Gisborne: Book of Pawns by Prue Batten Read Free Book Online Page B

Gisborne. You may have forgotten.’
    I swept past them into the inn and heard Halsham mutter. ‘Arrogant, but a beauty.’
    Gisborne’s footsteps sounded behind me. Through the door as I glanced back, I could see Halsham walking along the street whistling and the sussurating sound sent a shiver sliding down my spine.
    ‘So polite, Ysabel.’
    ‘ I didn’t like him. ’
    Guy’s eyebrows rose. ‘A quick assessment, surely. ’
    ‘He has an air. ’
    ‘He said the same of you.’
    ‘What he thi nks of me matters little. What were you doing with him?’
    He sat and beckoned to th e serving wench who gave him that eye that all maids did. Honestly, it was like an affliction!
    ‘I had business with him, ’ he said.
    ‘He looks remarkably dishonest. Not at all the kind with whom I imagine my father would do business, I am sure .’
    ‘It wasn’t your father’s business. It was mine.’
    ‘Huh, I’ll bet he has dishonest dealings.’
    ‘Ysabel,’ he hissed, his palm slapping the table in front of me, ca using heads to turn. ‘He has just returned from J erusalem via Antioch and Malta. In fact he had news of my father. Now are you happy?’
    The maid put a tankard of ale in front of me with a wooden platter with a trencher of bread soa ked in some fragrant onion and meat juices. She smirked at my chastened expression.
    Vile wench!
    ‘Your father. He is well? ’
    ‘He is dead.’
    ‘Guy...’
    I reached to touch his hand and he flinched.
    ‘It is no matter.’
    The topic of his father was thrown out lik e pigswill. ‘Leave it alone’ was the message. Any vestige of care disappeared from his face, wiped as cleanly as if he had washed it with a cloth. His secrets, all of them, were buried so deep inside his soul that I wondered what it would take, or even who, to reveal such.
    But his father’s death was surely only a fraction of what Halsham had imparted . Patently I could not ask anymore out of respect for the grievous news so I wondered if I could inveigle more detail on the ill-made news bearer.
    ‘ Halsham is a knight? ’
    ‘Indeed , as the introduction indicated . ’ Sarcasm fell to the table amongst the breadcrumbs.
    ‘H e has fought in the Holy Land?’
    ‘I thought you didn’t like him and yet you show inordinate interest in the man. To answer you, he has fought in many places. He is a Free Lancer.’
    ‘Really.’ My attention was piqued as I chewed on the bread. ‘A mercenary. ’
    ‘Yes.’
    In an instant I recalled what I thought abou t chessboards and Guy’s future.
    ‘Guy, you don’t perchance think to become a Free Lancer yourself?’
    He coughed on his food and his eyes opened just a fraction wider and if I knew anythi ng, I would say he dissembled.
    ‘I am your father’s steward , Lady Ysabe l. That is all you need concern yourself with at this point.’
    ‘Hmm.’ I t apped the table with my finger, my eyes meeting his deep blue ones. ‘Remember this, Sir Gisborne. Secrets are dangerous.’
     
    We wandered through the town and watched p eople go about their business. The sun shone and we checked at the livery that our horses were fit and shod ready for an early departure on the morrow and I fed Khazia a crust of my bread. We left Halsham far behind in our perambulations a nd we talked again of ballads and such which seemed to be Guy’s great love. We stopped at a tavern that had trestles in the sun and as I sat back under the pergola over which grapevine threaded, I asked Guy to tell me one of the stories he knew.
    ‘O ne of the Welsh or Irish ones. You seem to know so many.’
    He seemed so relaxed as he sat back, no evidence of the kind of grief that lurked in my heart waiting to jump forth. If I were a cynic, I would have said the news of his father’s death released something in him but knew it was pointless to ask. He stretched his long legs out, hand s clasped over his middle.
    ‘I s hall tell you the one of Finn. Some call him Fionn. It’s a good tale.’
    I