Read Online Angel of the Knight by Diana Hall - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Diana Hall
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truth?”
“Because I speak the truth.” Falke waited as his friend and second pondered the information. “The girl has no impediment to her legs. ’Tis but a ruse.”
“And you just now tell me.” Ozbern voice rose in pitch. He patted his palm over his heart.
“’Tis my thought she plays this game to put Titus off guard. I fear the more that know the more likely Titus will find her out.”
Appeased, his second asked, “’Tis true, and Titus is not a man to forgive. But what of her wits? Is she as dull as she seems?”
“Nay. I have heard her speak, both French and English. But not well in either language. She is not as weak-minded as she appears, yet I know not how strong a mind she possesses.”
“Why is it, my friend, that nothing associated with you is as it seems? Not even this poor woman?”
“That is why I keep your company, Ozbern.” Falke slapped his friend on the bank. “You are ever constant.”
“Are you saying I’m a boor?”
“Nay. Only…predictable. ’Tis why I always win at chess. You think overmuch.”
“’Tis my lot, since you act first and think later. But that will change.”
“How so?”
“Now you have something to lose.” Ozbern gave Falke a paternal smile. “Come. After the evening meal the musicians will strike up their instruments, and a poet has stopped by to recite an epic. ’Twill be almost as much entertainment as watching Ivette pretend to hate you.”
“Pretend?”
Ozbern chuckled. “No woman that harbors ill feeling toward a man would walk past him so oft and with that gait.” He let his hips swing gently back and forth.
“She is a woman. She will use what she has to get her way.” Tugging at his chin, Falke gave the barbican one last glance. If ’twas not the Lady Wren he had followed, who was it? ’Twould be several hours before they ate the light evening meal. “I would explore my demesne, Ozbern. Stay here, with an eye to Lady Wren. See that she is escorted wherever she may wander. I will return by nightfall.”
“What is about?”
Years of friendship and countless battles had melded a bond between the two men. Falke could hide little from his second. ’Twas a feeling of both comfort and concern. What could he say to his friend? That the hair along his neck tingled? That he felt restless?
“Nothing, save a wish to stretch these long legs and free me from Ivette, Ferris, Laron and Titus.”
“Very well, I will be on my guard. And mind you, you do the same. I’ve no wish at this late date to find myself without a liege and friend.” Ozbern walked back toward the castle.
Falke strode toward the barbican, his strides lengthening with each step. After his conversation with Ozbern, he realized the mysterious woman could be anywhere. He scanned the landscape.
The one road to the drawbridge dipped into a shallow valley. Standing on the rise, he could see the hovels that made up the village. His uncle had wasted no income on his serfs, and as such, they had no loyalty to Falke.
The grassy fields surrounding the village claimed the hearts of his villeins and freemen. Fertile soil waited to be plowed, sowed and harvested, the bounty of which would feed his people over the long harsh winter. With Lord Merin’s death and the arrival of the Cravenmoor nobles, the planting had been delayed but a few days. Tomorrow he would order the reeve to begin the plowing. For now, he planted his fists at his hips and scanned the grass for the woman he had been following.
There! Just at the forest’s edge, a short form, dark and shapeless, slid into the woods. He marked the spot in his mind and loped across the fields toward it.
Cautiously, he made his way between the trunks of oak and maple trees. Insects hummed near his ear,and he batted away the flying pests. The ground sagged as he walked, the spring thaw soaking the accumulated dead leaves and soil.
Afternoon sun sneaked through the canopy above his head and spattered light like an artist flicking
“Because I speak the truth.” Falke waited as his friend and second pondered the information. “The girl has no impediment to her legs. ’Tis but a ruse.”
“And you just now tell me.” Ozbern voice rose in pitch. He patted his palm over his heart.
“’Tis my thought she plays this game to put Titus off guard. I fear the more that know the more likely Titus will find her out.”
Appeased, his second asked, “’Tis true, and Titus is not a man to forgive. But what of her wits? Is she as dull as she seems?”
“Nay. I have heard her speak, both French and English. But not well in either language. She is not as weak-minded as she appears, yet I know not how strong a mind she possesses.”
“Why is it, my friend, that nothing associated with you is as it seems? Not even this poor woman?”
“That is why I keep your company, Ozbern.” Falke slapped his friend on the bank. “You are ever constant.”
“Are you saying I’m a boor?”
“Nay. Only…predictable. ’Tis why I always win at chess. You think overmuch.”
“’Tis my lot, since you act first and think later. But that will change.”
“How so?”
“Now you have something to lose.” Ozbern gave Falke a paternal smile. “Come. After the evening meal the musicians will strike up their instruments, and a poet has stopped by to recite an epic. ’Twill be almost as much entertainment as watching Ivette pretend to hate you.”
“Pretend?”
Ozbern chuckled. “No woman that harbors ill feeling toward a man would walk past him so oft and with that gait.” He let his hips swing gently back and forth.
“She is a woman. She will use what she has to get her way.” Tugging at his chin, Falke gave the barbican one last glance. If ’twas not the Lady Wren he had followed, who was it? ’Twould be several hours before they ate the light evening meal. “I would explore my demesne, Ozbern. Stay here, with an eye to Lady Wren. See that she is escorted wherever she may wander. I will return by nightfall.”
“What is about?”
Years of friendship and countless battles had melded a bond between the two men. Falke could hide little from his second. ’Twas a feeling of both comfort and concern. What could he say to his friend? That the hair along his neck tingled? That he felt restless?
“Nothing, save a wish to stretch these long legs and free me from Ivette, Ferris, Laron and Titus.”
“Very well, I will be on my guard. And mind you, you do the same. I’ve no wish at this late date to find myself without a liege and friend.” Ozbern walked back toward the castle.
Falke strode toward the barbican, his strides lengthening with each step. After his conversation with Ozbern, he realized the mysterious woman could be anywhere. He scanned the landscape.
The one road to the drawbridge dipped into a shallow valley. Standing on the rise, he could see the hovels that made up the village. His uncle had wasted no income on his serfs, and as such, they had no loyalty to Falke.
The grassy fields surrounding the village claimed the hearts of his villeins and freemen. Fertile soil waited to be plowed, sowed and harvested, the bounty of which would feed his people over the long harsh winter. With Lord Merin’s death and the arrival of the Cravenmoor nobles, the planting had been delayed but a few days. Tomorrow he would order the reeve to begin the plowing. For now, he planted his fists at his hips and scanned the grass for the woman he had been following.
There! Just at the forest’s edge, a short form, dark and shapeless, slid into the woods. He marked the spot in his mind and loped across the fields toward it.
Cautiously, he made his way between the trunks of oak and maple trees. Insects hummed near his ear,and he batted away the flying pests. The ground sagged as he walked, the spring thaw soaking the accumulated dead leaves and soil.
Afternoon sun sneaked through the canopy above his head and spattered light like an artist flicking
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