Ignoring the slight, Sabina called for Adele to bring some ale and food. Ursula had gone into the kitchens to help, but Urban appeared, as if he had been waiting behind the wooden screen at the end of the hall for Lord de Burgh’s arrival. Sabina gave him a nod, grateful, as always, for his sharp eyes and constant protection.
‘Mistress Sexton,’ Lord de Burgh said, recalling her attention.
His sombre expression did not bode well, and Sabina felt a sudden fear that he would not hold to his word. Had he partaken of their hospitality only to go on his way, leaving them to their fate? ‘Yes?’ she asked, tension filling her once more.
‘I would like to take you away from here. I’ll be happy to escort you to the nearest village, to relatives you may have elsewhere, to your liege lord’s manor, or even to my own home,’ he said, looking as surprised by that last offer as Sabina felt. She might have questioned him about his residence, if she were not so distressed by his advice to leave her own.
‘She is not going anywhere with you.’ Urban spoke up from his position nearby, but Lord de Burgh did not bother to acknowledge him.
The knight kept his gaze on Sabina as he made clear his intent. ‘I would like to take you all away from here.’
Urban quieted at that, and why wouldn’t he? He had been trying to talk her into leaving for months. Apparently, he had found some common ground with the stranger, but Sabina could not join them. Instead, she felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Lord de Burgh had agreed to help them. Would he now abandon them, as had so many before him?
‘You have a duty to do, sir knight, and that is to slay the dragon. Have you thought better of the task over the night?’ Sabina spoke sharply, hoping to wound or shame him, but he gave no sign of feeling either.
‘I would only that you and the others be safely away while I dispatch the…beast.’
Sabina felt a small measure of hope return, yet long months of frustration and broken promises made her weary and suspicious. She wanted to believe this man, just as she wanted to believe that a knight’s word was good. But she knew that was not always the case. How could she be sure of his success, if she were not here to witness the deed? And, even if she did trust him to complete his task, how could she flee as so many others had done and leave her village in the hands of a stranger?
‘No,’ Sabina said, quietly. ‘You are welcome to escort the others where they will, but I am staying.’
‘I’m not leaving you here with him!’ Urban sputtered.
‘That is your choice,’ Sabina said.
Adele appeared, bringing some apples and cheese and ale, and Sabina ate silently, trying not to stare at the knight in their midst. She regretted the sharpness of her words, brought on by her own fear and panic, and she realised that she would do better to tread softly around the stranger. ’Twould be wise to remember that she needed him and not the other way around.
When she had finished her meagre meal, Sabina rose to her feet and addressed her visitor. ‘Come, my lord, let me show you my home, and perhaps you will see why I care so much for Grim’s End.’
For a moment, Sabina thought he might argue, but a flicker of something, perhaps resignation, passed over his features. Then he downed his cider, picked up an apple and stood. ‘Very well,’ he said, with a nod.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Urban asked.
Sabina glanced towards him, surprised by his sharp tone. For a moment, she could find no cause for it, and then she realised just how far removed she was from the niceties that once had ruled her life.
Those who stayed in Grim’s End had clung together, their numbers dwindling, until the remaining few had become like a wandering family, making camp where they would. No one paid heed to who was with whom, where or when. Indeed, Sabina often had been alone with Urban, who had made no objection at the time. But she could understand the need to keep up appearances for their guest.
‘Perhaps Ursula can walk with us,’ Sabina said, heading toward the kitchens to call for her attendant.
Urban made some sort of sputtering noise again, as if protesting, and Sabina eyed him curiously. As her father’s man, he was well accustomed to protecting her, but she saw no need for it now. Everything about Lord de Burgh spoke of honesty and courage. And if he were up to mischief, he could have robbed and murdered them in their beds.
