“In my own recognisance, not sold, you shall serve me until you repent,” I averred rashly, “Now what say you?”
“I should rather die!” she replied. xxx sex “Yes ‘Lordship,” she said. She slipped from the bed and I followed her as she cleaned herself with a towel. “You are the bastard son of the Reverend Hywell Thomas,” she sniggered, “The monk the sodomite!” she added, “You have no right to judge me!”
“My lord!” the clerk said, “Shall I have her whipped?”
“No, not yet,” I cautioned, “Say your fill wench, out with it for you’ll be listened to little enough in the antipodes.”
“Indeed I shall,” she said, “Mama says your father is my father, we are brother and sister, now what say you!” she said, “I am half noble and you have no jurisdiction over me!”
“I am the bastard son of the Reverend Hywell Thomas,” I admitted, “My title devolves through my mother, we are not brother and sister wench, and half noble you may be but save for hanging and transportation I may still punish you for your misdeeds.”
There was a gasp from the assembled throng, “Yes it is true,” I admitted, “But Sodomite I am not!”
I saw they believed not a single word I uttered in my defence. I felt the great weight of the chain of office around my neck while my richly embroidered if ill fitting robes kept out the
