An Oath Taken Read Online Free PDF Page B

large frame of a dead, older man, the shaft of a broken arrow protruding from his back.
    The prisoner’s eyes narrowed.
    As if living in these vile conditions the man didn’t have cause to be furious? Nicholas nodded toward the dead man. “He shall be removed immediately and given a proper burial.”
    The prisoner lifted his jaw in defiance, and for a split second the gesture reminded Nicholas of Thomas. An odd thought. Or was it? Though the lad’s struggles to fend for himself held not the bloodshed this man had witnessed, in a sense Thomas was a prisoner to the lessons of life as well.
    The sounds of men climbing the steps echoed from the turret.
    With one last look at the prisoner, he headed toward the door.
    Sir Laurence entered the dungeon followed by several knights.
    A pace away Nicholas halted and gestured toward the cell where the fevered prisoner still watched him. “Who is that man?”
    Sir Laurence shot a curious glance down toward the cells, scowled. “Giric Armstrong. With his father having recently died during his incarceration, he is now the Earl of Terrick, a title that gives him the holding of Wolfhaven Castle, whose land borders Ravenmoor.”
    The Earl of Terrick. Bloody hell! “As if treating the noble with such contempt would help bring peace?”
    Sir Laurence’s face paled.
    Frustrated, Nicholas held up a hand. “I know, the previous castellan’s orders. Tell me what you know of him.”
    Sir Laurence shot the earl a cool glance. “Though loved by his people, many, along with me, think he is a thieving reiver just the same. Sir Renaud had him beaten for his insolence, and ordered that the healer leave him be.” He shot Nicholas a cautious look. “After the castellan’s death, I ordered that Lord Terrick be given extra water and food, but he has remained in a fevered state.”
    With the information he’d gathered, doubts assaulted Nicholas as to whether the noble had earned the beating or if the previous castellan meted out the punishment for his own corrupt pleasure. “And who is the dead man in his cell?”
    â€œLord Terrick’s father,” he replied. “Sir Renaud refused to allow dead prisoners to be removed from the cells.” He shook his head. “I regret not having informed you immediately of the prisoners and their status upon your arrival. Sir Renaud was so adamant about not being bothered with the prisoners that I . . .” He lowered his head in shame. “ ’Tis no excuse.”
    Nicholas scanned the cells with disgust. “From this moment on, I will be informed of every aspect of running this castle. Is that clear?”
    â€œYes, Sir Nicholas.”
    â€œBegin removing the dead and start with Lord Terrick’s cell. When the healer arrives, she is to tend to him first.”
    Sir Laurence gave a brisk nod, waved his men forward, and started the gruesome task.
    The first star twinkled in the blackening sky as Nicholas glanced out the tower window, one of the two sources of fresh air in the soured confines. Drawing in a slow, cool breath, he understood Lord Terrick’s anger and his pain, remembered too well the grief at his own father’s death in addition to his resultant disillusionment. That moment, the happy life he’d coveted as a child had crumbled, his beliefs shredded by bitter tongues, lies, and deceit. From the dregs of tragedy he’d learned to fight for truth, to persevere, and to never give up faith.
    He glanced toward the center of the courtyard. The bonfire from the destroyed huts still raged an orange-red. The thick swath of smoke stained the pristine night, which had grown quiet except for the footsteps of more of his men heading up the steps to the dungeon.
    Nicholas looked at the window to his chamber where he’d left Thomas, and his throat tightened. With ease, the lad could’ve been one of the injured or dead locked within the cells.