Dragon Tree by Marsha Canham Read Free Book Online Page B

Tamberlane said, his eyes searching Marak’s
for an explanation. “It was just a poor village with nothing to
hide.”
    “Nothing that
you could see, perhaps,” Marak amended carefully.
    “Nothing worth
searching for. They burned the huts without a care to what was
inside. They slaughtered the people and livestock without
pause.”
    “And you are
thinking that perhaps they were not merely attacking the
village.”
    “The vill is
on my land.”
    “Not all blame
for all crimes can be laid on your shoulders, Ciaran. If it was,
indeed, an enemy seeking vengeance, he would surely have ridden up
to the gates. It is no great secret where the Dragonslayer
lodges."
    Tamberlane
closed his fingers around the arrowhead and squeezed. "I was told
that Hugh de Bergerette is back in England. He lost an arm that day
on the road to Jerusalem. Perhaps he seeks a greater vengeance than
the tribunal proscribed."
    Marak shook
his head. “It does not make sense that he should come now. Not
after all this time.”
    “Some men have
longer memories than others.”
    Marak started
to draw a sheet of linen over the girl’s naked body, but stopped.
He looked at the golden triangle at the junction of her thighs then
tipped his head to cast a curious look at the dull brown plait that
grew from her head.
    “We have been
in this fog-ridden England of yours for three years now,” he
murmured, “and I have determined that your countrymen will attack
almost anything or anyone without much provocation. That aside,” he
dropped the sheet in place and turned to rinse his hands in the
barrel, “the fact that you live and breathe solely because your
veins flow with Glanville blood would be more than enough cause for
some to pick up a stone and clout you with it.”
    “Then they
should attack me, not innocent peasants.”
    “What better
way to attack you than strike out at innocents, since it was
because of the innocents that you found yourself questioning your
purpose in Outremer. How many challenges to fight have you refused?
How many times have the righteous stood at the gates and banged
their shields hoping to get you to answer with your sword?”
    The knight
tossed the arrowhead aside. "As you have often reminded me, insults
are just words and words are but air with sound. Ignore them and
they shiver away to nothingness."
    "Indeed, words
can be ignored. But bodies come with a deal more substance and are
harder to disregard."
    Tamberlane
glanced down at the girl. “Will she live?”
    The seneschal
shrugged. “I can do little more than ply my simple medicines and
hope it is enough to let her breathe one more day.”
    “If she
wakens, send for me, no matter it should be day or night.”
    Marak nodded,
knowing full well the Dragonslayer never slept. He knew the
warrior, no longer a monk, paced most nights away reluctant to
close his eyes, unwilling to lay himself bare to the nightmares
that continued to haunt him.
    A lesser man
might have flung himself from one of the castle turrets by now, and
in truth, there were times Marak hid in the shadows on the
wall-walk watching the troubled knight stare out over the parapets,
his hands gripping the stone, his face turned into the night wind.
A simple matter to climb onto one of the crenellated teeth and cast
off the mortal world. As someone confined to perpetual darkness,
Marak had considered it many times himself, and his torment was not
half so great as that of his friend.
    "She'll not
waken any time soon. Put your arse to the stool and let me tend
that arm of yours."
    "A mere cut,"
Ciaran said, waving his hand.
    "Mere insect
bites have festered and turned a limb black enough it had to be cut
off. Now sit and bite down on a leather strap if you think the
prick of needle and thread might be too much to bear."
    Tamberlane's
eyebrow inched upward. "Tell me again why I tolerate your presence
here?"
    "Because we
are both outcasts. And because if it were not for me, you would
have lost your head back on the