And since he could easily overpower the older man, there was no sense in Urban following her every movement. The thought had barely crossed her mind when Sabina realised how much she longed to escape his company, and she immediately felt a pang of guilt. They were all grateful to Urban, for how could they have remained here without him? Yet his gloom and fear were a palatable presence. Sabina could not remember the last time she had been outside without the threat of attack dogging her steps. Nor could she remember the last time she had a conversation that did not revolve around the survival of their small band.
Selfishly, Sabina longed for both, away from Urban’s sullen presence. Yet she might have invited him to join them had not Ursula appeared at that moment to say that Adele had need of him. Sending them all a chary look, Urban disappeared into the kitchens, while Ursula hurried to accompany them.
Without Urban to remind her, Sabina did not even peek out the doors before exiting, warily listening for roars and watching for streams of fire. She simply stepped outside, and it felt wonderful. The sky was clear, the clouds wisps of white and the air fresh and warm. Sabina took a deep breath and smiled with pure pleasure.
Her feet easily found the familiar paths, taking the one that led to the rear of the manor, where the ground sloped gently upwards. ‘We try to keep up the garden as best we can, as well as others scattered throughout the village,’ she said, though the area looked sadly depleted and overgrown. There were so few of them and so much to do…
Sabina drew in a sharp breath. But she would not think about that now. In fact, as they walked quietly through the orchard, she tried to imagine this stroll taking place another day, another time when her heart was lighter. She might even pretend that the man beside her was here of his own volition.
But one glance at her companion made her dismiss such fancies, for Reynold de Burgh was not a figure of romance. She could not see him dropping on one knee or prosing lyrical about a lady’s charms. In fact, the very thought made her smile. Lord de Burgh was a man’s man, and if not for her predicament, he would have no use for Sabina Sexton.
Yet Sabina felt no dismay at that truth, for the taciturn figure at her side kept her fears at bay, while she basked in the day’s warmth. It was more than she had dreamed of in these past hard months, and she would ask for nothing else. Turning away from the deserted barn and dairy, Sabina led her companion toward the stone stable.
‘What happened to your cattle? Your horses? Your sheep?’ he asked, peering into the dark interior, where only his horses stood among the shadows of carts and harnesses.
‘Killed, driven away, disappeared,’ Sabina said. ‘Perhaps they were eaten, or maybe they are still wandering.’
Refusing to dwell on the past, Sabina walked on, skirting the tall grasses at the edge of the pond where she had played as a child. They were headed towards the road when Ursula called to them from behind. Sabina turned to see the older woman seated upon the Marking Stone.
‘You go on, and I will watch you from here,’ she said.
Sabina lifted her brows in surprise, for Ursula was always frightened to go out, and now she would sit in the open? Mindful of her attendant’s fears, Sabina did not venture far, but paused in the dust of the track to point out the baker’s and the blacksmith’s. Then they crossed the road to wind their way through the scattered plots and abandoned homes that had once teemed with life, and Sabina felt her pleasure dim.
As much as she might like to pretend differently, the changes in Grim’s End could not be ignored. The bustling village now stood empty and so silent that she felt her nerves stretch taut. It was not the place she had once known, but something
eerie and frightening, and Sabina moved a little closer to the warrior who walked beside her.
‘What was there?’ Lord de Burgh asked, pointing across the road.
Sabina lifted a hand to shade her eyes and blinked at the tumble of stones. ‘That’s all that remains of the original church, although it’s said to have been built on the site of one that was even older.’ The manor had replaced an earlier one, as well, though all traces of that building were gone.
‘You’ve seen the new church, of course,’ Sabina said, leading him toward the structure with a small measure of pride. ‘The Sextons have always been associated with the sanctuaries of Grim’s End. Long ago, my ancestors tended the first, and later, they helped build this one,’ Sabina said. She always felt a connection here, even now.
Lord de Burgh walked around the exterior, stopping to look at the fine carving on the wall that faced the road. ‘Rather unusual depiction for a church, isn’t it?’ he asked, with a nod toward the dragon.
‘I’m sure there are others of saints slaying the beasts, especially George,’ Sabina said.
