Merciless by Tamara Leigh

Author:Tamara Leigh [Leigh, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2018-11-15T18:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lillefarne Abbey

England

P ast middle night. Were they coming or not? And if they came, were there any Normans in the wood to alert Cyr?

Where Aelfled crouched against the wall, clouds overheard spotting her with cool drops, she pressed fingertips hard to her temples, then thrust fingers back through her hair.

Cradling her head, she closed her eyes. “Lord, keep them from the blades of Normans. They but seek to take back their lives and country. Pray, aid me in keeping them safe from whatever foul winds blow this night.”

A hoot sounded, and she so forcefully snapped up her head it clipped the wall behind. Was it of owl or man? Glimpsing no movement amid the scattered fruit trees between her garden and the wood, she waited.

Now two hoots. Silence. Three hoots.

She pushed upright, and as she moved along the wall toward the hidden door, saw movement.

They trickled in, advancing tree to tree, perhaps as many as a score. As she had never sheltered so great a number, it portended much ill had been worked on Cyr D’Argent. Until the danger of him was past, she must keep Isa’s rebels here. If he came to her with questions and accusations, she would lie as she must for her lady, though had God in His heavens not entirely turned from her, she gave Him more cause.

In that moment, she longed to clasp her lost psalter between her palms, press its spine to her lips, and seek comfort in repeating the prayers within—until she recalled the blood staining it.

“Attend to the now,” she whispered. “Serve your lady well.”

It surprised Vitalis was the first to appear. On nights she sheltered his men—and the occasional woman—rarely did Isa’s most trusted man present himself. Instead, he and others led their pursuers astray, and the next day or the day after Aelfled would begin receiving instructions as to which men should return to the encampment—two at once, at times as many as half a dozen.

“What do you here?” she asked as Vitalis motioned forward those who followed him.

“Too many D’Argents,” he rasped. “Though we struck hard and well, we are to exercise greater caution.” Then almost to himself, he muttered, “A risky venture this. Accursed Jaxon.”

Then it was Isa’s first in command who chose to ignore Aelfled’s warning she was too closely watched to ensure the rebels’ safety. She was not surprised, nor that Vitalis was angered. Unlike Jaxon, he thought first of those under his command, whereas the former thought first of vengeance. Were Isa not so ill, surely she would put an end to Jaxon's disregard for the lives of those fighting to regain that stolen from them.

“The one whom Baron D’Argent set to watch over the abbey met an unfortunate end,” Vitalis returned her to the present with tidings that stole Aelfled’s breath. “Though Sigward was under my orders to—”

“Sigward?” she gasped the name of one she had no liking for, he who was not directly under Vitalis’s command.

“Aye, as my scout took ill, Jaxon sent him.

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