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A Knight’s Reward

Page 107

by Catherine Kean

Hated, hated, hated!

A harsh, rasping sound broke through the fury burning in her mind. With a start, she realized she heard her own breathing.

A hand fell upon her shoulder. She turned around to see de Lanceau studying her, concern in his gaze. “Gisela?”

“He did this because I left him,” she ground out. “Because I would not tolerate his drunken cruelty.”

“He is gone now,” he said, squeezing her arm. The torch in his hand hissed, spewing black smoke.

“For how long?”

Footfalls sounded on her shop’s planked floor. “Milord,” said one of the men-at-arms. “A woman outside says she must speak with you.”

“What does she want? Who is she?”

“I do not know, milord, but she says her name is Ada.”

“Ada,” Gisela echoed, glancing at the man-at-arms. “Please, milord, may I see her?”

Motioning to the sentry, de Lanceau said, “Show her in.”

The torchlight playing across the plank floor shifted, murmurs sounded outside, and then Ada appeared, wrapped in a woolen cloak. Her worried face softened with a smile. “Gisela.”

Tears welled again. Gisela hurried to Ada, meeting her at the inner doorway. Throwing her arms around the older woman, Gisela hugged her tight.

Sniffling, pulling back, she asked, “Are you harmed? What happened?”

“I will tell ye all,” Ada said, gently extricating herself from Gisela’s arms. She dropped into a low curtsy. “Milord.”

“Ada stayed here while Ewan and I traveled to Branton Keep,” Gisela explained.

“I remember. You were her accomplice in the bowl-smashing antics,” de Lanceau said, mirth in his gaze.

“Aye, milord.” Ada flushed and tugged at her cloak. “I kept watch o’er Ryle and the two other men. After a while, I grew ’ungry and weary. I did not want ta fall asleep on such an important duty.” She shook her head. “They appeared ta be oblivious, so I left for me ’ome for a quick meal. Well”—she looked sheepish—“right as I was about to return ’ere, I ’eard voices outside.”

“Whose voices?” Gisela asked.

“I recognized Ryle’s.” Ada shuddered. “Unmistakeable, ’is. ’E was furious, cursin’ Gisela’s name, rammin’ his foot—or maybe ’is fist—into a wall close by… Slam, slam, slam, it went.” She shuddered again.

Gisela slid her arm around the woman’s shoulders. She could imagine what a frightening experience that had been.

“Did you hear what they said?” de Lanceau asked, his frown deepening.

“They discussed the fastest way ta meet up with Crenardieu. The thugs wanted their share o’ coin, promised ta them after Crenardieu sold the cloth ta the London merchants.”

“God’s blood!” de Lanceau growled.

“When was the meeting to take place?” Gisela asked.

“This mornin’ at dawn. At the old dock along the river.”

De Lanceau ran a hand over his jaw. “Which one?”

“There are several docks close by,” Gisela said in dismay. “There are others on Clovebury’s outskirts.”

Ada nodded. “Ryle did not want ta simply follow the other men. ’E wanted specific directions. They told ’im ta go through Clovebury, then travel into a forest. The dock would be there.”

“A rather vague account,” de Lanceau said. “Still, my men and I will find them.” He nodded to the older woman and turned to walk out.