The Laird's Captive Wife. Joanna Fulford

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СКАЧАТЬ but it did nothing to extinguish anger—or hatred. Both burned brighter for being cold.

      ‘Why are you so anxious to find Fitzurse anyway?’

      The prisoner’s voice drew the laird back to the present. ‘That’s my business,’ he replied.

      ‘Suit yourself. It’s nothing to me.’ The other paused. ‘I doubt if Fitzurse will care either.’

      ‘Oh, he’ll care all right when I catch up to him.’

      ‘And who are you exactly?’

      ‘My name is Iain McAlpin.’

      The Norman’s eyes widened slightly in recognition and with it the first flicker of fear.

      ‘I have heard of you, my lord.’

      ‘You’re like to hear more, assuming I let you live of course.’

      The other licked dry lips. ‘I’ve told you what you wanted to know.’

      ‘You can have your life, you Norman scum. I’ll not soil my sword with you.’ With that the laird sheathed the blade and walked away.

      He headed back to the edge of the path where his men were waiting with the loot taken from the Normans.

      ‘Well?’ he asked.

      His lieutenant shook his head. ‘Not a lot, my lord. We found only copper coin and a little silver. Hardly worth their effort to get it.’

      ‘Loot is only their secondary aim, Dougal. The first is revenge for the death of an earl.’

      ‘De Comyn was a fool.’

      ‘True, but he was also William’s chosen man and Northumbria will pay the blood price.’

      He had found out early in life about the abuses of power, first at his father’s hands and later from other men. They were lessons well learned. Only when you were strong and feared could you protect yourself and others. His reputation might have come too late to help Eloise, but it now served well to protect all those for whom he was responsible.

      Dougal eyed him quizzically.

      ‘What now, my lord?’

      ‘Tell the men to mount up. We ride for Durham.’

      The other lowered his voice. ‘Is that wise?’

      ‘Wise? Aye, if I am to find Fitzurse.’

      ‘Have a care, my lord. The man has the king’s favour.’

      ‘That will not save him,’ replied the laird. ‘I have waited eight years for the chance to get him within my sword’s length.’

      ‘Aye, and you have just cause to seek him out. I know that if any man does.’

      ‘And your point is?’

      Undaunted by that hawk-like stare his companion met and held it. ‘I’m only asking if Durham is the right place to meet him. The area is like to be swarming with William’s men. Fitzurse will be well protected.’

      ‘Not well enough to save him from me.’

      ‘Cut the bastard’s throat with my blessing, but what of your mission and your oath to Malcolm?’

      ‘Both will be honoured. He’ll get the intelligence he seeks at the appointed place and time.’ Retrieving the reins of a dapple grey stallion, the laird swung easily into the high saddle. ‘But come what may I shall have my revenge.’

      Chapter One

      ‘Keep your guard high, Ashlynn. Like this.’Ban held his own sword aloft in demonstration. ‘That’s it. Now let’s try those moves again.’

      Nothing loath Ashlynn closed in to attack, trying to remember everything her brother had taught her over these last weeks, her whole attention focused on the two blades. The clash of metal rang in the frosty air. Ban parried dextrously and for a moment or two she had the satisfaction of seeing him forced back several paces.

      ‘Ha! Take that!’

      He returned the grin. ‘You grow cocky, little sister.’

      Ashlynn redoubled her efforts, laying on with a will, and saw him give ground again. Exultant she laughed. Laughter turned to a yelp as a blow beneath the hilt sent the blade flying out of her grasp and he tripped her neatly, sending her sprawling on her back, his sword point coming to rest against her throat.

      ‘Do you yield?’

      She sighed. ‘I yield…again.’

      ‘Don’t be disheartened.’ He put up his blade and extended a hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘That was much better.’

      ‘Not good enough.’

      ‘It takes time, Ash, and you’ve made real progress.’

      His praise heightened the flush of colour in her cheeks. At nineteen Ban was a year her senior and had already established his fighting credentials, his career having been founded at Stamford Bridge and Hastings three years earlier.

      ‘Progress of a kind,’ she replied. ‘Yet I think my skills would not long withstand those of a seasoned mercenary.’

      ‘God send you never need to put them to the test.’

      ‘God send none of us does.’ She shot him a shrewd glance. ‘And yet you think it may come to that, don’t you?’

      ‘William will not suffer resistance lightly.’

      She knew the words for truth. In recent days the manor at Heslingfield had seen a steady stream of people fleeing north from Durham ahead of the approaching army. None would willingly stay to face the Conqueror’s wrath, knowing it would be terrible indeed, for the slaying of the Earl of Northumbria would be avenged with interest.

      ‘De Comyn should have listened to Bishop Aegelwine. If he had he might be living still. Commandeering men’s homes and womenfolk was never going to win him friends.’

      It was an understatement and they both knew it. What had followed the arrival of the new Earl of Northumbria was an orgy of violence and cruelty. Provoked beyond endurance, the people of Durham had risen up in the night and slain the hated invaders, almost to a man. The streets of the city had run with blood. De Comyn had been burned alive when the mob set fire to the house where he and some of his men tried to make their last stand. Of the original force of seven hundred Norman soldiers only two had lived to tell the tale.

      Ban shook his head in disgust. ‘The Normans are arrogant brutes and heed none when their minds are set on blood and conquest.’

      ‘William will find the city empty when he comes.’

      ‘Then his wrath will fall elsewhere.’

      It was the reason he had begun to teach his sister the rudiments СКАЧАТЬ