Troy protested at first, but gradually just stood there, exasperated, as his father and uncle stripped him down to a tunic and breeches. He was puzzled at what they were doing, but he suspected that he was in for a tongue lashing from Paris and they didn’t want him armed. He was willing to accept that in lieu of a physical fight.
But he had no idea what was coming.
He soon would.
His first clue that something was out of the ordinary was when he was hit from behind. He’d been standing with his back to the stable door, but that had been intentional. Bodies with many arms and legs slammed into him and he went down, face-first, into the dirt of the stable. He tried to fight, but he’d fallen on his arms and because he’d instinctively put his hands out to brace himself for the fall, he was fairly certain he’d broken a wrist.
There were a lot of men piled on top of him.
Troy could hardly move, but he was giving it his best. He could move his head because he was only pinned from the shoulders down. He caught a glimpse of his father’s boots a few feet away.
“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
