Read Online Jennifer August by Knight of the Mist - Free Book Online
Authors: Knight of the Mist
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by Marcus.
“Open the gates,” Quinn yelled to the guards, and the wooden portcullis creaked and moaned in protest as it obeyed the pull of the ropes. Four horsemen rode at the front and three colorful patchwork cargo wagons lumbered in behind them, with still more riders at the rear. The wagons contained his household possessions and items Quinn knew his mother sent from Terre D’Eglace, his boyhood home.
“God in Heaven, we’re being invaded by gypsies,” a maid whispered behind Quinn. He laughed and shook his head, but did not explain. The wagons stopped in the courtyard and his people poured forth, yelling and tossing ropes to each other. The unloading began quickly and Quinn knew a moment’s satisfaction he would spend his wedding night surrounded by his own hard won treasures. And he would be able to offer his betrothed a bridal price sure to please even her.
“Ho, Quinn.” Temple rounded from behind one of the wagons, his long, oak-like legs eating the distance with alacrity. “Still going through with it?”
“Aye,” Quinn said, even as he steeled himself.
Seconds later, the huge Scot wrapped him in a hug and lifted him off the ground. Air squeezed out and he could not pull it back in.
He almost collapsed when Temple released him at last.
“Ach, lad, you’re getting weak in this damn English air,” Temple said with a snort.
Quinn shoulder-butted the taller man, pleased when he grunted and gave a few inches.
“All right, perhaps not. Give it time, though. This foul air canna be good for you.” Temple ’s shaggy brows knitted together and he looked past him. “Marcus, you son of a sot.”
“At least my mother never mated with a sheep, you great beast.”
Temple roared with laughter and clapped a large, meaty hand to his shoulder. Marcus swayed under the pressure, but Quinn noted with pride he remained upright.
The dark gaze turned back to him. “So, you’re truly going to see this through, my lord?”
“Aye, Temple . Would I be here otherwise?” Quinn asked dryly.
“Nay,” his vassal chuckled. “Indeed you would not, king’s command or no.”
Quinn looked at him sharply, warning him to hold his tongue. The people of Falcon Fire that surrounded them were not all pleased to have a new lord. Any hint of their true mission would only infuriate the dissenters more.
Quinn slapped Temple on the back as they headed toward the chapel, the thrum of excitement singing through him. ‘Twas as though the threads of destiny all wove together to form this moment, this place, this bond. Though she could not realize it, Lady Stirling held the key to his future. And with that key, he could finally lock away his past.
The large chapel burst at the seams with people crowding its hallowed halls. Every pew seat, save the front two, were occupied with happy, beaming vassals and knights, while Falcon Fire’s joyful villagers stood shoulder to shoulder at the rear, some even spilling into the courtyard. He made the right choice with Stirling , he thought in satisfaction. Not only was her army fiercely loyal, but her villagers, serfs and servants were as well. And, if he gambled correctly, they would, eventually, include him in that loyalty.
Falcon Fire’s red and black standard hung proudly above the stone altar. William’s banner jutted from the left as did, Quinn realized in amazement, his own colors of silver and blue. Four page boys stiffly lined the wall beneath the banners, horns at the ready. He grinned and pushed his way to the front of the chapel, where a white-haired man paced restlessly. The priest wore the black flowing robes of the clergy, his waist encircled by a wide ribbon of scarlet.
“Father? I am Quinn de Trefoid.”
The priest stopped mid-stride and looked him up and down, lips pursed and eyes thoughtful. He poked a bony finger in Quinn’s direction. “So you are the Avenger. Have you made your peace with the Lord, Sir Knight?”
Quinn raised a brow at the man’s
“Open the gates,” Quinn yelled to the guards, and the wooden portcullis creaked and moaned in protest as it obeyed the pull of the ropes. Four horsemen rode at the front and three colorful patchwork cargo wagons lumbered in behind them, with still more riders at the rear. The wagons contained his household possessions and items Quinn knew his mother sent from Terre D’Eglace, his boyhood home.
“God in Heaven, we’re being invaded by gypsies,” a maid whispered behind Quinn. He laughed and shook his head, but did not explain. The wagons stopped in the courtyard and his people poured forth, yelling and tossing ropes to each other. The unloading began quickly and Quinn knew a moment’s satisfaction he would spend his wedding night surrounded by his own hard won treasures. And he would be able to offer his betrothed a bridal price sure to please even her.
“Ho, Quinn.” Temple rounded from behind one of the wagons, his long, oak-like legs eating the distance with alacrity. “Still going through with it?”
“Aye,” Quinn said, even as he steeled himself.
Seconds later, the huge Scot wrapped him in a hug and lifted him off the ground. Air squeezed out and he could not pull it back in.
He almost collapsed when Temple released him at last.
“Ach, lad, you’re getting weak in this damn English air,” Temple said with a snort.
Quinn shoulder-butted the taller man, pleased when he grunted and gave a few inches.
“All right, perhaps not. Give it time, though. This foul air canna be good for you.” Temple ’s shaggy brows knitted together and he looked past him. “Marcus, you son of a sot.”
“At least my mother never mated with a sheep, you great beast.”
Temple roared with laughter and clapped a large, meaty hand to his shoulder. Marcus swayed under the pressure, but Quinn noted with pride he remained upright.
The dark gaze turned back to him. “So, you’re truly going to see this through, my lord?”
“Aye, Temple . Would I be here otherwise?” Quinn asked dryly.
“Nay,” his vassal chuckled. “Indeed you would not, king’s command or no.”
Quinn looked at him sharply, warning him to hold his tongue. The people of Falcon Fire that surrounded them were not all pleased to have a new lord. Any hint of their true mission would only infuriate the dissenters more.
Quinn slapped Temple on the back as they headed toward the chapel, the thrum of excitement singing through him. ‘Twas as though the threads of destiny all wove together to form this moment, this place, this bond. Though she could not realize it, Lady Stirling held the key to his future. And with that key, he could finally lock away his past.
The large chapel burst at the seams with people crowding its hallowed halls. Every pew seat, save the front two, were occupied with happy, beaming vassals and knights, while Falcon Fire’s joyful villagers stood shoulder to shoulder at the rear, some even spilling into the courtyard. He made the right choice with Stirling , he thought in satisfaction. Not only was her army fiercely loyal, but her villagers, serfs and servants were as well. And, if he gambled correctly, they would, eventually, include him in that loyalty.
Falcon Fire’s red and black standard hung proudly above the stone altar. William’s banner jutted from the left as did, Quinn realized in amazement, his own colors of silver and blue. Four page boys stiffly lined the wall beneath the banners, horns at the ready. He grinned and pushed his way to the front of the chapel, where a white-haired man paced restlessly. The priest wore the black flowing robes of the clergy, his waist encircled by a wide ribbon of scarlet.
“Father? I am Quinn de Trefoid.”
The priest stopped mid-stride and looked him up and down, lips pursed and eyes thoughtful. He poked a bony finger in Quinn’s direction. “So you are the Avenger. Have you made your peace with the Lord, Sir Knight?”
Quinn raised a brow at the man’s
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