Maid of Midnight by Ana Seymour

Author:Ana Seymour
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2013-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Finally it appeared that he was going to be able to question the sheriff of Beauville. There were a number of horses tied in front of the sheriff’s house as Ranulf rode up on Thunder after stopping at the blacksmith’s to pick up his arms. He slowed to a halt, then dismounted and began tying Thunder at the gate as a guard emerged and came down the path toward him.

“State your business,” the man said.

It seemed an unfriendly welcome for a provincial sheriff, but Ranulf reminded himself that there’d been a violent death in the town the previous day. “My business is with the sheriff,” he told the man pleasantly. “I’ve some questions to ask him about a missing person.”

The man eyed Ranulf’s strange attire. He still wore the pig farmer’s humble tunic and boots, yet over it he had placed a tooled belt containing the smith’s finest dagger, and on his head he wore a small leather helmet that covered his head bandage. “You may give me your name and I’ll let the sheriff know you’re here.”

Ranulf told the guard his name and waited patiently while the man disappeared inside the sheriff’s house, which, unlike the surrounding cottages, was built of a sturdy brick. It was several minutes before the man reappeared and motioned him to enter.

Charles Guise was seated in the far corner of the room in a deep master’s chair with arms that gave it the look of a throne. He didn’t stand or make any acknowledgment at the knight’s entrance, but Ranulf ignored the insult. He was here to get information, not exchange courtesies.

“We have no idea why my brother would have been wanting to find St. Gabriel,” Ranulf explained at the conclusion of his story. “And no one at the abbey seems to have heard anything of him.”

Guise’s only response to his account was a question. “You have been staying at the abbey, then?”

“Aye. They cared for me after the incident on the highway.”

“You were lucky that they found you.” There was a curious detachment to the sheriff’s observation.

“But not so lucky to have been waylaid in the first place, wouldn’t you agree?” Ranulf asked dryly.

“Perhaps you should take it as a sign that the Crusades are over. It’s time for English knights to return to their homelands and leave us in peace.”

At Lyonsbridge Ranulf had been raised with a respect for authority and the rule of law. He had not expected to be mistrustful of the sheriff. But the longer they talked, the more he began to dislike the man. Nevertheless, he kept his tone civil as he said, “I’ll be happy to return to England as soon as my brother can ride home at my side. I was hoping that you might be able to help me with my search, but if you have no information, I’ll begin my own inquiries.”

“Have you found out anything that would explain your brother’s interest in St. Gabriel?”

“Nay. I’ve questioned the monks there. They can make no sense of it.

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