‘But this shows only the dragon, not the slayer.’
Sabina shrugged. ‘I’ve heard that grim can mean worm or beast, so I think it represents our history, the founding of our village upon a great deed.’ What better place to remind its residents of their good fortune and the need for vigilance against evil? But had their vigilance grown slack? Sabina could think of no real reason for the dragon to awake, except perhaps…She shook her head.
Lost in her thoughts, Sabina did not stir until she remembered her company. Then she glanced up to see Lord de Burgh standing not far away, waiting patiently. The man was sparing, of movement, of speech, of himself. But Sabina needed no reassurance of words or posturing, for she felt a security she had never known before, basking in the quiet strength of her companion. And the silence between them was comfortable, unlike the unnatural hush that had haunted her days for so long.
Motioning for him to join her, Sabina led the way inside the building, cool after the heat of the sun. She walked around the interior, its familiarity soothing, though the priest had long since fled to a less dangerous place of worship. According to him, one or more of the villagers was responsible for their troubles, someone in league with evil, perhaps even a demon. His alarming words had neighbours eyeing each other warily, so Sabina was glad to see him go.
She turned to find Lord de Burgh studying the wall where a smaller depiction echoed the one outside. He seemed deep in thought, and Sabina felt a surge of affection for him. The man was on his way to Bury St Edmunds to see the great abbey, and no doubt he had been to other cathedrals that soared into the sky, laden with riches. And, yet, he appeared to appreciate even this small work of art.
‘Repent and seek your reward,’ he read in that deep voice of his. It was gravelly and yet acted like liquid warmth seeping into her bones. He turned his head to give her a questioning look. ‘Is that advice for the dragon or the worshippers?’
Sabina laughed and then went still. How long had it been since her heart was light enough for laughter? For one giddy moment, she felt like throwing herself into this knight’s arms in gratitude. But his expression became shuttered, and he turned away. She had already discovered he had a dry wit. But did he ever laugh himself?
There was something melancholy at the core of Reynold de Burgh, a weight that Sabina wished she could lift. But what could she, a mere female in dire straits herself, offer a man such as this?
Chapter Five
T he woman called Ursula was waiting for them when they approached the manor, and Reynold was surprised he had been so long alone with a beautiful woman. At the time, he had not realised it. For once, he had been at ease in such company, probably because Mistress Sexton made it very clear what she wanted from him, and Reynold knew, as well. He had a job to do. Nothing more.
When they entered the hall, Reynold nearly laughed at the sight of Urban and Peregrine, who were wearing matching disgruntled expressions. It was evident that they would rather have accompanied Mistress Sexton, and Reynold was glad that he had learned to hide his own emotions rather than parade them for all to see—and mock.
‘Come, squire, make yourself useful,’ Reynold said to the lad in voice a bit gruffer than usual.
‘Where are you going?’ Urban asked.
‘I’ll just have a look around.’
‘I thought that’s what you already did,’ the man said. His speech sounded a challenge, more often than not, as though he were suspicious of Reynold’s every move. Simon, the most hot-headed of the de Burghs, would have already slammed him against a wall a time or two.
Luckily for Urban, Reynold was not his brother, so he only shook his head. ‘Mistress Sexton kindly showed me parts of the village, but I would have a closer look myself, for signs of the dragon.’
Mistress Sexton’s head jerked up at his words. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I did not think of that. How foolish of me to simply…’ She did not finish, but gazed at him, her eyes wide, and Reynold realised they were blue. Of course, they were blue. What other colour would they be?
Reynold held up a hand to stop her apology. ‘Now that I know my way around, I would rather search the area myself.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Urban said, though he did not appear happy about the prospect.
Reynold shook his head. He didn’t want anyone telling him what had happened where, preferring to observe for himself and draw his own conclusions. ‘I’ll just take the boy here, and we’ll see what we can find.’
