Beg For Mercy: The Husband You Humiliated is a king.

Episode 4

A chill settled in the great hall of the House of Peckham as the old lady command sounded.

Her family knew the meaning of her words. The punishment for violating their family's code of honor was very harsh.

After the old lady spoke, Elara was quick to act. She sent a young page to find Arthur.

A short while later, the page returned with a grim look on his face. He bowed his head to the old lady. "Begging your pardon, Grand lady Peckham, but the wretch refused to heed your summon. He said he will not be coming."

Hearing the page words, a collective gasp swept through the hall. "Refused?" the old lady shrieked as her face turn red like the fine velvet cloak she was wearing.

"How dare that animal refuse me! As long as he wears the name of a Peckham, he will obey! Godric! Go and fetch him! Bring him to me now, by force if you must!"

Sir Godric, who had been waiting for an opportunity for a fight, smiled as he cracked his knuckles. "Gladly, Grandmother. This will be a pleasure."

As Godric left, the old lady sat back onto her throne, stroking the little dog in her lap as she spoke.

"I called you all here early for a very important matter," she announced to her family.

Hearing their mother words, Lord Alistair and Lord Aethelred sat up straight, their attention rapt.

The old lady continued, "Our family's most important project, the New Citadel of Northwood, is in dire need of funds. The Brotherhood of the Silver Hand, the powerful guild who controls the mithril and iron trade, has suddenly replaced its entire leadership."

The room suddenly grew tense. The Brotherhood was famously secretive. Whoever controlled them held immense power.

"The new head is Unknown to the public. We must secure a contract with him to continue our work on the Citadel. The one who can forge a relationship with him will receive a great reward. A promotion, and perhaps even a say in the final inheritance of this House."

The brothers almost jumped to their feet, both vying for the task.

"Mother, this is my chance!" Lord Alistair pleaded. "I have always handled these things. I will find this new man and secure the contract!"

"On what grounds?" Lord Aethelred scoffed. "My son and I are far better suited for this. We will ride to the city and find this man. The reward belongs to me and my son!"

"Enough!" the old lady's voice boomed. "I am holding a grand feast in the other big hall today! There will be important lords and powerful merchants present. Both of you should mingle with the guests and see who can find the most information about this new leader. The one who brings back the best news will get to lead the negotiations!"

"Yes, Mother!" the brothers chorused, their eyes glinting with ambition.

Meanwhile, Sir Godric rode his stallion from the Peckham manor, a journey that took him from the manicured lawns of the wealthy to the grimy heart of the village.

The air, which had been clean and crisp on the hill, grew thick with the smell of coal smoke and unwashed bodies.

He rode past crooked timber-framed houses, their roofs thatched with brown, rotting straw, a stark contrast to the grand stone keeps of the lords.

To him, this journey was a leisurely one, for he had no particular desire to rush.

He stopped at a common well where a few village women were drawing water.

A pretty lass with a flash of green ribbon in her hair caught his eye.

He dismounted from his horse, flashing a charming smile that made her blush. "Begging your pardon, my sweet, but a thirsty rider asks if you might share a drink from your pail?" he said, his voice a smooth purr.

The young woman giggled, her cheeks turning crimson. "Oh, a nobleman speaks to me!" she whispered to her friends as she dipped her bucket and offered it to him.

Godric took a long, exaggerated gulp, his eyes never leaving her face. "Ah, that is the finest water I've ever tasted," he said, handing the bucket back.

He then reached into the inner pocket of his finely tailored tunic and took out a small piece of vellum parchment. He scribbled a few words on it with a charcoal stick before handing it to her. "I have somewhere to be, but you can find me at this address." He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his gloved fingers lingering for a moment, then he stepped away and mounted his horse, a wide, smug grin on his face as the girls whispered and giggled behind him.

As he rode, he found the square bustling with merchants, and the noise was deafening. He stopped his stallion in the middle of the market, causing a stir among the common folk who had to scatter out of his way.

A woman selling fine embroidery caught his eye this time. He rode closer, his horse's hooves scattering dust on her wares. She looked up at him with a frown, but his smile was infectious. He leaned down from his saddle, his voice a low conspiratorial tone. "Your work is beautiful, my lady," he said, gesturing to her embroidered tapestries. "But tell me, how can one such as you find time for beauty when all the men here are as dull as your needles?"

She gave him a hesitant smile, not quite sure how to take the nobleman's compliments.

He saw her uninterested look and simply laughed, tossing a small silver coin onto her table before dismounting.

He was about to sit on the bench next to her when his eyes landed on a figure beneath the shade of a gnarled old oak tree.

It was Arthur.

He froze. His mind, which had been set on a bit of a flirting, suddenly snapped back to the reason he was here.

He looked down at the woman, a sneer replacing his charming smile. "Some other time," he muttered, remounting his horse and leaving her staring after him, confused..

He rode his horse over to Arthur, looking down at him with a sneer.

"Well, well, well," he sneered. "If it isn't the gormless farmhand. My grandmother has a message for you. Get on my horse and come back to the house. She wants to see you."

Arthur straightened up, wiping his hands on his tunic. "I am in no mood to see anyone in that house, especially your grandmother. I told her page I would not be coming."

Sir Godric laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Oh, I know what you told him. Your wife, Elara, has told us everything. I must admit, I never would have thought you had the gall to be so bold. To find another woman when your wife is the fairest maid in the land..."

Arthur's face, already grim, darkened. "What do you mean, you know everything?" he said, his voice dangerously low. "Did Elara... did she tell you the truth?"

Godric chuckled, mistaking Arthur's shock for shame. "Oh, yes. She told us everything. She was weeping in her despair over your betrayal. I'll admit, I'm with you on this one, though. Why would she act so chaste and lofty? A pretty face is just a pretty face if it’s never been kissed by a husband’s hand! Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Arthur stood there, stunned. He had thought that perhaps Elara had felt shame, guilt even, for her betrayal. But to hear she had turned it all around and blamed him for her own actions...

Dammit! He had never met such a shameless woman in his life.