Read Online On My Lady's Honor (All for one, and one for all) by Kate Silver - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Silver
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the morning and unbound them again in the evening.
She was in no danger from Lamotte. She would learn everything she could learn from her enemy and, God willing, she would eventually use her hard-won knowledge to defeat her teacher. Then would her brother be avenged on his false friend and his ghost would sleep easier in the grave.
Lamotte noticed immediately when Gerard started to watch him practice his swordplay once more. However early he was at the fencing ring to practice his thrusts and feints, Gerard was there before him, waiting with hungry eyes watching his every move, just as he had when the boy had first arrived in Paris nearly two years ago.
This time, however, Lamotte did not rush in to offer his services as tutor to his old friend. Since the day that Gerard had tried to kill him, the two of them had more or less studiously ignored each other.
He was biding his time – sure that if he left Gerard alone, the boy would come to him in the end. He would find out sooner or later why the lad hated him with such intensity. In the meantime, he contented himself with watching his back whenever his former friend was around.
His skill with the sword had always been the lodestone that attracted Gerard. It seemed that the magnet had lost none of its power and that the attraction was still there, despite the hatred that festered in the lad’s heart for him. He was not surprised when his old friend approached him one day after fencing practice.
Gerard looked directly at him with those blue eyes that were so clearly Gerard’s and yet not Gerard’s. “Teach me how to fight.” A demand, not a question. How like a boy he was still, with his smooth, pink cheeks and his awkward ways. He would lay a wager that Gerard still had no need for a razor to keep his chin smooth.
He grabbed his towel from where it hung on the fence and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The weather showed no signs of cooling yet and fighting in the heat was hard work. Thank the Lord that his wounds had healed well and no longer slowed him down so much. They had left his skin feeling tight and puckered down one side, but they no longer pained him except when it rained. He moved his shoulders in a circular motion, feeling the muscles stretch and pull. In time he would regain more of the flexibility he had lost. He would have to be patient. “Why should I do that?”
Gerard shrugged his shoulders and shuffled his feet in the dirt, not looking him in the eyes. “Because I need to learn, and you’re the best swordsman in the barracks.”
He drank deeply of the water from his flask and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Gerard had used exactly those words the first time he had asked to be taught, and in exactly the same tone. There was no flattery in it – it was simply as if his skill was a matter of fact. He shook his head. He could not put his finger on why he was so uneasy in Gerard’s company, but the lad still troubled him.
“You do not want to teach me?” Gerard sounded more determined than distressed.
Maybe some lessons would give him the time he needed to unravel the mystery of Gerard’s sudden change of attitude towards him. “Come. Put up your sword.”
Gerard’s mouth dropped open. “Now?”
“Is there any better time?”
Gerard gave a tremor. “I suppose not.” He drew his sword and held it in front of him as if it were a charm against evil.
After a few minutes of cut and thrust, Lamotte tossed his sword up into the air and caught it in his left hand. He could not believe how Gerard’s skill with the sword had so utterly disappeared over the past six months. “Have you forgotten everything I ever taught you?” he asked in puzzlement, as Gerard failed to protect himself from the most simple feint.
Gerard tripped over his feet and righted himself with a curse. “I was sick. I had the plague.”
The excuses made
She was in no danger from Lamotte. She would learn everything she could learn from her enemy and, God willing, she would eventually use her hard-won knowledge to defeat her teacher. Then would her brother be avenged on his false friend and his ghost would sleep easier in the grave.
Lamotte noticed immediately when Gerard started to watch him practice his swordplay once more. However early he was at the fencing ring to practice his thrusts and feints, Gerard was there before him, waiting with hungry eyes watching his every move, just as he had when the boy had first arrived in Paris nearly two years ago.
This time, however, Lamotte did not rush in to offer his services as tutor to his old friend. Since the day that Gerard had tried to kill him, the two of them had more or less studiously ignored each other.
He was biding his time – sure that if he left Gerard alone, the boy would come to him in the end. He would find out sooner or later why the lad hated him with such intensity. In the meantime, he contented himself with watching his back whenever his former friend was around.
His skill with the sword had always been the lodestone that attracted Gerard. It seemed that the magnet had lost none of its power and that the attraction was still there, despite the hatred that festered in the lad’s heart for him. He was not surprised when his old friend approached him one day after fencing practice.
Gerard looked directly at him with those blue eyes that were so clearly Gerard’s and yet not Gerard’s. “Teach me how to fight.” A demand, not a question. How like a boy he was still, with his smooth, pink cheeks and his awkward ways. He would lay a wager that Gerard still had no need for a razor to keep his chin smooth.
He grabbed his towel from where it hung on the fence and wiped the sweat off his forehead. The weather showed no signs of cooling yet and fighting in the heat was hard work. Thank the Lord that his wounds had healed well and no longer slowed him down so much. They had left his skin feeling tight and puckered down one side, but they no longer pained him except when it rained. He moved his shoulders in a circular motion, feeling the muscles stretch and pull. In time he would regain more of the flexibility he had lost. He would have to be patient. “Why should I do that?”
Gerard shrugged his shoulders and shuffled his feet in the dirt, not looking him in the eyes. “Because I need to learn, and you’re the best swordsman in the barracks.”
He drank deeply of the water from his flask and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Gerard had used exactly those words the first time he had asked to be taught, and in exactly the same tone. There was no flattery in it – it was simply as if his skill was a matter of fact. He shook his head. He could not put his finger on why he was so uneasy in Gerard’s company, but the lad still troubled him.
“You do not want to teach me?” Gerard sounded more determined than distressed.
Maybe some lessons would give him the time he needed to unravel the mystery of Gerard’s sudden change of attitude towards him. “Come. Put up your sword.”
Gerard’s mouth dropped open. “Now?”
“Is there any better time?”
Gerard gave a tremor. “I suppose not.” He drew his sword and held it in front of him as if it were a charm against evil.
After a few minutes of cut and thrust, Lamotte tossed his sword up into the air and caught it in his left hand. He could not believe how Gerard’s skill with the sword had so utterly disappeared over the past six months. “Have you forgotten everything I ever taught you?” he asked in puzzlement, as Gerard failed to protect himself from the most simple feint.
Gerard tripped over his feet and righted himself with a curse. “I was sick. I had the plague.”
The excuses made
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