Between Two Fires by Mark Noce

Author:Mark Noce
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466884434
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

11

“Riders at the gates!”

Enid bursts into my bedchamber, torchlight flickering in the nearby brazier. Artagan and I sit on my bedspread, several books open as we read by firelight. The warrior-woman narrows her gaze, probably wondering why she should find the two of us alone together and poring over dusty old tomes.

My pulse quickens at the sound of horses whinnying outside the keep walls. Artagan and I exchange looks as we dart to the windowsill. Outside the gate, several torches dot the otherwise pitch-black night. I place my hand on Artagan’s.

“Raiders?”

“Too few of them, unless more wait in ambush.”

“How did they get so close to the keep undetected?”

He frowns, undoubtedly wondering the same thing. Enid prods the open pages of yellowed parchment on the bed. Quickly gathering them together, I shut the book covers. Enid grabs one.

“What were you two doing?”

“Never mind,” Artagan answers. “Wake my father and summon guards to man the walls.”

Enid reluctantly obeys. Once she has gone, I hide the hardbacks under a blanket. Artagan unsheathes his blade, pausing in the doorway. He glances at the mound of hidden books.

“We’ll continue this later?”

“I hope so,” I reply, smiling.

He nods with a grin, darting down the dim corridors toward the main gate. I shake my head. He should not be so embarrassed. Even amongst noblemen, few warriors know how to properly read. It never occurred to me that Artagan might have learned all of Taliesin’s poetry from listening to bards and minstrels instead of reading about it in books.

Nonetheless, Artagan learns quickly. A few more weeks of lessons and I’ll have him reading as well as any monk. Tucking the last of the books away, I put on my shawl before heading outside.

I’ve no intention of hiding in my chamber while a potential enemy waits at the gates. Whatever fate has in store for me, I would rather meet it openly than cower behind closed doors. What gang of cutthroats has my former husband sent after me now? When I reach the lookout tower, Enid, Artagan, and several other guards man the battlements. The glow of torches emanates from a small company of horsemen clustered in the darkness. Artagan bellows down from the walls.

“Who goes?”

“Someone you once gave a cracked jaw.”

My ears perk up. I know that voice. Leaning over the embrasures, I shout to the guards.

“Open the gates! It’s my kinsman, Ahern.”

Enid and a handful of Free Cantref men reluctantly unbar the large timber doors, letting the small cavalcade inside the muddy courtyard. King Cadwallon arrives as the riders dismount, their faces lit by torchlight. Rushing forward, I embrace Ahern and kiss his bruised cheek. He winces a moment, the old wound still not entirely healed. Nonetheless, he cannot help but smile at me.

“My lady, a queen ought not to be without her household, so I’ve brought them to you.”

Three other riders dismount and step into the light: Padraig, Rowena, and Una. The balding cleric and my two serving girls smile broadly at me as I step forward to put my arms around them.

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