Suzanne Robinson by The Legend Read Free Book Online

hair was disappearing quickly, and he walked like a chicken, darting his head forward with each step. Galen had saved his life in battle, and Ralph went wherever Galen did. Unfortunately for Ralph, he’d acquired a taste for the small luxuries afforded a rich nobleman—and the nobleman’s manservant—while Galen was indifferent to them.
    “God save your lordship, but you’d better come inside.”
    Galen set the bucket down and put his fists on his hips. “For God’s mercy, Ralph, I told you there’s nothing to fear. The village folk are an ignorant lot and see apparitions and shades in every patch of mist and fog.”
    “It be Lady Rowena’s shade they’re seeing, lordship.” Ralph peered around the keep, eyeing the long shadows cast by the abandoned towers. “Only two days hence Snel the goatherder saw her a weeping and moaning in Ditchley Vale. She was pale, and she—she glowed with supernatural light!”
    “Snel the goatherd leaves milk in little wooden bowls on his doorstep for fairies to drink during the night.”
    Ralph goggled at him. “And they do?”
    “No,” Galen replied with irritation. “No, Ralph, they don’t. If there are fairies, they’ve magic enough to get their own food. And there’s no shade of Lady Rowena either.”
    He wasn’t about to mention the strange sounds he’d heard a few nights ago. He’d been coming home from a long walk, and darkness had come early in the midst of the thick forest of Durance Guarde. He’d turned around a sharp bend in the path that led to the castle and encountered a wraithlike figure. It had been hanging in the air, obscured by saplings and the moss that hung from tree branches. He had taken a step toward it, and it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. When he moved farther off the path, he realized he was seeing the glow of light from one of the castle windows. What an addlepate. He’d had real visions too many times to take fright at his own imaginings.
    “Better come in before the sun goes down, lordship.”
    Sighing, Galen started toward the keep. “Go on. I’ll watch the sun set before dinner. And this time mind those quail. I spent all morning trapping them, and I don’t want them burned; I want them roasted.”
    “Er, then you’d better come to dinner now, lordship.”
    Galen followed Ralph inside and over to the circular fireplace that once served as the only heatin the great hall. A spit had been erected over a pile of burning logs, and Ralph was barely in time to keep the quail from turning black. In spite of the manservant’s complaining Galen was glad of his company. He loved his brothers, but the four of them were difficult to manage all at once, and when they sensed trouble they descended upon him like vultures. Each was eager to help; each had a different opinion of what Galen should do about his problems, and only Fulk refrained from expressing it.
    The de Marlowe gifts made them different from most aristocratic families. To survive they’d kept together, fostered to the household of a Welsh prince, a relative who knew their secret. Such closeness was unusual among the aristocracy. Look at the royal family. Brother would kill brother for the throne. Galen’s brothers would give their lives for him. That was what he feared. Even knowing about this vision risked one’s life, and he wanted to spare Simon, Macaire, Fulk, and Fabron.
    Galen dragged his attention back to the meal. The balding crown of Ralph’s head gleamed as he plopped quail onto a wooden tray, and they began to eat. That is, Galen ate and Ralph complained. Ralph was a city man.
    “I miss the cookshops in London, I do. Never had better venison than at Eda’s shop in Candlewick Street.”
    “Hmm.”
    “Makes a lovely cameline sauce, does Eda.”Ralph took another bite of his quail and winced. “Got a crick in me neck from that horrible pallet you make me sleep on, lordship. Back home I got a nice trundle bed with a lovely mattress stuffed with straw and