Master Of Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

where they are.”
    He looked harshly at her. “Mayhap, but I can harm their lady.”
    Isabel drew her dagger. An instant later, it clattered to the floor. She cried out in pain, rubbing her hand. The savage grabbed her by the front of her gown. He yanked her hard against him, and her breath rushed out from her chest from the contact. “Would that you were given to more intelligence, lady.” He dropped her, and she crumpled to the hard stone floor. He motioned to his men. “Bring the ram, and ferret them out.” As two men moved through the open portal and returned with a massive battering ram, the black knight said to them, “Kill any who resist.”
    Isabel hurried to her feet and rushed ahead of the men as they moved toward the stairway. She stretched her arms out as if she could possibly stop them. “Nay! They do not deserve your wrath!”
    The knights pushed past her and up the stairway, lugging up the great piece of timber. The chamber doors would split as easily as twigs in her hand under the combined strength of the men and the battering ram. Soon the loud pounding of mailed fists on the doors echoed through the hall. The terrified screams of her people followed. Isabel turned to the knight who stood calmly watching her as his men terrorized the villagers.
    Soon the hall descended into chaotic order. The knights assisted by several foot soldiers dragged down resisting villagers, the women screamed, the men, oddly, were quiet. The sound of the ram battering down more bolted doors echoed throughout the hall. Isabel stood silent and watched, ready to come to the aid of any of her subjects who looked as if the Norman sword might find a home in their belly. Her eyes scanned the terrified faces. By her calm stance against these invaders, she hoped they would gain some small comfort. It would do none of them good for her to rail against these Norman knights. She must be the calm in this storm and see where it would settle.
    Isabel’s eyes traced the hall before going up the stairway. One face was missing amongst the villagers and house servants. Russell’s red head.
    “Who lingers, damsel?” the Black Sword asked from behind her.
    Isabel whirled around to face him. He stood close enough to her that all she had to do was reach out a hand to touch his chest.
    “None,” she whispered.
    “If you lie…” He stood back and turned to the assembled people, then signaled to his men to bring them closer.
    As the terror-stricken people were herded tightly together and subdued, la lame noir turned back to Isabel. The same twisted smile he had bestowed on her earlier returned. “Now, damsel, you will bow to me in front of your people so that they accept me as their master.”
    Isabel gasped at his request. “I will never bow to a bastard!”
    The black knight’s men gasped in shock. As she spoke in French to the knight, her people had no knowledge of what she said. For that she was grateful, for they would not know what he demanded of her.
    The black knight threw his head back and laughed. His hand clamped on her shoulder, his mailed fingers digging deep into her skin. In perfect English he said, “To your knees, damsel. For each moment you refuse, one head will roll across the rushes.”
    Her pride waged a terrible war with her fear. The Black Sword raised a hand, and one of the knights closest to her grabbed Enid. The maid shrieked. Isabel bit her lip so hard she tasted the hard copper of her own blood. She sank to her knees. But she did not bow her head. She looked harshly up at him, her eyes narrowed. Then she spit at him.
    His tawny eyes flinched in surprise. And once again that terrifying smile twisted his lips.
    “I will enjoy breaking your spirit, Lady Isabel.” He reached down, and as he drew her up, a sharp hiss of air stirred her long hair, followed by the battle cry of a foolish boy. Isabel screamed and stepped back as an arrow struck the dark knight in the chest. When the arrow bounced off and clattered to