Shy Leopardess_The Neustrian Cycle_Book III_Forgotten Fantasy Library by Leslie Barringer

Author:Leslie Barringer [Barringer, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Renaissance E Books
Published: 2006-04-17T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX

THE SECRET SERVANTS OF YOLANDE

On a misty November afternoon Yolande and Douce, with old Julian and three archers in attendance, rode up the stony streets from the east gate to the castle. As they passed the yard entry of an inn called the Spurs, a greasy-looking woman came stumbling out and caught at Yolande's stirrup.

'My lady duchess!' she pleased, and Yolande waved back the archer who crowded forward with lifted whip.

'What is it?' asked Yolande, reining in, and pushing at her hood to get a clearer view of the crowd that gabbled beside the inn stable.

'One of your men, my lady duchess – a harper has knifed him, and they've sent for the provost.'

Yolande hesitated. This was the kind of affair from which she instinctively shrank; but Odard de Xantroy had ridden away to Pardelin, and no one had ever before made such a direct appeal to her authority. She turned the grey gelding Tancred into the yard, and the others came clattering and crowding after her. A glowering soldier, with the Leopard on his coat, stood holding a gashed and bleeding wrist. The fat innkeeper was storming at a tall shifty-eyed man who carried a flute sheathed at his belt. Inside the stable someone was lying on the straw; the group fell silent, hats came off, and again Yolande halted her mount.

'Where is this harper?' she demanded.

The innkeeper gestured unhappily towards the dark interior.

'What's he doing there? Is he wounded?'

'Its … it's a young woman, my lady,' stammered the innkeeper. 'She's hurt her leg and can't walk, and I gave this knave leave to shelter her and the rest of his company here, never expecting any trouble of this sort…'

'A young woman? Let me see her. Take my bridle.'

Yolande slid to the ground, and the innkeeper reached for the gelding's rein. The travelling flute-player shrank back, and the soldier made a clumsy effort to salute, still holding his wrist. There in the heaped straw was a mop of frizzy dark hair, a pointed sallow face lit by defiant blue eyes, a dirty blanket, and two thin fists, one of them clenched on the hilt of a dagger.

'What's your name?' asked Yolande, 'Tell me what happened. Why did you … what did he do to you?'

The blue eyes stared fearlessly up from beneath fine black eyebrows. A sullen voice rose quietly and quickly from pale bitten lips.

'I am called Heuradys, my lady. I play the harp. The soldier says he paid to have some fun with me. I don't sell that sort of fun, and he never even tried to pay me. That long knave with the flute is the chief of our troupe. He must have taken the money, thinking I couldn't defend myself and wouldn't make a fuss. The innkeeper wants to turn us all out for brawling. If you're a great lady here, I pray don't let him, for we've nowhere else to go this winter. And don't come too near … I smell and it makes me ashamed.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.