Fatal Truths by Anna Markland

Author:Anna Markland
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2014-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

AS THE FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN CREPT INTO THE SKY, Alex quickly climbed the ladder to the battlements, exchanging greetings with his soldiers. Each bowed in deference.

“Any change?” he asked Brodeur as he came to stand beside his Capitaine, looking out at the tents and pavilions of Geoffrey of Anjou’s besieging forces camped in the distance on the edge of the apple orchards.

“None. No movement. Only smoke from their cooking fires wending its slow way to heaven. They just sit there, as they have for a fortnight.”

“He’s trying to set us on edge,” Alex replied, but didn’t add that Geoffrey’s plan might be working.

The daily gossip among the servants revolved increasingly around when Anjou would attack. Bets were laid. Arguments erupted. Tension and uncertainty filled the air, adding to Alex’s turmoil.

He was a newly married man who longed to share the news of his happiness with his brothers. He wanted more than a few stolen hours in the dead of night. Waking up each morning without Elayne intruded on his contentment.

It rankled that he wasn’t free to come and go around his own lands. Even the old orchards on which Montbryce depended for its famous apple brandy were out of reach. The crop would be lost if serfs didn’t harvest the ripening apples soon. Not only would there be no brandy distilled, the fruit was an important source of food they might need.

He longed to stroll through the familiar trees with Elayne and her children. He’d reach up and pluck a rosy apple and give it to her—a token of his heart.

They could wander down to the lake where his grandparents had first met. He’d wager she’d enjoy the story of his grandmother picking bluebells, though the tale of his grandfather coming upon his future wife lying almost naked in the grass would have to wait until they were out of earshot of Henry and Claricia. His body heated as he imagined her reaction.

He had a vague recollection of his grandmother, Mabelle, but it saddened him he’d never met the great Ram de Montbryce.

“Autumn’s chill is already in the air,” Brodeur declared, jolting him out of his reverie. “We must be careful with the wood supply.”

Alex nodded. “Bonhomme has it in hand. People are grumbling about some of the rationing, but they understand why it’s necessary.”

Brodeur gripped the hilt of his sword. “I hope that holds true when winter wraps its cold hands around their bodies, and freezes the fingers and toes of their children. I hate this waiting. I’d rather be fighting.”

They’d discussed launching an attack on Anjou’s men, but uncertainty as to how many lay in wait outside the walls had led to a decision to wait. More of his forces might be camped out of sight. Geoffrey could come and go at will. It was unlikely he was sitting in one of those distant tents, warding off the chill.

Romain bounded up the ladder. “Bonjour, mon frère. Brodeur.”

Alex had thanked le bon Dieu every day of the standoff for his brother’s ability to maintain his good humor.

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