Saucy wench.
Broc replaced the hood over his head, preparing to go. He untied the rope from the stake with one hand and petted the animal with the other.
Now to get the bloody beast out of the stables without alerting anyone…
He cracked open the door and peered out, thenpushed it open when he was certain the way was clear. He led the hound out by the rope, closing the stall door carefully behind him, and then hurried outside. Once in the courtyard, he made his way to the meadow, grateful for the near moonless night. It was at least two furlongs before he would reach the forest, and he hurried toward it, longing for its sanctuary, murmuring praises to the animal once he was far enough away that no one could hear him. He called it by its name, and it followed happily, wagging its tail.
It wasn’t until he was near the forest’s edge that he heard bellows. He peered over his shoulder, expecting to find himself being pursued, and froze where he stood.
The stable had suddenly erupted into flames.
From the raging bonfire bounded a squealing, bucking stallion, its mane afire. The sight of it, even at the distance, brought Broc to his knees.
He couldn’t tell whether the shouts came from those he’d left within or from those who were hurrying toward the growing inferno. His gut twisted with indecision. He prayed the couple he’d left inside would make it out of the flames and was torn between wanting to go back and help and wanting to flee the scene before he was discovered. He tried to recall whether he had inadvertently caused the fire and was absolutely certain he had not. There had been no lights within the stable, no flames, except the one at the far end of the aisle where the lovers lay. Surely they had started the fire themselves and had fled to safety, though his heart ached for the animals left inside.
The shouts intensified as the fire grew fiercer. Silhouettes scurried about in chaos.
Taking the leash in hand, Broc took one last look at the melee and ducked into the woods, pulling the hound behind him. He ran as fast as the animal could go without dragging it in his wake. He ran, focusing onElizabet, because if he didn’t—if he for one instant forgot what was at stake—he would turn around and go back.
“I saw the arrow fly,”Baldwin informed Piers. “With my own eyes!”
Piers knew Baldwin wouldn’t lie. The man had been with him far too long.
Ordering his wife to remain inside, he turned and slammed open the doors, flying into the night’s chaos.
Who the hell had cause to burn his stables? And someone had—there was no mistaking it. A burning arrow shot into the air was certainly no accident!
“Who was left within?” Piers asked Baldwin.
“No one, Piers! No one, though young David and his wench were inside when it happened. The girl made it out fine. David remained to open the stalls and suffered severe burns because of it, but he’s out, at least, albeit in pain.”
Piers scowled. “Brave lad.”
“Aye, we owe him our gratitude.”
“I’ll see he is rewarded for his efforts.”
Baldwin nodded. “He saved at least five mounts. Two were not so fortunate...” He hesitated. “Yours being one of them.”
An explosion of curses erupted from Piers’ tongue. “By God’s teeth, if I discover the culprit, I swear I will cut off his arms and his legs and then hang him from the nearest tree to feed the vultures!”
Baldwin winced.
Piers came to a halt before the stable and stood, arms akimbo, glaring at the burning building. His men scurried about, trying in vain to put out the flames. They weren’t equipped to battle fires. The well was too far, the water supply insufficient. Their bestcourse was to let it extinguish itself. Thank God the stables had been constructed apart from the manor house and far from the forest. As it was, he was in danger of losing the barracks behind it, but thankfully no more than that. He’d fully intended to build a new one in time, but he damned well couldn’t afford to do so at the moment. And yet there was no help for it. He couldn’t do without housing for his men. The horses would have to be put out in the field, and the fences would have to be secured, but the weather was mild as yet, and he wasn’t so concerned about the beasts.
God damn whoever was responsible!
“Holy Christ!” a voice shouted from a distance. “What the hell happened here?”
It was Tomas. His arrival couldn’t have been more ill timed.
Or more perfect, as the case might be.
Piers cast the man a rancorous glance, wondering where the hell he had been riding so late. Lucky for him that he had his horse—or well-timed.
“I thought you were going to retire for the night,” he said to the man with barely restrained animosity. There was something nefarious about his guest, something he had sensed from the first instant their eyes had met. If there hadn’t been two bloody witnesses to corroborate his story, Piers might have called him a liar to his face.
“I wasn’t tired, so I thought to take another look about for Elizabet.”
