guards, who seemed not to understand the greatest danger was not the horns, but the crushing weight of the beast when it fell. Robert staggered blindly, dropping the lance in his terror, one hand over his face.
With a roar, Thomas ran at the stag, and with a powerful spring, leapt half on the stag's back, keeping his head well down, away from the thrashing rack. His weight, together with the dog still attached to his throat, finally brought the beast down—away from Robert.
Feeling the beast's collapse, Thomas leapt free, his dagger flying from his hand. He saw Harry rush forward, and with a sword thrust, put the beast to death.
In the sudden stillness, Thomas, breathing hard from the chase, stared at Robert with fury. "It might have been you on the ground there."
Robert dropped his hand, and Thomas saw the smear of blood over his face. "Not if your hell-born hound had not come between us!"
Resolutely, Thomas turned from him, too angry at what might have been to speak. Meanwhile, his pup bounded over, a great grin on his stained muzzle, and Thomas bent down to give him the attention he craved—and deserved—after his performance. The dog would be a treasure when his training had been finished. "Well done, boy!"
Harry and the other guard knelt over the stag to begin the business of skinning and quartering the beast. Harry gave a chortle. "He'll feed the whole village!"
Thomas put the dangerous finale from his mind. He would deal with Robert later. "Aye," he said. "Let's take him whole, to roast."
The bailey smelled of baking bread and clear summer morning, and Lyssa was happily plucking flowers from the garden to weave into a wreath for her head when a messenger rode through the gates. At the sound of the horse, she glanced up from the wreath of spicy pink-and-white gillyflowers. Spying the king's crest, she jumped up and ran to meet the messenger, her heart pounding with mingled hope and worry. If he'd a husband for Isobel, she would be happy. If it was news of a bridegroom for Lyssa, she would be wretched.
She took the letter, sealed with the king's ring, and directed the messenger—a hearty, dark-haired man who bowed deeply when Isobel, all flying hair and bobbing breasts, ran over to see what news had come—to find refreshment in the hall. Isobel barely noticed him—and he a noble lord with a fine face! "See to his comfort," Lyssa said.
"But what news?"
"What do you await with such eagerness?"
Isobel sighed. "Oh, why must you ever be so difficult? 'Tis not as if we have any great excitement here. Mayhap the king will come to visit, and bring music and laughter and young men with him."
Lyssa waved the messenger on. He cast one last longing glance toward the flushed Isobel, and left them.
"Will you stand all the day holding it in your hand, or will you open it?"
Lyssa sent a silent prayer winging toward heaven—
let it be her and not me
!—then slipped a nail beneath the wax and unfolded the good parchment.
My
dear cousin
,
I have good news. That step-daughter you spoke of is famed for her beauty, so it was no trouble to
find willing suitors. I have chosen Stephen de Kivelsworthy to be her groom. He is well-landed, a fine knight
—
and he is a young pretty thing himself, so mayhap that will please her. He leaves today for Woodell, with a retinue of guardsmen to protect you all
.
As for you, I have me a hunch you have no love of marriage and will not mind I have had me not an hour to devote to the matter of a husband to safeguard your lands. Soon.
Lyssa let go of her breath, and gave Isobel a beaming smile. "Good news," she said. "The king has found you a husband!"
"A husband?" Isobel's dainty brows drew down. "I have no wish for a husband."
"Oh, not just any man," she said. "Stephen de Kivelsworthy, whom Edward said is young and pretty and will please you."
Isobel backed up. "No! I will not marry him."
"Can you not even wait to see him before you reject him? Mayhap—"
"No!" She whirled and
With a roar, Thomas ran at the stag, and with a powerful spring, leapt half on the stag's back, keeping his head well down, away from the thrashing rack. His weight, together with the dog still attached to his throat, finally brought the beast down—away from Robert.
Feeling the beast's collapse, Thomas leapt free, his dagger flying from his hand. He saw Harry rush forward, and with a sword thrust, put the beast to death.
In the sudden stillness, Thomas, breathing hard from the chase, stared at Robert with fury. "It might have been you on the ground there."
Robert dropped his hand, and Thomas saw the smear of blood over his face. "Not if your hell-born hound had not come between us!"
Resolutely, Thomas turned from him, too angry at what might have been to speak. Meanwhile, his pup bounded over, a great grin on his stained muzzle, and Thomas bent down to give him the attention he craved—and deserved—after his performance. The dog would be a treasure when his training had been finished. "Well done, boy!"
Harry and the other guard knelt over the stag to begin the business of skinning and quartering the beast. Harry gave a chortle. "He'll feed the whole village!"
Thomas put the dangerous finale from his mind. He would deal with Robert later. "Aye," he said. "Let's take him whole, to roast."
The bailey smelled of baking bread and clear summer morning, and Lyssa was happily plucking flowers from the garden to weave into a wreath for her head when a messenger rode through the gates. At the sound of the horse, she glanced up from the wreath of spicy pink-and-white gillyflowers. Spying the king's crest, she jumped up and ran to meet the messenger, her heart pounding with mingled hope and worry. If he'd a husband for Isobel, she would be happy. If it was news of a bridegroom for Lyssa, she would be wretched.
She took the letter, sealed with the king's ring, and directed the messenger—a hearty, dark-haired man who bowed deeply when Isobel, all flying hair and bobbing breasts, ran over to see what news had come—to find refreshment in the hall. Isobel barely noticed him—and he a noble lord with a fine face! "See to his comfort," Lyssa said.
"But what news?"
"What do you await with such eagerness?"
Isobel sighed. "Oh, why must you ever be so difficult? 'Tis not as if we have any great excitement here. Mayhap the king will come to visit, and bring music and laughter and young men with him."
Lyssa waved the messenger on. He cast one last longing glance toward the flushed Isobel, and left them.
"Will you stand all the day holding it in your hand, or will you open it?"
Lyssa sent a silent prayer winging toward heaven—
let it be her and not me
!—then slipped a nail beneath the wax and unfolded the good parchment.
My
dear cousin
,
I have good news. That step-daughter you spoke of is famed for her beauty, so it was no trouble to
find willing suitors. I have chosen Stephen de Kivelsworthy to be her groom. He is well-landed, a fine knight
—
and he is a young pretty thing himself, so mayhap that will please her. He leaves today for Woodell, with a retinue of guardsmen to protect you all
.
As for you, I have me a hunch you have no love of marriage and will not mind I have had me not an hour to devote to the matter of a husband to safeguard your lands. Soon.
Lyssa let go of her breath, and gave Isobel a beaming smile. "Good news," she said. "The king has found you a husband!"
"A husband?" Isobel's dainty brows drew down. "I have no wish for a husband."
"Oh, not just any man," she said. "Stephen de Kivelsworthy, whom Edward said is young and pretty and will please you."
Isobel backed up. "No! I will not marry him."
"Can you not even wait to see him before you reject him? Mayhap—"
"No!" She whirled and
Similar Books