No one seemed pleased at that pronouncement. Both Urban and Mistress Sexton looked like they would rather go with him, for whatever reason, while Peregrine eyed the damsel longingly.
‘Come along, squire,’ Reynold said, in a tone that brooked no argument. From anyone.
Once outside, they walked first to the road, then weaved among the buildings, searching for signs of attack. There were a few blackened areas, but they were small, as though well contained. Still, Reynold studied the sites, running his hands over the burned edges, bending low to the ground to sift through the ash.
‘What is it?’ Peregrine asked.
‘Sand,’ Reynold said, with a glance toward the ocean that lay some distance from Grim’s End.
On the outskirts of the village, they found fields that had been scorched, just as Mistress Sexton had said. Yet, further out, they found nothing. No rotting carcases, no bleached bones, no unusual fur or feathers or excrement. Deep in thickets, they stirred up hares and some good game birds, including a few doves that might have once belonged to Grim’s End. He would have to ask Mistress Sexton if she had kept a dovecot.
Reynold shook his head at the thought. He had met some strong women in his brothers’ wives, but surely none like Mistress Sexton, who not only held her manor, but an entire village on her own, while radiating a beauty that eclipsed any other.
Reynold frowned. Better he not dwell on Mistress Sexton’s attributes, for she already had enough admirers, he thought, slanting a glance at young Peregrine. Who she was or what she did or how she looked was not important, as long as it did not impede his task, which was to find out what was menacing her and her people.
But so far Reynold was having no luck. He had paused frequently to study the tall grasses, the undergrowth and coppices, often bending down to the earth. Although he could not track as well as his brother Dunstan, he still sought footprints and marks of passage. But he found few prints, owing to the dry weather, and only the usual broken twigs and stems. There was no sign of bear or boar or wolf. Was he missing something?
The land sloped gently, except for the odd hill across from the church, and from one spot that stood a bit higher, Reynold could even catch a glimpse of the sea, past the village and through some trees. Perhaps they should search that area, too, though it was even further, and his leg was already bothering him. Tomorrow, he thought, for he needed to be able to move as quickly as possible. His decision certai
nly had nothing to do with keeping his limp in check in the presence of others, such as his hostess.
As much as he wished to ignore Mistress Sexton, she was the only thing that seemed solid in the curious muddle that was Grim’s End. Putting a hand up to shield his gaze, Reynold looked upwards as if he would find the answer there, but all was clear and blue as her eyes.
‘What is it?’ Peregrine asked, lifting his head as well.
‘Not what, but where,’ Reynold muttered as he searched the skies, just as he had searched the earth below. ‘Where is the worm?’
Lord de Burgh was growing impatient. Sabina could see it in the set of his jaw, in the way he moved, with a stiff gait, and she felt her body tense in reaction. Ursula, seated nearby at the hall’s trestle table, reached over to nudge her.
‘He looks better every day, doesn’t he?’ she whispered under her breath.
The older woman’s remark drew Sabina’s attention to his appearance, and she acknowledged that he did look better every day, though she was not about to admit as much to her companion. Tall, dark-haired, wide-shouldered, his face more familiar now, but no less handsome, Lord de Burgh was not the most beautiful man Sabina had ever seen, yet he was the most compelling. There was no softness in his chiselled features; they were the hard planes of a man. And yet he was not arrogant or cruel, but kind and gentle, a combination that was more appealing than mere beauty.
In truth, Sabina had not expected to like the knight. When she had first caught sight of him in the road, she had thought of him foremost as a possible saviour. He had been more hero than person, larger than life, untouchable. But as the days passed, she had come to know him a little and like him even more.
‘Lord de Burgh,’ Ursula called, rising to her feet. The older woman certainly had changed her tune. At first wary and full of warnings about him, Ursula doted on him now. And who could blame her, for when had they seen the likes of such a man? Even his voice was seductive, a hint of hoarseness making it exotic and compelling, as he answered her greeting.
Reynold de Burgh: The Dark Knight Page 6