The Bride Sale Read Free

else—were crossed over his broad chest.
    â€œHow ’bout it, Big Will?” Moody said as several men pushed the huge man forward. “Wot else yer gonna spend yer blunt on? Here be a nice, soft female jus’ waitin’ fer yer tender touch.”
    The blacksmith glared slack-jawed at the young woman, who kept her eyes averted. Big Will Sykes had lived in Gunnisloe his entire life and had always been a competent blacksmith. But his size, his general lack of intellect, and his peculiar notions of personal hygiene had made him the butt of local jokes for years. The women teased him from afar, but none would go near him.
    â€œWot says ’ee, Will?” old Moody cajoled. “A woman of yer own at last. A real lady, too.”
    Big Will licked his lips and James felt a momentary tightening of his stomach. Did he pity the woman? Did he care? No. He did not. It was none of his concern what happened to her. It was none of his concern if the young husband happened to be a cad of the first degree, who allowed his wife to be ogled by that great slobbering animal, and who was ready to toss away his responsibilities to the highest bidder. Was James so confident of his own sense of honor? Did he honestly believe that he was himself incapable of such perfidy?
    What a foolish notion, when he was in fact guilty of much more.
    Urged on by the other men, Big Will edged closer to the plinth.
    â€œShe be yers fer twen’y pounds,” Moody said. “A bargain she be, too. God knows ’ee won’t never do no better.”
    â€œThat be a lotta money,” Big Will said, shaking his large head slowly side to side.
    â€œAh, but not fer the likes of ’ee, Will,” Moody replied. “Got plen’y of the ready stashed away, ’ee does. Make decent money at forge. And all the district knows ’ee ain’t spent a ha’penny in years. Besides, look at her, man. Look at her!”
    Big Will continued to stare while the women in the crowd snickered and began beating their tin kettles once again. “Will! Will! Will!” the men shouted in time to the banging kettles. Will turned to the crowd and grinned, obviously pleased at being the center of attention.
    â€œWill! Will! Will!”
    The square throbbed with the hellish din until James could feel it through the soles of his boots.
    â€œWill! Will! Will!”
    With each shout and clang of kettles, the crowd surged forward slightly, closing in on the plinth.More revelers entered the square and James was jostled from behind. He had to scramble to keep his balance as the mob continued to push, push, push ahead in rhythm with the pounding of kettles and the pulse of a hundred chanting voices.
    â€œWill! Will! Will!”
    The big man nodded at last and turned to the auctioneer. Old Moody held up his hand for silence, and the kettle banging gradually ceased.
    â€œAw right,” Will said in his thick, toneless voice. He continued to leer at the woman who stood as still as Lot’s wife. She had not raised her head once during all the commotion. “Twen’y quid, then.”
    Cheers and laughter rose from the crowd, and were soon drowned out by more kettle banging. James looked around him, astonished that these people, many of whom he’d known his entire life, were so eager to see this unknown, unsuspecting young woman thrust into the filthy, beefy arms of Will Sykes. They were going to let it happen; in fact, they were encouraging it to happen with no little enthusiasm.
    James’s glance darted between the woman and her husband. She stood ramrod straight against the rising wind, her head still bent down. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, their trembling the only outward sign of her anguish. Rarely had James witnessed such courage, even on the battlefields of Spain. And the wretched husband was going to let this thing happen. The young fool made no move to stop it.
    It took Jud Moody some minutes to