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The camp was abuzz with men who sat and prepared their traveling gear for the morn while speaking in low tones among themselves of their thoughts and dreams as well as the wish for thier homes. He nodded and understood thier longings as he himself had felt the pangs on occasion of wanting what had been his once not so long ago in terms of a wife, a home and all that it entailed. But for him, and others like him, it was not to be.

Fires burned like the stars in the heavens along the ground throughout the camp; Grayson headed towards a massive bonfire that had been set before two trees and lit up the area brilliantly. He slowly chuckled to himself as he spotted the lone figure strapped upright between the trees. Pausing, he looked over the man who stared at him stonily, then turned away smirking.

Methos stared at him as he watched him approach and stand before him, his eyes glittering like dark green stones in the light while his face and body was bathed in the orange red colors of the fire. He waited knowing full well of what was to come and that for the time being, there was nothing he could do about what was to happen. "Did you come to apologize, Grayson?"

Grayson refused to be needled as he looked at the man before him. "I don't think so. Seems you are in a bit of a quandry. I hold your life in my hands--" He withdrew his sword and turned it about in the light so that the light caught upon the blade and reflected itself. "Or, for that matter, my sword." He looked at his prisoner. "Personally, I think you're getting off way too lightly. Your head would be mine, if it had been me who had given the orders."

Sighing, he came closer until the tip of the sword pricked and drew blood at the base of Methos' neck. "But unfortunately, it's not up to me. I have to follow orders as much as any man here." He glanced over at a couple of men then twitched his head to one side.

Methos began to laugh loudly with true mirth, then became coldly threatening. "You don't know who you're dealing with, do you? You haven't a clue. Didn't your parents ever teach you respect?"

A swiftly swung backhand caught Methos squarely across the face, causing a small trickle of blood to leak out of his nose and brought tears to his eyes. He began to struggle as the two men Grayson had silently ordered to him stripped him of all his clothes.

"You're in no position to say anything. I know who and what I'm dealing with. And I will deal with you now!"

Methos now shivered in the cool night air as it met his now bare skin. "Will you? And what about later? Maybe I will deal with you."

Grayson scowled, then turned his back and nodded at a massive man with hair that hung to his waist. "Start at the front and work backwards."

Methos closed his eyes in anticipation of the first licks of the leather as he wrapped more of the thongs which held him upright about his wrists. He wasn't about to cry out so that Grayson could hear his suffering nor would he beg for mercy. "Give me strength," he told himself. "Give me courage."

The snap of leather made him involuntarily flinch; he opened his eyes a crack to see the man unraveling a long length of leather whose ends had been split and plaited. Another snap was heard and seen by him as the whip was tested.

Without warning, the leather's ends came flying at him and striped his skin open. Immediatly the blood began welling from the gash as once more the leatehr bit into him causing him to bite his lower lip to suppress his outburst of pain. He leaned his head back and tried to concentrate on the overhead branches in an effort to block out the pain as repeatedly he was struck.

Tears welled from his clenched eyes and he was soon left gasping from the continuous onslaught. His chest was a mass of blood that was quickly drying as his body repaired itself and wounds that snaked across his arms, shoulders and neck.

Another snap of the whip caught him right across his face as the blood poured forth. He cried out despite himself and opened his eyes to look at the one who was inflicting the pain. He was startled to see Grayson standing with whip in hand, recoiling it for another blow.

"It's good to see that you're still among the living," Grayson said when he noticed the prisoner looking at him. "But don't worry, you won't be for long."

"Easy for you to say, Grayson but harder than you realize to do," Methos rasped out in a voice choked with pain. "I've lived this long and plan to live a lot longer. If I die, it'll be my choice to die at the time I choose to."

In response, Grayson flicked the whip so that the ends contacted his groin and upper leg area causing Methos to scream out. "We can see about that! Your life is in my father's hands; you will live or die at his behest."

Panting now, Methos wished that there was a way out from his bonds so that he could curl up and protect himself. Better yet, to take Grayson's head. He knew it was useless to think of it especially now; he tried to think of other things as the blows rained down on him furiously but found that the pain overrode any other thoughts.

He soon fainted from the pain and Grayson handed the whip back. He walked over to Methos, pulled his head up roughly by the hair and slapped him hard. "We're not done yet. Wake up!"

Methos groaned as his eyelids fluttered then he became instantly aware of where and what was happening to him. He intensely stared at Grayson with all the hatred he could muster. "I'd be very careful if I were you."

Grayson slapped him again the other direction, then back. "Be quiet!" He turned, throwing a thumb in Methos' direction. "Continue; do his back area and all there until there is nothing left to strike that hasn't been hit before. When you get done with that--" he paused for effect as he looked directly into Methos' eyes. "--do it again from the beginning."

"It will kill him, lord!" the man began to protest.

Grayson's face turned dark. "Do it as my father wishes! If you can't, then I will find someone who will--and you will take the prisoner's place. Do you understand?"

The man lowered his head in assent, then began to ready himself for the next blow.

Turning towards Methos he said, as he smiled, "Besides, his kind are hard to kill."

"And we never forget, do we Grayson? We never forget!" Methos sneered at him.

Another bite of the leather hit him; he began to scream in agony all over again as Grayson walked away towards his father's tent, laughing at the sounds which came from behind him. "Never do we forget." He became somber then repeated, "Never!"