The Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

go easier with her if she denounced Lord Walter’s treason and voluntarily surrendered his castle. It was still possible she would yield, although her current actions suggested otherwise. Judging from appearances, the Claredon heiress was girding for war.
    Ranulf would have preferred to question her at once, but he would not risk approaching his bride yet, not until dusk fell to aid his disguise. The cowled monk’s robe he wore concealed his face and untonsured hair, but his great height and powerful frame were difficult to mask. He had stooped his shoulders and broadened his girth with a cushion tied over his belly, but he preferred to avoid recognition. Having to fight his way through such a motley crowd would not suit his purpose.
    Already the armored knights and archers arrayed along the battlements made the vulnerable flesh between his shoulder blades itch. He had left off his chain mail and sword when he’d donned his coarse brown monk’s garb, and carried only a dagger as a weapon. His best squire, a lad chosen for his quick mind, would scarcely provide much support should the Claredon forces discover an enemy in their midst. Yet he’d elected religious garb as the least likely to arouse suspicion, while affording him the best opportunity to observe his betrothed—and put him in a better position to act should she defy the king’s command and close the gates against him.
    A development that seemed imminent, judging by the frantic preparations going forth.
    Ranulf’s jaw clenched. If his bride forced him to lay siege to the castle and risk his men’s lives, she would feel the vengeance of his sword.
    Narrowing his eyes, Ranulf studied Ariane with unwilling admiration. Her tall, graceful frame gowned in rust-red bliaud and gold-linked girdle appeared as slender as a willow, too delicate to lead a retinue of knights and men-at-arms in defiance of her new liege, King Henry. She would not be the first of Henry’s subjects to attempt it, though, nor the last. Henry had been confronting unruly English barons since his first moment of arriving from Normandy four months ago. After being crowned king, he had moved swiftly to restore order in England, demolishing unlawful castles built during the late Stephen’s reign, crushing revolts, and defeating any of Stephen’s supporters who refused to swear fealty to their new ruler.
    The current uprising was led by Hugh of Mortimer, who wished to set Stephen’s bastard son William on the throne in Henry’s stead. At this moment King Henry was besieging Mortimer’s castles in Shropshire. And Ranulf had been sent to Berkshire to take possession of Walter of Claredon’s demesne and to deal with his daughter.
    At the moment she appeared deep in contemplation, a pose that only increased Ranulf’s wariness and mistrust. In his experience, females of her noble class who thought overmuch were intent on mischief and scheming.
    He watched as Ariane raised a hand to her brow and bowed her head. Was she weeping? Praying?
    No matter. He could not be swayed by tears. And God could not save her from his wrath if she was intent on treason. If she chose to support the rebellion against England’s lawful king, she would pay dearly for her betrayal.
    The choice was hers to make.
     
    “Shall we raise the drawbridge, my lady?” Simon Crecy asked quietly of his mistress. “Most of the villeins are accounted for.”
    “A few moments more,” Ariane answered. “There may still be others who wish to seek the safety of Claredon.”
    She felt Simon move to stand beside her. As her father’s chief vassal and commander of the garrison at Claredon, Simon had been left behind with a force of knights and men-at-arms when Walter rode to join Hugh Mortimer. Ariane was grateful for his company, for it helped ease the great burden of responsibility she shouldered.
    “Simon?”
    “Aye, my lady?”
    “You have done well. My father shall hear of your efforts.”
    Stealing a glance at him she saw