Knight's Ransom. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ of thirty men-at-arms trotted onto the field, led by a pair of knights. Between them rode a woman dressed in blue velvet. Gold chain glinted at her neck and waist; a fortune in pearls banded the hem of her skirts.

      “Mama!” Catherine Sommerville cried.

      Bernard stopped and looked back just as the lady drew rein before Ruarke and their daughter. “This is a pleasant surprise, my love.” Ruarke’s powerful baritone had dropped to an intimate purr. His austere features glowed with the joy usually seen on small children at feasts.

      “You received a message from the king,” the wife said.

      “What does Edward want?”

      She cocked her head. “What makes you think I read it?”

      “Because I know you.” He leaned forward in the saddle and gave his wife a surprisingly passionate kiss…considering they had likely been wed for many years.

      Bernard watched with interest this confirmation of his earlier theory that the fierce warrior had an uncommon fondness for his daughter and wife. ‘Twas the sort of weakness he had learned to identify and then turn to his advantage.

      “I did read it,” the wife admitted when Ruarke released her. “We are called home to England.”

      “What?” Ruarke shouted. “But we’ve only just gotten here.”

      The lady’s sigh was audible over the shifting of onlookers anxious for a bit of court gossip. “The Black Prince’s health has taken a turn for the worse and he would speak with you. Princess Joan needs me to come and bolster her spirits.”

      Ruarke scowled as he looked around the field at the horses. “I’ll go, of course, but…”

      “I would be honored to stay and see to your business here,” said Sir Philippe.

      “My thanks. We had a devil of a time getting this lot here, and I’d just as soon not ship them back home.”

      “What of me?” Catherine edged her mount closer to the center of the discussion. “Must I leave before the tourney?”

      “Absolutely,” her father said. “I’d not leave you here unguarded.” His voice dropped off to a whisper, but Bernard was adept at reading lips. “Not after what happened with Henry.”

      The girl flinched, and her chin came up. “That was two years ago. I’m older…and wiser. What say you, Mama?”

      “I hate to cheat you of the spectacle.” She turned to smile at her daughter, and Bernard got his first good look at Ruarke Sommerville’s wife.

      The shock of recognition punched the air from his lungs. “Mon Dieu…” he gasped.

      “What ails you?” Maslin growled in his ear. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

      His henchman’s words broke the spell, awakened Bernard to the danger. “Aye. I have.” Trembling with disbelief, he spun around and tucked his chin into the neck of his cloak. A shiver worked its way down his spine as he pulled the cowl over his head for good measure. “I thought she was dead. She should be dead.” He quaked again. “How comes she to be here, wed to Sommerville?”

      “Who?”

      “My sister.”

      “Your sister? Where?” Maslin looked around.

      Bernard grabbed his arm and shoved him in the direction of their horses. “Come. We must get out of here. Gabrielle might recognize me, though it’s been years, and I’ve…aged. She hasn’t, though. She’s still as beautiful as ever. The bitch.”

      By the time they reached their mounts, Bernard had pulled himself together. “We will ride back to the inn,” he said. “Slowly, as though naught had happened.”

      “What will we do then?” Maslin asked, fascinated by the change in his usually fearless master.

      “We will pray Gabrielle didn’t recognize me. Tomorrow we will return to Toulouse and gather my men.”

      “Without Sommerville’s horses?”

      “They’ll do me no good if Gabrielle recognizes me. It’s been nineteen years since I tried to kill the Black Prince, but the English still have a price on my head.”

      “What will we do for coin, then, rob a merchant or sack a nunnery?” Maslin asked, knowing neither would yield much.

      “We could kidnap Sommerville’s daughter and hold her to ransom,” Bernard said softly.

      Maslin stopped mid-stride. “What?”

      “We’ll take the daughter. You’ve seen how Ruarke values her and his wife. Much as I’d enjoy having Gabrielle as a hostage, she’s leaving for England. But Catherine…Did you hear if the spoiled brat had cajoled permission to stay behind?”

      “Aye. At least I think so.” Maslin risked another look. “His men will guard her even more diligently than the horses.”

      “True, but once the tourney starts, they’ll be busy.”

      “We’re returning for the tourney? I thought you said there were people coming who might recognize you.”

      “So there are. But none will know my nephew.”

      “Gervase? How will you get him here? He has done naught this past year but slave to rebuild that stupid keep of his.”

      “‘Tis for exactly that reason Gervase will come. He hates the English even more fervently than I do. With good reason. They destroyed everything he held dear.” Bernard grinned. “He’ll get the girl and bring her to me.”

       Chapter One

       Bordeaux, France

       August 20, 1375

      ‘Twas four nights before the tourney, and the great hall of the castle was packed to capacity. Knights drawn from as far away as Italy by the promise of blood sport and rich prizes mingled with men too old to fight and ladies who had come in search of a more intimate sort of adventure. The light of a thousand flambeaux shimmered on their silken garments, winked off the golden chains hung around their necks and the precious gems banding their gowns and surcoats. Two stories above the glittering crowd, the banners of French cities captured by the English fluttered in silent testimony to the long, costly struggle waged between the two countries. Ended now by the peace treaty just concluded.

      Peace! Gervase St. Juste spat onto the ground beneath the open window where he’d paused to take stock before entering his enemy’s stronghold and presenting himself to John, Duke of Lancaster. He’d not know peace while his people still suffered.

      “Can you pick her out in this press?” Perrin asked, straining to peer over Gervase’s shoulder.

      “Not yet, СКАЧАТЬ