Summer's Storm by Domning Denise

Author:Domning, Denise [Domning, Denise]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction
Published: 2011-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

Pain flashed through Philippa, searing in its intensity. She stiffened, crying out against it.

“Hush, little one,” a man said. “It’s not much farther.”

His words confused her. What wasn’t much farther? Where was she going? She tried to open her eyes, but the light sent another flash of pain through her.

“I hurt,” she cried out through clenched teeth.

“To be sure. That was a mighty blow you endured,” he replied, his voice soft and soothing. Something brushed her face. A hand, the brush of fingers warm against her cheek. “Sleep, sweetling.”

His last words woke a picture in her mind. A man with a crooked nose, a neatly trimmed beard, dark hair and eyes that glowed golden when he looked at her. She sighed. The feeling that accompanied this image was trust. That she could trust him meant she knew him, but no name came with his image.

Once again, Philippa was jolted. The pain was more than she could bear. As it overwhelmed her, she again dropped into painless nothingness.

Temric grimly watched the woman he loved return to unconsciousness. The misty rain was beginning to soak through her blankets. He could only hope the wetness wouldn’t bring on additional sickness. Thank God and His saints they were now only a stone’s throw from their destination.

Lifting his gaze to Stanrudde’s oncoming walls, he studied them in a habit borne from years of warring. A dry moat fronted the city walls. At either side of the town’s main gateway stood a thick, rectangular tower, footings sloping outward to discourage sappers. Arrow slits appeared at regular intervals along the towers’ faces, giving defenders clear targets up and down the ditch.

From over the walls came the sound of bells as all six of Stanrudde’s churches began warning the city’s inhabitants that Compline was but a quarter hour away. Temric gave thanks they’d arrived in time. Once Compline began the gate’s massive wooden doors would close for the night.

It wasn’t until Peter drove the oxen onto the tongue of wood spanning the dry moat that panic hit Temric. God save him, but once he was within these walls he’d be trapped forever, leaving his rightful lands wanting their lord! Nothing in all his life had felt as wrong as what he now contemplated doing. He glanced at Philippa and his heart steadied. There were things more important than fiefs and keeps. Against the thought of a life with her, worry died. Surely, he’d grow accustomed to a commoner’s life in time.

Ahead of him, the cart stopped. Peter slipped off the back of the cart and strode up its far side toward the gate. The lad’s shock had faded hours ago, but he’d remained sober and quiet for the duration of their journey. Just as well. Temric doubted he could tolerate idle conversation this day.

A man appeared in the gateway’s shadows. His scarlet capuchin was brilliant against the dark walls around him. He eyed the peasant driving the team. “Your business?” he barked.

“Timothy, it's me, Peter, son of Peter

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