Read Online The Forgotten War by Howard Sargent - Free Book Online

infernal embroidery which Catherine seemed to like so much. Her father, though, was another case entirely, doting on
her whenever time allowed. She was a thin, slight girl, different to her sisters and he always seemed to think that she needed extra protection. Her mother frowned on all this, believing that
indulgence was wasted on a girl whose only duty in life was to marry properly. This was why it seemed to Ceriana a slight betrayal on her father’s part that he should be discussing marrying
her off. She did understand that he would have to do something about it eventually but she had hoped for a couple more years before the inevitable happened.
    She squinted ahead of her. The castle drawbridge was lowered as usual so the ditch surrounding the castle could be crossed; it could be filled with water in times of war, she had heard, although
she had never seen it herself. Over the ditch the drawbridge connected to a cobbled road which ran straight ahead for nearly a mile; either side of it were many tightly packed ramshackle cottages.
A castle supported a whole community of craftsmen, labourers, vintners, butchers, cheese-makers and other suppliers of goods and provender, and they all had to live somewhere. Doren’s family
home was among them, although she stayed in the castle most nights now her children were older. Eventually the road bent eastwards behind a low hill and it was here that most eyes were
directed.
    Then, just as Ceriana’s fingers were so cold that she imagined them as stalactites in a cave, she saw them.
    Two horsemen, mailed in bright silver, lances held high so their pennants flew proudly in the breeze, were the first people to emerge from behind the hill. More similarly attired knights brought
up the rear of the column, but between them were other horsemen, not armoured but wearing rich velvet doublets of varying colour, partially concealed under heavy riding cloaks. At their head and
becoming more recognisable as he drew nearer was a tall man in a black cloak, trousers and riding boots. His face was characterful, strong and stern, lined in such a manner as to give an impression
not so much of age but of power and experience. His still brown hair and eyes marked him as a Hartfield, characteristics that had been passed on to his youngest daughter, though not to his son, who
was altogether darker. As he passed by the houses lining the road, people, both young and old, came out and cheered; some women even threw flowers on to the road before him and so it was that
Nicholas, forty-third Duke of Hartfield, returned home.
    Ceriana ducked under her mother’s restraining arm and ran towards the horses as they finished crossing the drawbridge. ‘Father!’ she called, her face flushed despite
herself.
    He reined in his horse, swung himself off the saddle and went to meet her. ‘Ah, you are wearing your brooch, my little one.’
    ‘Of course, Father, you know it is my favourite.’ She inhaled the scents of horse, leather and sweat and thought them the best in the world.
    ‘Oh well, if you already have a favourite, then there is no point giving you this.’ He opened a gloved hand and held out his latest acquisition for her. There, dangling on a chain of
pure gold, was a brilliant-blue sapphire. The sun, which now shone brightly on the courtyard, made its many facets glitter like the feathers on an Erskon kingfisher. She barely suppressed a
squeal.
    ‘Thank you, Father. That is so beautiful. Where did you get it?’
    ‘A gift from Ludo Gerlig. His estates include mines in the Derannen Mountains where it was found.’
    ‘Quite a gift, Father; I hope it didn’t come at a price.’
    ‘Everything comes at a price, my dear,’ he said. Although she was still focusing on the gem, the look of regret that fleetingly crossed his face as he spoke did not escape her.
‘Now, I have business to attend to with Berek and your mother. You and Lady Catherine can go back indoors and I will speak to you