All My Desire by Margaret Moore

Author:Margaret Moore
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

In a bone-chilling drizzle, Connor reined in his mount and looked at the cluster of gray stone cottages barely distinguishable from everything around them. The water in the loch below was gray, the sky was gray, the rocky hills were green … and gray.

Sir Auberan de Beaumartre had certainly come down in the world. Before his fall from grace, he had been one of the richest young noblemen in England. He had also been one of the most vain, weak-willed men Connor had ever met.

As he raised his hand to signal his small troop of soldiers to head down into the valley, Connor wondered if he should reveal that Isabelle had been abducted, or indeed, anything at all about what had happened. He could not be sure that Auberan was not still in contact with Oswald, even if Oswald seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

On the other hand, if Auberan did communicate with Oswald, he would already know about the abduction of “Lady Allis.” Either way, Connor decided, he would have to be cautious of what he revealed.

When they rode into the settlement, for the collection of ramshackle buildings could not even be called a village, a boy came to the door of one of the hovels to watch them. His hair was an unkempt mess, his clothing little more than rags, and he was gnawing on the heel of a loaf of coarse brown bread.

Connor reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a penny. He tossed it at the lad, who let his bread drop into the mud to catch it. “We seek Sir Auberan de Beaumartre.”

The boy pointed toward the furthest low stone building.

Connor nodded his thanks as somebody behind the door put his hand on the lad’s shoulder and yanked him back inside. The door slammed shut.

Either because of the weather or—more likely—out of fear and suspicion, no one else appeared as they continued toward the far side of the settlement.

“Stay here unless I call or do not come out soon,” Connor commanded his men when they reached the cottage. The windows were shuttered, and no smoke rose from the roof. It looked deserted, and he wondered if the boy had purposefully lied for the sake of the penny. There was but one way to find out.

Fearing that Oswald might have decided to silence his former comrade permanently, Connor went to the simple wooden door held in place by a latch and leather hinges, and pounded on it. “Auberan!”

When there was no answer, he pounded again, and this time, the simple latch gave way.

Connor didn’t hesitate to enter. The building was divided into two parts, one for living quarters and the other, judging by the smell, for a barn. The scent of burning peat added to the pungent odor, although the fire had burned down to a mere glow in the hearth.

A table scarred and covered with crumbs stood near the smoke-blackened hearth heaped with ash. There were also the obvious remains of more than one meal on the table.

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