Dauntless (Valiant Hearts Book #1) by Dina L. Sleiman Read Free Book Online Page A

home. I never strayed so far before.”
    Ah. Timothy understood. Many peasants never left their village of origin. They had no need to mention names. Poor frightened child. Probably knew nothing of the basic geography of his own shire. “Allow me to guess, and perhaps you shall recall the name. Perhaps . . . Endsworth or Flotsdale?”
    The child remained frightened and confused. “’Tis that way, methinks.” He pointed west. “Not so far. I didn’t pass nothing in between.”
    “Ah! Bryndenbury?”
    “Yes, yes, that’s the one. Bryndenbury. I suppose now that you’ve said the name, I can find it myself. Thank you for your help. I don’t want to trouble you.”
    “Absolutely not. I insist we accompany you. It is not so far from my parents’ home. Perhaps we shall stop in for our evening meal.”
    The boy appeared not at all relieved. Timothy supposed stumbling upon a troop of the earl’s guards, pointing arrows his way while he was stealing berries would undo any child. Timothy draped his arm over the lad’s shoulder and led him back toward the horses. The boy would be happy enough once safely reunited with his mother in Bryndenbury.
    The thieves would have to wait . . . for now.

Chapter 5
    Darkness had fallen, and still no sign of Gilbert. Although nary a sound had echoed from the forest for many hours, Merry and her band remained huddled and quiet in their makeshift fort. She attempted to keep Wren occupied playing a game with carved animals. In another corner of the room under a cross upon the wall, Allen led most of the children in whispered prayers as they knelt in a circle about him. He had long served as a spiritual advisor for the group.
    Merry did not have the heart to inform them that as outlaws, they might well have been excommunicated from the church long ago. Of course, thanks to King John, all of England had been under an edict from the pope and forbidden to hold mass for several years during her childhood, and no one had paid that much mind.
    Allen continued to pray in a sincere manner, with no pretense. Speaking to his heavenly Father, as he referred to God, in plain English, the most common language of all. Merry could not fathom where he had learned to pray thus. Yet she could nothelp believing that if God still sat upon His throne, if any prayer might reach His ears, it would be one from these devout children.
    Thieves or not.
    As she recalled the stories she had read from her priest’s copy of the Vulgate Bible, she supposed the Israelites had found themselves on the wrong side of the law a time or two. And, according to the biblical account, God had not forsaken them.
    Not as He had forsaken Merry.
    No, Merry could not partake in the children’s prayers. She hugged Wren to her chest, thankful for the excuse to stay at a distance. She expected today’s events would prod Allen to begin his Sunday services once again. She dreaded standing among them as they worshiped a God in whom she no longer believed. Her own fervor had been stripped away on that ill-fated night two years earlier.
    But she had not the heart to strip them of their superstitions either. If thoughts of God brought them comfort, she would support their religious beliefs. And if by chance Allen and the others were correct, better she be responsible only for losing her own soul rather than affecting the souls of every person in this room.
    Wren looked up from her play. She twisted in Merry’s lap to study her in the dim glow of candlelight, then cupped Merry’s face with her chubby hand. “No wo-wee, Ma-wee. Sunshine men take care.”
    Had Wren just admonished her not to worry? Merry chuckled.
    She had heard of children creating imaginary friends before, but none so fanciful as Wrenny’s collection of sunshine men. The tot often chased the invisible creatures about the camp in her own private game. Going so far as to clutch the illusive figures to herself and cry, “Got you!”
    “So are your sunshine men strong?” asked