washed
through her.
Merryn
hurried down the stairs and returned to where the men gathered under the tree,
examining it.
“’Tis some
blood on the bark. And here. Some on the ground,” Raynor pointed out. “Mayhap
someone happened by and helped him. But who?”
“And where
is he?” Ferand spat out. “Why not take him on his horse?”
“He knew I
was going for help. He would not have left here,” Merryn insisted. Her stomach
twisted painfully.
“Mayhap
he’s been taken back to Kinwick,” one man suggested.
“Let us
return at once,” Ferand commanded.
They
mounted their horses and rode hard back to the castle. As the hooves echoed,
nausea filled Merryn. Something wasn’t right.
Geoffrey
wasn’t at Kinwick. No one from the gatekeeper to the servants in the Great Hall
had seen him since that morning.
Ferand
immediately organized a group of search parties to go out and hunt for his son.
Raynor took
her aside. “I am a great tracker. I shall find him, Merryn. Never you
worry. Have faith.”
She watched
the men ride out. Hours later, she still stood rooted to the same spot in the
bailey as each group returned with nothing to report. No signs of Geoffrey. Anywhere.
It was as
if he’d vanished off the face of the earth.
CHAPTER 9
Geoffrey
sat under the large oak, dealing with the dull throbbing in his shoulder. He’d quickly
figured out how to breathe in a shallow manner so as not to move his body. It
seemed more an inconvenient ache versus real pain at the moment.
But he knew
that wouldn’t last. Once Merryn returned and had help in removing the arrowhead,
it would be a different story.
She
wouldn’t be gone long. He would pass the time thinking of happier things. He
was grateful to be home from the wars in France. He had married a beautiful,
spirited woman. They had a lifetime ahead of them. He’d been groomed for war
but now at home, his father could tutor him on all the intricacies of running a
vast estate such as Kinwick, for one day he would be its lord and must keep it
thriving.
A snapping
noise drew his attention to where Mystery stood. He watched a stranger step
from the woods. Possibly a soldier from his bearing.
But as the
man approached, something in his eyes told Geoffrey he should not trust him.
“Spot of
trouble yer in? Mayhap I can help.”
He held his
left arm out stiffly, his palm facing the man to halt his progress. “My wife
has gone for help.”
The stranger’s
eyes gleamed. “I know. I saw her leave.”
A rush of
adrenaline flooded him. This man could not be trusted. Then he understood.
“You put
this arrow in me,” he said, his tone flat.
“That I
did, my lord,” the man confirmed, an evil smile playing about his lips. “A nice
crossbow accomplished the task.” He crossed his arms against his broad chest. “Stronger
than a bow and arrow. More force behind it. Had plenty of practice in Aquitaine
with it. You might say I’m a true master of the weapon.”
Geoffrey sensed
something behind him. He turned his head since his body was pinned fast. He
caught a blur—another man—who crashed something into his head with great force.
Bright
stars exploded against a field of black. The world spun about him. A second
blow came.
And then
the darkness.
***
Geoffrey
awakened, a loud roar whirling in his head, making him dizzy and nauseated. His
shoulder screamed out in pain, competing for his attention.
He forced
his eyes open and saw darkness with but small shafts of light around him. A
constant bump jostled him. He was being brought down a flight of stairs.
Into a
dungeon.
He spied a
young boy in front of him and wondered who he was. The boy looked over his
shoulder once, and their eyes met. Then he turned away and hurried down the
last of the stairs.
When they
reached the bottom, the earl of Winterbourne awaited them.
He fought
to make sense of the scene.
“Go. Get
the healer, Hardwin. Be quick about it. And not a word to anyone lest I
through her.
Merryn
hurried down the stairs and returned to where the men gathered under the tree,
examining it.
“’Tis some
blood on the bark. And here. Some on the ground,” Raynor pointed out. “Mayhap
someone happened by and helped him. But who?”
“And where
is he?” Ferand spat out. “Why not take him on his horse?”
“He knew I
was going for help. He would not have left here,” Merryn insisted. Her stomach
twisted painfully.
“Mayhap
he’s been taken back to Kinwick,” one man suggested.
“Let us
return at once,” Ferand commanded.
They
mounted their horses and rode hard back to the castle. As the hooves echoed,
nausea filled Merryn. Something wasn’t right.
Geoffrey
wasn’t at Kinwick. No one from the gatekeeper to the servants in the Great Hall
had seen him since that morning.
Ferand
immediately organized a group of search parties to go out and hunt for his son.
Raynor took
her aside. “I am a great tracker. I shall find him, Merryn. Never you
worry. Have faith.”
She watched
the men ride out. Hours later, she still stood rooted to the same spot in the
bailey as each group returned with nothing to report. No signs of Geoffrey. Anywhere.
It was as
if he’d vanished off the face of the earth.
CHAPTER 9
Geoffrey
sat under the large oak, dealing with the dull throbbing in his shoulder. He’d quickly
figured out how to breathe in a shallow manner so as not to move his body. It
seemed more an inconvenient ache versus real pain at the moment.
But he knew
that wouldn’t last. Once Merryn returned and had help in removing the arrowhead,
it would be a different story.
She
wouldn’t be gone long. He would pass the time thinking of happier things. He
was grateful to be home from the wars in France. He had married a beautiful,
spirited woman. They had a lifetime ahead of them. He’d been groomed for war
but now at home, his father could tutor him on all the intricacies of running a
vast estate such as Kinwick, for one day he would be its lord and must keep it
thriving.
A snapping
noise drew his attention to where Mystery stood. He watched a stranger step
from the woods. Possibly a soldier from his bearing.
But as the
man approached, something in his eyes told Geoffrey he should not trust him.
“Spot of
trouble yer in? Mayhap I can help.”
He held his
left arm out stiffly, his palm facing the man to halt his progress. “My wife
has gone for help.”
The stranger’s
eyes gleamed. “I know. I saw her leave.”
A rush of
adrenaline flooded him. This man could not be trusted. Then he understood.
“You put
this arrow in me,” he said, his tone flat.
“That I
did, my lord,” the man confirmed, an evil smile playing about his lips. “A nice
crossbow accomplished the task.” He crossed his arms against his broad chest. “Stronger
than a bow and arrow. More force behind it. Had plenty of practice in Aquitaine
with it. You might say I’m a true master of the weapon.”
Geoffrey sensed
something behind him. He turned his head since his body was pinned fast. He
caught a blur—another man—who crashed something into his head with great force.
Bright
stars exploded against a field of black. The world spun about him. A second
blow came.
And then
the darkness.
***
Geoffrey
awakened, a loud roar whirling in his head, making him dizzy and nauseated. His
shoulder screamed out in pain, competing for his attention.
He forced
his eyes open and saw darkness with but small shafts of light around him. A
constant bump jostled him. He was being brought down a flight of stairs.
Into a
dungeon.
He spied a
young boy in front of him and wondered who he was. The boy looked over his
shoulder once, and their eyes met. Then he turned away and hurried down the
last of the stairs.
When they
reached the bottom, the earl of Winterbourne awaited them.
He fought
to make sense of the scene.
“Go. Get
the healer, Hardwin. Be quick about it. And not a word to anyone lest I
Similar Books
