Shannon Drake - Fire 01 by Princess Of Fire

Author:Princess Of Fire [Fire, Princess Of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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PART THREE

The Conquerors

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Chapter Fifteen

Ť ^ ť

Alaric did not return to his quarters that evening. He asked where Falstaff had been taken, then hurried to see his old friend.

Falstaff slept; the physician told Alaric that they must wait and see. If there was no infection, and if the wound healed cleanly, Falstaff might well live. But one could never tell with such injuries. Many, many men lay wounded. They were still being carried back from the battlefield as the living went about the grim task of separating those who breathed from the dead, among whom they lay.

When he emerged from the physician’s tent, Alaric saw that dawn was breaking. He had barely walked ten steps before he was stopped by a messenger.

The duke had spent the night upon the battlefield, the messenger informed him. He had sent men to find Edith Svanneshals and bring her to the battle site. The dead Saxons had been stripped of their mail and weapons and thrown naked on a heap. William needed Edith to find Harold’s body among the slain. Alaric was to accompany her.

He held Edith to his side as they came to a ridge that scooped low to a valley. Bodies were piled there, frozen in the contortions of death. Many were naked, and many were dismembered.

Harold’s body would be mutilated, too, Alaric thought.

Edith sagged against him. He feared that she would be sick. Alaric had fought many, many battles, but the bile still rose in his throat as he stared at the macabre scene.

“Edith,” he whispered softly, “let me take you from this! I can talk with William; we’ll find someone else for this cruel task.”

“No!” She straightened, and though she retained a ghastly pallor, she smiled again. “I must know, Alaric. Already they whisper that he lives, that he has escaped the battle and will return. I must know. And if he is dead, then I crave the burial that your duke swears he will give him.”

Alaric nodded, understanding. But the sea of Saxon bodies was daunting. A priest was passing among the corpses at some distance; with a start Alaric recognized the man as Damien, the curious clergyman who had spoken so strangely on the night the comet first appeared.

Father Damien walked among the dead, murmuring prayers and blessings. He raised his head, and his eyes met Alaric’s. He nodded gravely, then lifted his hand and beckoned toward Edith. “I believe that we may have found him,” Alaric said. He took Edith’s arm and led her toward Father Damien.

“Do not look long, my lady,” the priest warned her. But she was staring hard at the horribly mutilated corpse, which had been stripped naked. She didn’t scream, but a sound more horrible than any Alaric had ever heard tore from her throat, and she fell to the ground. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she lay upon the body that had once been a man.

“Edith, Edith!” Alaric reached down to her. He brought her sobbing into his arms and signaled to two soldiers to retrieve the body.

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