened. “Why not let the lad go about his business? There was no harm done.” Janus ignored him.
Lars fumbled with the wide leather belt he wore, and handed it back to the Proctor. As soon as he did so, the back of his shirt gaped wide. Before Gunnar could react, the strap whistled down and left a brutal red welt on the boy’s shoulder blades. He gave a strangled cry of pain. A second blow would have followed, but Gunnar caught the Proctor’s wrist and held it, none too gently.
“That is enough,” he growled, and nudged Lars with his foot. “Get going, lad. He is finished.”
Lars looked back at th
