The Night Dance by Suzanne Weyn Read Free Book Online Page A

higher ground to resume his slumber. At dawn he awoke again to find sand and pebbles covering him. It scratched him so badly that he shed his armor until he was down to his tunic, leggings, and boots. The only piece he retained was his belt with its scabbard containing Excalibur and his own sword.
    By the time Bedivere staggered off the shoreline and into Glastonbury he looked every bit the wild madman he felt himself to be.
    “Hey, you, one hand!” a richly dressed man called to him as he withdrew a fat purse from beneath his cape. “How much will you take for the sword?”
    Bedivere’s eyes darted to his lame hand. When he was in full armor he could conceal its condition under a sleeve of chain mail, but now it was exposed for the useless appendage it had become. Stung by the humiliating insult, he glowered at the man.
    “Oh come now,” the man cajoled. “You must havestolen it from some very grand fallen knight. There are quite a few of them these days I hear tell. It can be of no use to you, but my gold coins might buy you a meal—or a bath!” Chuckling at his own words, the man poured out several coins and advanced to Bedivere, his hand offering the coins.
    Slowly Bedivere withdrew Excalibur from his scabbard.
    “There’s a bright fellow,” the man said, misunderstanding Bedivere’s intention.
    Bedivere slashed the sword over the man’s head with the lightning movement he was known for. Dropping his coins, the man fled, horrified.
    Giggles and applause made Bedivere turn. Two dirty, ragged children sat on a stone curb, pleased by the display. Bedivere scooped up the dropped coins and tossed them gently in their direction. “We know where there’s a spare straw mat in beggar’s alley, but you have to be fast to get it,” one of the children, a girl of about six told Bedivere as she stuck one of the coins into the pocket of her skirt.
    “Yeah, the old man who had it died last night,” added a boy of about seven. “If you hurry I think the mat is still there.”
    With a nod of consent, Bedivere followed the excited children into the poorest part of the town. He learned that the boy was named Amren and the girl was Evanola. They led him down a narrow alley where beggars were living. “You’re in luck,” said Evanola. “Here’s the mat!”
    “We can come back with a piece of potato for you later,” Amren offered. “Mum used to have me bring it to the old man, and I don’t think she knows he’s dead yet. I’ll give it to you.”
    “How’d you hurt your hand?” Evanola asked staring at the coarse scar running across his palm.
    “In a fight,” Bedivere replied as he settled onto the moldy mat.
    “We’ll be back with that piece of potato, don’t you worry,” Amren assured him as he and his sister ran off.
    Bedivere waved to them languidly as he turned on his side and took his place among the beggars in the alleyway.

C HAPTER E LEVEN
Eleanore’s Earring
     
    If Eleanore did not get out of this darkness soon, she would go mad! She was sure of it. How long had they been wandering in these twisting, turning tunnels?
    It would be the fault of her parents if she did lose her mind. Her mother, going off and abandoning them, then suddenly appearing, years later, in some sort of a bowl—of all things!
    It was their mother that Rowena had seen; she had no doubt of it. She and Mathilde were the ones who remembered her best, being the oldest. They all looked like her in one way or another.
    Their father was to blame too. Locking them inside like prisoners! Making them so desperate to escape that they’d scramble into a tunnel with no heed for where they were going or where they might end up! And now they were lost—hopelessly lost in the dark.
    Something scrambled by her foot and Eleanore jumped back. “Careful!” cried Isolde who was right behind her. “You nearly knocked me down.”
    “I’ve caught a mouse,” said Ione, who was never squeamish about such things. “It ran across my slipper