Read Online Highland Resurrection (Blades of Honor Book 2) by B.J. Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: B.J. Scott
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no offense. I was merely asking. There have been some French soldiers in the village of late, inquiring about the clerics who live in and around Berwick. They are looking for escaped fugitives, and said to be wary of men posing as priests and monks.”
Lazarus focused on the peddler’s cart rather than looking him in the eye. “I have no knowledge of any such men at Ayton Abbey. I have lived there since I was orphaned and left for dead following the Battle of Berwick-upon-Tweed.”
“A dark day in Scottish history,” the vendor said.
“Aye, it was.” Lazarus quickly changed the subject. “I’ll need some oats, several turnips, and an onion.” He paused, then turned to the first vendor. “And a small sack of sugared nuts.” He nodded at Quinn. “Pay the man.”
Quinn opened his money pouch, plucked out pieces of silver, then placed them on the second vendor’s palm. “I hope this is enough. My sister has been ill and I want to make a gift of the sweets.” He nibbled on his lower lip as the man counted the coins.
“Aye, you have plenty and some to spare.” He handed the change back to Quinn, then quickly gathered the purchased items and gave the bundle to Lazarus. “I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“None. But in future, I hope you’ll think before you pass judgement or speak ill of those less fortunate.” Lazarus tucked his purchases under his arm, then glanced down at Quinn. “Let’s be off. Your sister is awaiting your return.”
“Dinna forget your nuts.” The first vendor held a small canvas bag. “I threw in a few extras to make up for my brother’s loose tongue. This way the lad can have some and give the rest to his ailing sister.”
Quinn snatched the sweets and held them protectively against his chest. “Thank you.”
“That was kind of you,” Lazarus acknowledged. “I have no doubt he will enjoy them.”
As they turned to leave, Lazarus stopped dead in his tracks when he came face-to-face with a man wearing the attire of a French Guard—a sight he’d seen often during his incarceration in the palace prison and something he would never forget.
“ Bonjour , friar.”
Lazarus’s mouth went dry when the guard spoke, then he quickly tucked his hands under his arms, hiding the Templar ring he wore and had forgotten to remove before heading into town.
“I see by your attire you are a monk. Might I ask your name?” the guard asked.
Lazarus lowered his gaze, his heart hammering. He had to think fast, but he would not risk putting Quinn in any danger. “I’m not sure why you wish to know, but I’m Brother Thomas,” he lied, hoping the Lord would forgive him, and that Quinn would not contradict him.
“Where are you headed, Brother Thomas?” The guard widened his stance, his hand resting over the hilt of his sword.
“He is taking me home to my sister,” Quinn piped up. “She has been caring for me since my mam died giving birth to me. Sheena has been ill and the brother was kind enough to bring me to town for supplies we need to tide us over until she recovers.”
The guard narrowed his gaze and stared at Lazarus. “Have you or anyone you know had any connection or affiliation with the Knights Templar?”
Lazarus shook his head. “Nay. I spent my whole life at the abbey and have never been beyond Berwick. You are on Scottish soil and a long way from home. These must be dangerous men you seek. Should we be afraid?”
“They escaped from a French prison and made off with a fortune in gold and priceless religious artifacts belonging to the Catholic Church,” the guard replied. “We are here on behalf of King Philip the Tall, and have been granted permission by the King of Scotland to search the towns along the English and Scottish border for these fugitives. And if found, to return them to France to stand trial.”
“I wish we could be of assistance, but I know naught of the men you seek,” Lazarus said. “Now if you would be kind enough to let us pass, I
Lazarus focused on the peddler’s cart rather than looking him in the eye. “I have no knowledge of any such men at Ayton Abbey. I have lived there since I was orphaned and left for dead following the Battle of Berwick-upon-Tweed.”
“A dark day in Scottish history,” the vendor said.
“Aye, it was.” Lazarus quickly changed the subject. “I’ll need some oats, several turnips, and an onion.” He paused, then turned to the first vendor. “And a small sack of sugared nuts.” He nodded at Quinn. “Pay the man.”
Quinn opened his money pouch, plucked out pieces of silver, then placed them on the second vendor’s palm. “I hope this is enough. My sister has been ill and I want to make a gift of the sweets.” He nibbled on his lower lip as the man counted the coins.
“Aye, you have plenty and some to spare.” He handed the change back to Quinn, then quickly gathered the purchased items and gave the bundle to Lazarus. “I hope there are no hard feelings.”
“None. But in future, I hope you’ll think before you pass judgement or speak ill of those less fortunate.” Lazarus tucked his purchases under his arm, then glanced down at Quinn. “Let’s be off. Your sister is awaiting your return.”
“Dinna forget your nuts.” The first vendor held a small canvas bag. “I threw in a few extras to make up for my brother’s loose tongue. This way the lad can have some and give the rest to his ailing sister.”
Quinn snatched the sweets and held them protectively against his chest. “Thank you.”
“That was kind of you,” Lazarus acknowledged. “I have no doubt he will enjoy them.”
As they turned to leave, Lazarus stopped dead in his tracks when he came face-to-face with a man wearing the attire of a French Guard—a sight he’d seen often during his incarceration in the palace prison and something he would never forget.
“ Bonjour , friar.”
Lazarus’s mouth went dry when the guard spoke, then he quickly tucked his hands under his arms, hiding the Templar ring he wore and had forgotten to remove before heading into town.
“I see by your attire you are a monk. Might I ask your name?” the guard asked.
Lazarus lowered his gaze, his heart hammering. He had to think fast, but he would not risk putting Quinn in any danger. “I’m not sure why you wish to know, but I’m Brother Thomas,” he lied, hoping the Lord would forgive him, and that Quinn would not contradict him.
“Where are you headed, Brother Thomas?” The guard widened his stance, his hand resting over the hilt of his sword.
“He is taking me home to my sister,” Quinn piped up. “She has been caring for me since my mam died giving birth to me. Sheena has been ill and the brother was kind enough to bring me to town for supplies we need to tide us over until she recovers.”
The guard narrowed his gaze and stared at Lazarus. “Have you or anyone you know had any connection or affiliation with the Knights Templar?”
Lazarus shook his head. “Nay. I spent my whole life at the abbey and have never been beyond Berwick. You are on Scottish soil and a long way from home. These must be dangerous men you seek. Should we be afraid?”
“They escaped from a French prison and made off with a fortune in gold and priceless religious artifacts belonging to the Catholic Church,” the guard replied. “We are here on behalf of King Philip the Tall, and have been granted permission by the King of Scotland to search the towns along the English and Scottish border for these fugitives. And if found, to return them to France to stand trial.”
“I wish we could be of assistance, but I know naught of the men you seek,” Lazarus said. “Now if you would be kind enough to let us pass, I
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