BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) JANE ADAMS (fox in socks read aloud TXT) 📖

chooses this path, then I will not disclaim his right, but I do believe that the good Lord will find him guilty as my heart knows him to be.”

“You must not pre-judge,” Kendryk told him gently. “Eldred, this is now taken from your hands. Have your oath helpers step forward and name themselves and then declare their oaths and may the Lord ensure that they believe in their hearts what they swear with their lips.”

Treven was aware of the ripple of anxiety that passed through those gathered. This was no small thing that Eldred asked them to do. A man’s oath was made not just with the mouth but with the heart and soul and if a man should make a false declaration . . . Treven felt his belly grow cold at the thought of it. He looked again at Hugh, so calm and so composed and could scarcely believe that his friend was about to make just such a false declaration before both man and God. How could he hope to survive? A small part of Treven’s consciousness asked if this could ever be a true testing. Wasn’t it more a matter of will and fitness and strength than purity of soul or of intent? But Treven had seen younger, stronger men than Hugh die when their wounds festered. Men who had declared their innocence yet who had confessed as they died that the accusations against them had been true.

He turned his attention back to the dozen men lined up beside Eldred preparing for the forathe. “If any should have doubt, however small, or simply be in ignorance, then let none hinder his leaving and none later question his intent,” he said softly. “It is better to depart now, an honest man, than to swear false out of loyalty or misjudgement. Look now into your hearts and listen to what they tell you. Is your kinsman innocent? Can you truly swear to this?”

Though there were uneasy glances and foot shuffling, no one moved. In truth, Treven had expected nothing else. Eldred would only have chosen those men filled with conviction of his righteousness. “Then let the first step forward and so swear,” Treven commanded.

Somewhat to his surprise, Edmund moved from the end of the row and came to stand beside his brother facing Treven.

Eldred took a deep breath. “By the lord I do swear that I am guiltless of either deed or instigation of this crime. I neither killed my wife nor wished another to do so. I am innocent of the charge brought against me.”

“And I do swear by the Lord that this oath is pure and that Eldred is not false in the swearing of it. I, Edmund Scrivener, do assert and attest this.”

Edmund stepped back with a fierce look cast in Treven’s direction, pride in his eyes and his mouth set in a tight line. The next strode forward to take his place and Treven did not move or blink as the athas were one by one sworn by the oath helpers. Only when the Compurgation was over and Eldred stood before him a man declared innocent of all crime, did Treven turn slowly to face his comrade in arms.

He had been dreading this moment and was almost selfishly glad that the administration of the ordeal was a matter for churchman and not Thegn.

“Hugh. How do you plead?”

“As I have always done. I swear by the Almighty that I did not by word or deed cause the death of Cate Scrivener, neither did I wish her death. I swear my innocence and, by God’s will, I will prove it now.”

It seemed to Treven that the speaking of the oath had unfrozen him. The rigidity vanished from his limbs and the pallor of his skin was replaced by a rush of blood. Hugh’s cheeks burned and his eyes brightened as though with fever. Treven almost moved to stop what would happen next. He must have taken a step because Osric lay a hand upon his arm. Kendryk’s stern look brooked no argument and reminded him that this was no longer his concern.

“Let the matter commence,” Treven managed, his voice raven- harsh. He nodded to the smith that they were ready and forced himself to watch as Hugh stepped forward.

Treven had never had reason to doubt Hugh’s courage, but the exercise of that courage had always before been in battle. If you know that you will kill or be killed, then choices are limited and often men not cut from warrior cloth will perform great deeds simply because they must. But this was different. This was unlike anything Treven had seen in battle and, though he had seen such ordeals three or four times in his life before, he still had no stomach for this deliberate wounding, so cold and so contrived.

With long tongs, the smith drew the iron bar he had heated from the flames. In the cold light it glowed with such fierce redness it was almost painful to look at. Two of Kendryk’s men had taken position either side of Hugh. Should he change his mind and try to run, they would be there to see this trial went ahead.

“You have one last chance to tell your guilt,” Kendryk informed him. “Plea now and we will hear you fairly and judge you according to your words.”

“I have made my plea,” Hugh told him angrily. He drew a deep breath and stepped forward, taking the glowing metal from the tongs with his own bare hand.

Treven gasped as Hugh’s hand closed about it. It was clear from the fierce contortion of Hugh’s face that he had not, even in his wildest imaginings, been prepared for such pain as the red-hot brand welded itself to his palm and fingers, the heat constricting the tendons and tightening his grip against the bar. The stink of burning flesh, born on the clear cold