A Queen's Knight: A Medieval Military Historical Fiction Novel (Mercenary For Hire Book 4) by Burnell Sam

Author:Burnell, Sam [Burnell, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

†

“Where are you taking him?” Lizbet shrieked, hanging onto Richard’s arm when two men came to take him from the cabin the following day. Jack was already above them, on deck, with Emilio.

One of them gave her a look of utter distaste, peeled her hand away, and with a brisk push, propelled her back inside. A moment later Lizbet was staring at the closed door.

They led him, between them, to a small room occupied only by Emilio, and lowered him onto a bench. When the door was closed, the Knight, arms folded, regarded him darkly.

“I know who you are. Your brother, I like well enough, I can understand what he has done,” Emilio said, levelly. He moved to stand a little closer, looking down upon Richard, who was forced to tip his head back to meet his gaze.

“I know your cousin as well,” Emilio continued. “He has made a significant name for himself within the Order. Grand Master de la Sengle relies upon his captains heavily and Edward Fitzwarren is one of his trusted men.”

Richard remained silent.

“I would not have you shame him. When you arrive in Malta, it will become known that you are part of his family. Your brother cannot continue to protect you. He is not a man who dissembles well.”

Richard dropped his gaze from Emilio’s. “I know.”

“Good,” Emilio said, suddenly, “then we are in agreement.”

Emilio’s servant arrived, and the Knight left. With voluble distaste for his task, the man attempted to remove filth, lice, matted hair and soiled clothing. Richard did not resist his ministrations, the process taking place without engaging him at all. When the man finished, he left the scissors, knife and mirror on the table.

Cold, lethally pointed, the scissors lay on top of the Florentine mirror where the servant had placed them. A trembling hand reached for them, pushing them away from the silvered glass. Gripping the handle, Richard lifted the mirror. The face that stared at him was not one he recognised.

He put the mirror down with a clatter.

It was not one that could bring them safely from Malta.

The words of the priest rattled around inside his head. Chanting and repeating the penance. “Salutis et innocentum… salvation of the innocents.”

Richard felt sick. It wasn’t this time a nausea brought about by the opium either. They were going to Malta, all of them were going to that steel isle and the chances were high that none of them would be coming back. He had no idea what they would do with an unmarried woman who was carrying a child – his brother’s child.

Christ!

“Salutis et innocentum…”

Richard’s head rang painfully with the words.

He needed to get them from Malta as quickly as possible. That they were going there at all was a folly now. Andrew had won. He’d extracted his revenge for the sin he believed Richard had committed. The deaths of the children, of the villagers and of Mat clung to him like a noxious odour. Andrew’s words, he was sure, were lies but

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