While Angels Slept Read Online Free PDF Page A

shouts from the kitchen yard off to his left suddenly caught his
attention. The servants were in an uproar. He caught two words: fire and
steward. Before he realized it, he was off and running in that direction with
Lady Penden close on his heels.
    She had heard
the screaming, too.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Standing in the
middle of the kitchen yards, Charles had covered himself with oil and was
holding a torch at arm’s length. Several frightened servants hovered in the
yard, unsure what to do. By the time Tevin and Cantia got there, the Steward of
Rochester was in the full stages of dementia, falling apart before their eyes.
    “My God, my
God,” the man yelled to the heavens. “Can you not take me instead? I give
myself to you freely. Can you not leave my son here to finish his life?”
    Cantia was
horrified. Some of the other knights had heard the yelling and soon, Tevin was
joined by Val, John, and his two remaining knights, Dagan Sutton and Gavril de
Reigate.  Tevin held out his arm to stop them as the men began to spread out
behind him, fearful that their presence would cause Charles to light himself
immediately. Myles was the last one to arrive, his strong face tinged with
shock. He went to stand next to Cantia, hoping to take her away from this.
Tevin saw what the knight was up to and encouraged him.
    “Get her out of
here, de Lohr,” he whispered loudly. “Her presence will only inflame him.”
    Cantia thought
to resist, but something in Tevin’s dark eyes told her that he would not
tolerate disobedience. She allowed Myles to turn her for the yard gate just as
Hunt raced through it. Neither one of them was fast enough to stop him as he
broke through and headed straight for Charles. He grabbed the old man around
the legs, holding him fast.
    “Grandfather!”
the little boy wailed. “What are you doing? I would come, too!”
    “No!” Cantia
screamed.
    She broke away
from Myles but made it only a few feet before Tevin caught her. He ensnared her
in his massive arms and there was no way to break free.
    “Stop,” his
mouth was by her ear. “You may only provoke him with whatever you say. The
emotions between the two of you are raw. Let me deal with this.”
    “But… Hunt !”
     “I
know.” His lips were on her flesh, his hot breath permeating her brain. “Trust
me, Lady Penden. Please.”
    She
was bordering on panic. Her hand was at her mouth, holding in the hysterics,
but she finally nodded. She had little choice but to trust him. Slowly, very
slowly, Tevin released her back to Myles, his mind focused on the next step in
his life. The Steward of Rochester was ready to die, that much was certain. But
his five-year-old grandson did not understand any of this, and the child was in
peril.
    He had to get
the boy.
    “Penden,” Tevin
moved towards him, very cautiously. “Look at what has happened. The lad knows
nothing of what is going on. He is innocent. If you torch yourself and take him
with you, God will make sure you spend all of eternity far away from Brac. You
will never see him again, tucked away in the depths of hell only reserved for
those who take their own life. And what of the boy? You would take his life
with your selfishness. Does he not deserve to live?”
    Dripping with
the oil that he poured all over his head, Charles put his hand on the boy
clinging to him. He struggled to hang onto the madness, now in conflict with
his common sense.
    “Someone come
and claim the boy,” he said loudly. “He does not belong here.”
    Tevin moved
closer. “I will claim him. Throw the torch away and I will come near.”
    That apparently
wasn’t good enough. Charles looked down at his grandson, now slimy with oil.
“Go,” he whispered huskily. “Go to your mother, boy. Give me a grand funeral,
as grand as your father’s.”
    Hunt shook his
head. “Nay, grandfather. Pleath let me come with you.”
    “You cannot. I
go to be with your father.”
    “But my father
ith dead. I do not want you