Patricia Ryan - [Fairfax Family 01] Read Online Free PDF Page A

robbed?”
    Persistent wench. “Aye.” Thorne wondered what it would take to melt her frost, and decided to try to find out. “And their throats were cut.”
    Rainulf crossed himself and Martine nodded, still without turning to look at him.
    “The barons are outraged, of course,” Thorne said. “And Olivier, our lord earl, has vowed to find the men responsible and inflict the worst tortures you can imagine before giving them to the hangman.”
    The lady made no response to this.
    “And find them, he will,” the Saxon continued. “He’ll have to. Not only to serve justice, but to satisfy the king’s chancellor.”
    “Thomas Becket?” Rainulf said. “What’s his interest in this?”
    “The lady Aiglentine was the daughter of a close friend of his, and he was quite fond of her. Becket wants these bandits caught and an example made of them. Olivier has organized every man, woman, and child in Sussex, and beyond, to look for them. They will most assuredly be caught, and God have mercy on them when they are.”
    “Yes, God have mercy,” Rainulf murmured thoughtfully.
    Thorne said, “The men who were Anseau’s vassals are up in arms, as well. He was a respected overlord, strong but compassionate, and everyone loved the lady Aiglentine. At the time of her murder, she was heavy with child. The baby died as well, of course, so in fact, there weren’t two victims, but three.”
    Martine half turned toward him, as if she had wanted to say something, then thought better of it. She wore a grim expression, and when she briefly sought out Thorne’s eyes before turning away, he saw such abject sadness in them as to take his breath away.
    She bewildered him, this humbly clad baron’s daughter. She was aloof and ill humored, yet her eyes—those fathomless eyes—drew him in.
    He mentally shook himself. He could ill afford to be too curious about Martine of Rouen. She existed merely as a thing of value, a commodity to be exchanged for... for his very future. As such, he needed her desperately. Or rather, he needed desperately for her to marry Edmond of Harford.
    Then would come his reward, his land. Land for which he had clawed and struggled for ten long years, land which he had deserved long before this... land which would, God willing, finally be his.
    *   *   *
    As they left the forest, Martine saw the knight in front of her sheathe his sword, and Sir Thorne and the others followed suit. She realized that she had been holding herself rigid in her saddle for some time.
    “You can relax now. The danger’s past,” her brother assured her. She smiled at him, and in the act of smiling, the tension that had gripped her melted away, and she actually did relax.
    It had been cool in the forest, but now that the sun warmed her, her woolen mantle was stifling. She unpinned it and draped it across her arm.
    They rode westward through rolling pastures and occasional small woods, finally coming to a dirt road leading north, which they followed. The riders now had room to regroup and spread out, Sir Thorne and his squire riding well ahead of Martine and Rainulf, and the others well behind.
    Seizing the opportunity for a private conversation with her brother, Martine said, “Do you think he can read? Sir Edmond?”
    “Nay,” Rainulf said. “Otherwise Thorne would have mentioned it in his letter.” He smiled indulgently at her groan. “You’ve spent the past year in the company of Paris scholars and seven years before that at St. Teresa’s, so you take reading for granted. But the fact is, most men can’t.”
    “Sir Thorne can. And he’s a Saxon!”
    “‘Tis because I taught him.”
    “ You taught him? When? During the Crusade?”
    He nodded. “We spent a year shackled in leg irons next to each other in a hot, stinking little underground cell. We had to do something to keep busy.” He spoke in too light a tone; in his eyes, Martine saw a glint of something dark and unforgiving.
    “You never speak of those