you my word that not even a beast will be able to dig up her bones.”
Garcia’s arm shot out. The palm of his hand connected with David’s cheek with such speed and force that he lost his footing and stumbled backwards. David planted his feet firmly on the ground and instinctively protected the infant by placing both arms around his body. His heavy breathing slowed. Were it not for the baby, he would have had his sword out of its belt and into Garcia’s chest, damning the consequences.
Garcia’s skin reddened. He spread his lips in an ugly scowl, and bearing his teeth, he whispered ferociously. “You’re an idiot peasant! You were told to kill all the occupants and leave them where they lay – leave them where they lay! Who are you to disobey His Grace? He’ll be furious, and he’ll blame me for your insubordination.”
Good. Let him blame you, punish you, and kill you , David wanted to say. “My apologies …”
“You should have left the dead child where it lay, you fool,” Garcia repeated.
Lies didn’t slip easily off David’s tongue, but he’d practiced his explanation on the way up, saying the words aloud until he’d felt comfortable with the sound of them. Straightening his shoulders, he said, “And how is Your Honour to explain one missing child when there were two in the house? Surely it makes more sense to give the impression that both siblings have been abducted. To steal away one and kill another, at such a young age, might bring even more questions as to the reason the boy child was specifically taken. The townspeople will believe this crime to be child abduction for monetary gain, for this is exactly what I made it look like.”
As though feeling David’s thumping heartbeat, the infant stirred and began to wail. David rocked him gently whilst trying to control his mounting rage.
Garcia thought about what had just been said. He did not suffer fools and was a suspicious man by nature. Life and people had taught him that no man could be trusted and that loyalty came at a high price. He disliked Luis Peráto and all the arse lickers that surrounded him. The duke was a dim-witted man with the whims of a petted child. Why was he allowing the militiaman to live? He had asked Peráto that question and had not received an answer. Had it been his decision to make, Sanz would have been killed the moment he’d stepped under the half-drawn portcullis with the infant. He’d served his purpose, and now he was a liability.
The duke was a gullible fool and, like most nobles, was self-centred and unable to understand a common peasant’s mind. Peráto’s views of the world around him were amusing, for the duke believed that his townspeople wanted nothing more from life than to serve him. They were pack mules, born and bred to carry his load, he was fond of saying.
Garcia was a commoner. He understood the common man, his suffering, and his aspirations. He also knew that many Sagratans blamed Peráto for their present misfortunes. Commerce was dwindling under the burden of higher taxations. Work of any kind was hard to come by for even the most gifted tradesmen, yet the duke ignored his people’s misery. He was too busy planning a future as Valencia’s viceroy to turn his mind to the beggars on the street and the growing number of women selling their bodies so that they could feed their children. Luis Peráto sickened him, not because he was unkind to his townspeople but because he was stupid.
Garcia stared at David, trying to decide whether the man was foolish enough to lie. There was no respect in Sanz’s steely gaze. Being struck had not seemed to cow him one whit. If anything, the man was being openly disrespectful. “How can I be sure the girl’s dead unless I see the grave and her body for myself?”
“You can’t.”
“If you’re lying to me, it will be the death of you. You don’t strike me as a man who wishes to lose his life over a mere child,” Garcia said, voicing his
Garcia’s arm shot out. The palm of his hand connected with David’s cheek with such speed and force that he lost his footing and stumbled backwards. David planted his feet firmly on the ground and instinctively protected the infant by placing both arms around his body. His heavy breathing slowed. Were it not for the baby, he would have had his sword out of its belt and into Garcia’s chest, damning the consequences.
Garcia’s skin reddened. He spread his lips in an ugly scowl, and bearing his teeth, he whispered ferociously. “You’re an idiot peasant! You were told to kill all the occupants and leave them where they lay – leave them where they lay! Who are you to disobey His Grace? He’ll be furious, and he’ll blame me for your insubordination.”
Good. Let him blame you, punish you, and kill you , David wanted to say. “My apologies …”
“You should have left the dead child where it lay, you fool,” Garcia repeated.
Lies didn’t slip easily off David’s tongue, but he’d practiced his explanation on the way up, saying the words aloud until he’d felt comfortable with the sound of them. Straightening his shoulders, he said, “And how is Your Honour to explain one missing child when there were two in the house? Surely it makes more sense to give the impression that both siblings have been abducted. To steal away one and kill another, at such a young age, might bring even more questions as to the reason the boy child was specifically taken. The townspeople will believe this crime to be child abduction for monetary gain, for this is exactly what I made it look like.”
As though feeling David’s thumping heartbeat, the infant stirred and began to wail. David rocked him gently whilst trying to control his mounting rage.
Garcia thought about what had just been said. He did not suffer fools and was a suspicious man by nature. Life and people had taught him that no man could be trusted and that loyalty came at a high price. He disliked Luis Peráto and all the arse lickers that surrounded him. The duke was a dim-witted man with the whims of a petted child. Why was he allowing the militiaman to live? He had asked Peráto that question and had not received an answer. Had it been his decision to make, Sanz would have been killed the moment he’d stepped under the half-drawn portcullis with the infant. He’d served his purpose, and now he was a liability.
The duke was a gullible fool and, like most nobles, was self-centred and unable to understand a common peasant’s mind. Peráto’s views of the world around him were amusing, for the duke believed that his townspeople wanted nothing more from life than to serve him. They were pack mules, born and bred to carry his load, he was fond of saying.
Garcia was a commoner. He understood the common man, his suffering, and his aspirations. He also knew that many Sagratans blamed Peráto for their present misfortunes. Commerce was dwindling under the burden of higher taxations. Work of any kind was hard to come by for even the most gifted tradesmen, yet the duke ignored his people’s misery. He was too busy planning a future as Valencia’s viceroy to turn his mind to the beggars on the street and the growing number of women selling their bodies so that they could feed their children. Luis Peráto sickened him, not because he was unkind to his townspeople but because he was stupid.
Garcia stared at David, trying to decide whether the man was foolish enough to lie. There was no respect in Sanz’s steely gaze. Being struck had not seemed to cow him one whit. If anything, the man was being openly disrespectful. “How can I be sure the girl’s dead unless I see the grave and her body for myself?”
“You can’t.”
“If you’re lying to me, it will be the death of you. You don’t strike me as a man who wishes to lose his life over a mere child,” Garcia said, voicing his
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