Read Online Captive Rose by Miriam Minger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Miriam Minger
Ads: Link
the infidel
here !" he spat bitterly as the peephole was slammed shut. He turned
his back to the door and leaned against the wall, rubbing his aching shoulder
through the bandage.
At least he could be thankful the pain had lessened to
only a fraction of what it had once been. He had no complaints as far as his
injury was concerned. He was alive, which was more than he could say for the
men who had accompanied him on Edward's embassy to Anatolia.
Guy squeezed his eyes shut, hearing again in his mind
the dying screams of his companions. The surprise attack had come so swiftly.
Most of the men were wrenched from their horses and their throats slit from ear
to ear before they could utter a sound. A few others, longtime friends, died
even more hideously.
He could still hear Reginald Weller calling out to him
as the older knight fought off a half dozen attackers, ordering him to escape
with his life, the battle lost. Guy had tried to reach him, but he was too
late. He watched in horror as Reginald was split in two by a single blow from a
scimitar, the severed corpse hitting the earth in a spray of blood and chain
mail.
After that, Guy could remember fighting and killing his
way out of the narrow ravine and then running, running . . . until he found a
shallow but well-concealed cave where he could hide.
Several times in the scorching hot days that followed
he heard soldiers shouting nearby, and he knew they were looking for him.
Finally, famished and thirsty and unable to bear the cave's close confines any
longer, he ventured out, determined to find his way on foot back to Acre. He
didn't get far.
Cursing, Guy pushed away from the wall and began to
pace the cell, his anger and frustration boiling
hotter with each step.
It plagued him like an open, festering sore not to know
if any of his companions had survived the surprise attack and were being held
for ransom in this lousy prison, but there was no one he could ask. None of the
guards understood English and neither did the Arab physician, who had been
communicating with him in a curt sign language.
He had decided to conceal the fact that he understood
some Arabic and could even speak a little, in the hope that he might glean
information from any conversations he overheard. But so far, no luck.
The guards outside his cell were a taciturn lot, and
when they did converse, they spoke so rapidly he was unable to grasp what they
were saying. The same thing had happened between Leila and her Arab master when
he was chained to the wall. God help him, if he could only speak with her
again! Where the hell was she?
Guy winced as the bolt on the cell door was drawn back,
the screeching sound grating on his nerves. Four guards rushed inside, their
bright blades pointed at him menacingly. He knew this meant that the great
physician was on his way to pay his morning call.
He was so sick of looking at that Arab's face! He
always thought of Leila and what she must be suffering at his lecherous hands.
Truly, if there ever was a maiden in distress, it was she.
"Where's Leila? I want to see her!" he
shouted even though he knew the guards didn't understand him. He continued to
pace despite their presence, feeling like a wild, restless animal stalking its
cage. "I said where's Leila, damn you! Are you idiots? Leila, the
Christian slave of Al-Aziz! "
Guy could scarcely believe it when she suddenly walked
into the cell, followed by the captain, who had a decidedly gloating expression
on his narrow face.
"Leila!" Without thinking he took a step
toward her, but he immediately stopped when the guards surrounded him with
their swords. He held up his hands. "Calm yourselves. I meant no harm."
He listened to the lilting timbre of Leila's voice as
she quickly translated what he had said, but the guards did not relax their
threatening stance. It seemed they trusted him just about as much as he trusted
them, which was not at all.
"My master was called away on other duties this
morning," Leila said,
here !" he spat bitterly as the peephole was slammed shut. He turned
his back to the door and leaned against the wall, rubbing his aching shoulder
through the bandage.
At least he could be thankful the pain had lessened to
only a fraction of what it had once been. He had no complaints as far as his
injury was concerned. He was alive, which was more than he could say for the
men who had accompanied him on Edward's embassy to Anatolia.
Guy squeezed his eyes shut, hearing again in his mind
the dying screams of his companions. The surprise attack had come so swiftly.
Most of the men were wrenched from their horses and their throats slit from ear
to ear before they could utter a sound. A few others, longtime friends, died
even more hideously.
He could still hear Reginald Weller calling out to him
as the older knight fought off a half dozen attackers, ordering him to escape
with his life, the battle lost. Guy had tried to reach him, but he was too
late. He watched in horror as Reginald was split in two by a single blow from a
scimitar, the severed corpse hitting the earth in a spray of blood and chain
mail.
After that, Guy could remember fighting and killing his
way out of the narrow ravine and then running, running . . . until he found a
shallow but well-concealed cave where he could hide.
Several times in the scorching hot days that followed
he heard soldiers shouting nearby, and he knew they were looking for him.
Finally, famished and thirsty and unable to bear the cave's close confines any
longer, he ventured out, determined to find his way on foot back to Acre. He
didn't get far.
Cursing, Guy pushed away from the wall and began to
pace the cell, his anger and frustration boiling
hotter with each step.
It plagued him like an open, festering sore not to know
if any of his companions had survived the surprise attack and were being held
for ransom in this lousy prison, but there was no one he could ask. None of the
guards understood English and neither did the Arab physician, who had been
communicating with him in a curt sign language.
He had decided to conceal the fact that he understood
some Arabic and could even speak a little, in the hope that he might glean
information from any conversations he overheard. But so far, no luck.
The guards outside his cell were a taciturn lot, and
when they did converse, they spoke so rapidly he was unable to grasp what they
were saying. The same thing had happened between Leila and her Arab master when
he was chained to the wall. God help him, if he could only speak with her
again! Where the hell was she?
Guy winced as the bolt on the cell door was drawn back,
the screeching sound grating on his nerves. Four guards rushed inside, their
bright blades pointed at him menacingly. He knew this meant that the great
physician was on his way to pay his morning call.
He was so sick of looking at that Arab's face! He
always thought of Leila and what she must be suffering at his lecherous hands.
Truly, if there ever was a maiden in distress, it was she.
"Where's Leila? I want to see her!" he
shouted even though he knew the guards didn't understand him. He continued to
pace despite their presence, feeling like a wild, restless animal stalking its
cage. "I said where's Leila, damn you! Are you idiots? Leila, the
Christian slave of Al-Aziz! "
Guy could scarcely believe it when she suddenly walked
into the cell, followed by the captain, who had a decidedly gloating expression
on his narrow face.
"Leila!" Without thinking he took a step
toward her, but he immediately stopped when the guards surrounded him with
their swords. He held up his hands. "Calm yourselves. I meant no harm."
He listened to the lilting timbre of Leila's voice as
she quickly translated what he had said, but the guards did not relax their
threatening stance. It seemed they trusted him just about as much as he trusted
them, which was not at all.
"My master was called away on other duties this
morning," Leila said,
Similar Books
