The Tempest by Charlotte Hawkins Page B

wandering about in search of trouble…but they would find more than they’d bargained for, if he had anything to do with it.
    Criminal scum. Time served in the dungeons is too kind. A knife to the throat or the gullet would serve them better.
    But as he approached, he saw it wasn’t peasants at all. It was three Nottingham guards…and if there was anything more useless than the poor, it was Briwere’s men. At least peasants could be put to work. What were the guards, other than to be expendable. And right then, the worthless fools were ransacking Robert DeWarren’s animal pen. One guard was forcing chickens into a burlap sack, while another held Robert back to keep him from struggling…and the third guard was leading a horse out of the barn.
    His horse . He heard their drunken glee at finding such a prize.
    “Well, mates! Look here at what I found! He will fetch a proper price, won’t he?”
    The man holding Robert twisted the old man’s arm tighter, chuckling at the painful gasp it produced. Spitting on the side of his captive’s face, he sneered at him. “Tell us, old man. Where did a lowly peasant like you get such a fine beast?”
    Guy’s voice came from the dark.
    “He is mine.”
    The guard who held Robert tried to turn and look at who had spoken…but a moment later a dagger was thrust up between his shoulder blades, piercing his lung, killing him instantly. Mouth wide open, eyes wide in shock, his body fell to the ground as Guy pulled out the knife…and trained his eyes on his next target. The guard who held his horse stood frozen in fear, eyes huge with shock, as he looked upon the face of his long lost master. Just before he reached the petrified man, Guy could suddenly smell the stench of piss…evidence of a man who was certain he was being confronted by a spirit. The guard fell to his knees, begging for mercy.
    “Spare me, ghost! Spare me!”
    He was silenced by a violent twist of the neck and the snap of bone, and the next moment he lay dead on the ground. Guy turned for his third victim, who was staring in bald shock and slowly backing away, preparing to flee. Knowing he was in no condition to run, Guy still moved forward in pursuit…until a shadow appeared from the darkness. Then there was the sound of iron meeting a human skull, and the guard crumbled to the ground. As the form came closer Guy realized it was Cassia, who held her skillet in her hand. He scowled at her as she came to the side of her father, who had fallen to his knees. Guy’s eyes narrowed in anger at her.
    “I thought I told you to stay inside.”
    Her words were defiant. “As if your commands mean anything to me.”
    She put her arms around her father, slowly helping him to his feet. While she led him back to the house, Guy examined his horse and found the animal to brcin. He glanced around, his eyes focusing on the bodies of the three guards. Two would have to be buried. The third he wasn’t sure of. Was the man alive or dead? In all honesty he didn’t care either way. But he knew he couldn’t leave corpses lying around to be discovered.
    He saw his horse settled, and returned the chickens to their pen. Then he slowly dragged each of the two dead men into the woods, throwing leaves and brush over their bodies. They wouldn’t be missed, and in all likelihood they would become a feast for some wild animals before anyone even gave them a thought.
    Dragging himself back towards the property, his foot throbbing viciously from overuse, he looked about for the third guard…and found he was nowhere in sight. For several minutes he scanned the area, but he knew that the guard had probably come to life and was likely headed back to Nottingham in a hurry. Would the man remember what, or more particularly, who he had seen? Would anyone even believe the rambling of a drunken guard? Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought altogether, too exhausted and in too much pain to think of anything but getting back to the house.
    As he