The Raven and the Rose by Jo Beverley

Author:Jo Beverley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 2014-03-17T22:00:00+00:00

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Gledys had not walked far when she realized that her magical path had blended with a well-worn one, and she glimpsed open fields ahead. She hurried forward, but when she emerged from the trees she halted, a new panic fluttering in her.

What noise was that? Clashes and bangs, yells and cries. Lord save her. Men were fighting nearby!

The raven swept ahead, however, and she was compelled to follow, but as the noises grew louder, her steps slowed and her heart thumped with fear. Such anger and violence in every sound. Murderous hatred.

But then she glimpsed a stone keep with pennants flying. A keep she remembered. Her heart pounded with a new beat now, and her steps speeded. This was the tournament. This was where she’d seen Michael fight!

She picked up her skirts and ran, but halted again at the sight of a mass of tents and people covering the land on this side of the castle. She tried to take it in, but she’d never seen so many people in her life, or heard such a jumble of noises, from screams to singing, clangs to music. Then she made out roofs near the castle and she realized there must be a small town of some sort there. And also a large open area to the right of the town, roped off all around, in which the men were fighting.

That must be where she’d seen Michael defeat the big man, so he might be there now, but the war camp lay like a barrier between. To get to Michael, however, she’d pass through a fiery battlefield, and so she walked on, head held high.

To her right, she saw rough-looking men caring for many horses. To her left, some jongleurs were building a tower of people for a small crowd. She was following a makeshift road between tents, the grass mostly trodden away. It passed between stalls selling food and drink, and others offering everything from ribbons to blades, and scantily dressed women offering something else entirely. Some of the stall keepers called out to her to buy, but most of the men and women just stared at her. She realized there was no one else like her here, no other finely dressed women walking by themselves. Everywhere she saw just men, hard-bitten women and whores.

Where was the raven?

Was this truly the way she should go?

A rag-swathed child ran forward to clutch her gown, whining for alms. Others appeared out of nowhere, begging, whining, plucking at her skirts. Gledys pitied them, but shrank from them, too. It was as if they’d pull the clothing off her. A woman came out of a tent that was only rags over sticks and yelled at the children to stop, but her eyes were hard. She, too, would probably tear Gledys’s clothes off if she thought she could get away with it.

Gledys hurried onward, but her resolve was even stronger now. Those poor wretches must be here for what work and scraps they could scavenge, and yes, probably for what they could steal.

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