Citit - Her Battle-Scarred Knight by Meriel Fuller

Author:Meriel Fuller [Fuller, Meriel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

A huddle of cottages gathered around a small patch of green formed the village of Thornslait. The houses were simple, rectangular buildings, walls made up from a mixture of mud and straw plastered over a mesh of woven sticks. Smoke poured from holes in the thatch roofs, spilling into the night air like dark liquid.

Through gritty eyes, Brianna watched as Giseux dismounted, handing her his reins to hold, and walked towards the nearest house. An old man opened the door at Giseux’s knock, his face shadowed by the overhang of thatch that protected the walls from rain and snow. She heard the brief exchange of speech, too far away to decipher the actual words. A perplexing detachment stole over her; it felt strange for someone else to organise her night’s accommodation—normally she would have insisted on deciding for herself where she was to sleep. She couldn’t quite believe that this man, this knight, had changed his plans for her, had come after her; she wanted to pinch herself, to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. Giseux handed the man some money, a gleam of silver in the gloaming, then, wrapping himself into a threadbare cloak, the old man took up a long walking stick, moving off into the centre of the village.

‘Giseux,’ she hissed, glancing anxiously after the hobbling figure. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Securing us a bed for the night.’ Before she could argue, he laced his hands around her narrow waist and swung her down from the palfrey.

‘But … where is he going?’

Giseux tied both horses to a rickety wooden post near the cottage, releasing the girth straps to haul the heavy saddles from the horses. He dropped them onto the ground, in the lee of the roof. Taking her fingers, stiff with cold, he led her through the door. ‘He will sleep on a pallet bed, at his daughter’s cottage.’

‘But to turn him out of his own home!’ Her gaze fixed longingly on the dancing flames set in a circle of stones in the middle of the packed earth floor, a rustic hearth. The smoke curled upwards, slowly, filling the air with a slight haze, before sucking up through the hole in the roof.

Giseux turned to her, his sculptured profile lit by the orange glow from the fire. ‘He was happy to go, Brianna. He and his family will not want for food for many months.’

‘But …?’ The heat from the fire seared through the front of her gown, her legs; an involuntary shudder passed through her, as her frozen limbs began to warm up.

‘Stop fretting,’ he countered firmly. ‘You need to sleep.’

She searched the interior for some form of bed, a pallet, but found nothing.

‘Up there.’ Giseux pointed, the fine metallic scales of his chainmail glinting, rippling over his broad shoulders.

Brianna followed his outstretched arm, up a makeshift ladder cobbled together from wonky, ill-fitting pieces of wood, to a sleeping platform, set high up beneath the rafters. ‘And where will you sleep?’ she asked sternly. The fleeting memory of his kiss scalded her brain.

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