Rexanne Becnel Read Online Free PDF Page A

very place he had longed for, and yet now that he was back he found it mired in secrecy and deceit. His mouth turned down as he thought of the name he’d earned: the king’s Bird of Prey. He’d gladly protected his liege from the threats of the infidels. But now it was a threat from within that he must quell. And his enemy might be anyone—even his own brother.
    The sun was well into its downward arc when Corbett broke ranks with his men and pushed his rambunctious destrier forward. Just ahead of them was the Middling Stone, and he urged his mount up the narrow trail that led toward its peak. Little more than a ledge protruded from the great stone outcropping, and it provided scanty footing for the mighty steed. Yet neither man nor beast was deterred. Upward they went, passing beyond the view of the men who waited at the base of the stone.
    When the heavy destrier reached the end of the rugged path, he stood obediently while his rider dismounted. Then hand over hand, with his leather-shod feet struggling for a hold on the cold jagged rock, Corbett hauled himself up toward the peak. His breath was coming hard and fast when he finally reached his goal.
    Far to the south, almost beyond his view, the gray granite towers of Colchester Castle rose, and the sight brought a frown to his face. He had thought to make Colchester his home base as he followed through on Edward’s orders to ferret out the root of treason that brewed in northern England. It was natural that he would return there, and no suspicions would be roused by his presence at Colchester. But Hughe clearly did not wish to have his brother under his own roof any longer.
    For several more seconds Corbett stared south to the distant fortress, his expression harsh, his eyes somber. Finally he turned away to begin his descent.
    It was then that a shaft of sunlight pierced the leaden gray layer of clouds that hung low over the northern end of the valley. Like a golden finger of light, it touched on the pale walls of faraway Orrick Castle, and it gave him pause. Equidistant from the Middling Stone, Orrick governed the northern half of Windermere Fold, and Colchester ruled the southern half. Yet he’d not thought of Orrick in years.
    Now, as the sunlight glinted off the solid limestone walls, he could not tear his eyes away. An early autumn wind ruffled his dark hair but he did not notice, so intent was he on that distant vision. Then a slow smile lighted his face, softening his hard, masculine features. He started to leave but was suddenly stopped by a remnant memory from his youth. In short order he cleared away the accumulated moss and lichen that covered a crevice near the base of the top jut of stone.
    Even in the dreary light of the overcast day the narrow ribbon of lavender rock seemed luminous. Corbett rubbed his finger once then again down the rare vein of meridian. When he straightened up he looked back to the south.
    Colchester Castle lay south. But perhaps, he thought speculatively, perhaps the best way to get there lay north. Through Orrick.
    There were only two days left before the wedding, and Lilliane was determined to have all in readiness. Let Odelia entertain the chattering guests; Lilliane was hard at work in her oldest gown and kirtle. Her thick chestnut hair was bound in a length of plain linen to keep it out of her way.
    She was in the storerooms with the pantler and the seneschal when the bell sounded the alarm. After abandoning her tasks, she scurried out into the bailey. There Lilliane found all in chaos. Foot soldiers rapidly scaled the stairs to the battlements. Animals were being herded inside the protective walls of the castle as the villagers fled their fields and cottages. Women frantically rounded up their children, counting heads to be sure none were missing. But despite the noise and confusion and the blinding dust, Lilliane heard her father’s bellowing voice and saw his broad figure striding across the yard.
    “Father! Wait!” she