The Protector by Madeline Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

because my time is over, boy.”
    “I promise you that we will hold. No matter how long it takes, until help comes we will hold, or else we will fight to the last man—”
    “Nay, you must petition for terms. With me gone, the men will break. Hunger would have defeated them already, but for their loyalty to me.”
    “It is too late. What terms can men get who surrender on the brink of defeat?”
    “Not for you and the men. For the women. Get that laird's word that they can leave. Send them to Edward. A knight must protect the weak, boy, and now you must do what must be done to save the ladies.”
    He barely got the last words out. He closed his eyes again. His whole body seemed to shrink, like speech had robbed it of substance.
    Another weak gesture, telling him to leave. He did not. He called for his mother and sister, and held the death vigil with them while the sounds of battle poured in through the windows. He stood there, holding that still hand, hoping that the bravery and strength of the great Hugh Fitzwaryn would pass into his son when he breathed his last.
    In the hour before dawn he left the chamber and went to the lord's solar, no longer a boy. He ordered the steward to send a herald to negotiate, and then prepared himself. He dressed in hisfinest garments, and strapped his father's sword to his waist. He was tall for his age, but the tip still scraped the floor.
    He sought out the priest and confessed, then prayed in the chapel. He did not visit his mother, for she would try to dissuade him.
    The castle yard fell silent when he emerged from the keep. The men watched solemnly, embarrassed that a ten-year-old boy must offer his own life in a desperate bid to save theirs.
    He marched on bravely, the way his father had taught him a knight walks. He passed through the yard where five months ago he had played with a ball and where he had practiced with a sword made of wood.
    He paused at the open gate, and glanced back to the keep. His mother stood at its threshold, gauntly pale from hunger, dark eyes glowing like jewels. The child in him wanted to run back to the comfort of her arms.
    He faced the gate. Death waited on the other side….
    The chamber stunk of corrupted flesh and death.
    He awoke to dampness, heat, and unbearable weakness. It took him awhile to recognize the canvas walls and wooden roof.
    With effort he turned his head. A man twisted painfully on the cot beside him, half exposing his naked body. Dark boils marked the hairy arm and flank. The man mumbled, and he tried in vain to recognize the vague voice. He hoped that it wasn't Gregory.
    His own cot was soaked and clammy and his body was drenched in sweat. Several furs weighed on his weakness and smothered him with their heat. He considered throwing them off, but every muscle shrank from the thought of moving.
    Was he almost dead? He felt more tired than he had ever been in his life. Even a day of fighting did not leave his body this useless.
    The cool air on his face was delicious, like a drink of ale after battle. Focusing his strength, he pulled his right arm from under the furs and let it fall limply. His fingers, free now, stroked the fur's rich nap.
    He touched something silky and fine mixed with the fur. Wrapping his hand in the new texture, he rubbed the soft threads between his thumb and palm.
    Hair. Woman's hair. He slowly shifted his body and bent his neck until he could see.
    Anna sat on the floor beside him, her body turned so that her sleeping head could rest on the cot's edge, nestled in the crook of her right arm. She wore only hose and a man's undertunic. Her upraised arm pulled the fabric around the curve of a breast. A round, full, feminine breast. He could see part of its swell through the gaping neck of the tunic. She bound herself when she wore men's garments, he realized.
    The hose displayed shapely hips and legs. It would be very pleasant to caress those sinuous curves. He decided that he must not be almost dead if he was