The Shattered Rose by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online Page B

Lowick over a slow fire. That I vow! And as for that bitch—"
    Galeran stopped him with a look too. "No one will touch Jehanne except me. No one."
    "Fine," said Gilbert with a snarl, "but I want to watch!"
    Before Galeran could respond to that, a man burst in. "My lords, the gates are opening!"
    Thank God.
    Galeran fought the need to collapse with relief and turned on his heel to sweep out like the vengeful lord and master he was supposed to be.
    The woods clamored with bird song now, and the sun pinkened the rim of the sky, shooting the first bright rays up into the gloom. It was the first dawn chorus Galeran had heard since coming home, and despite everything, his heart swelled.
    He looked toward Heywood, and even through the morning mist the sun touched the white walls gold, showing clearly the open castle gate and the uncertain dark beyond.
    Today the walls were bare of people—soldiers or women.
    He gestured for his horse, the simple gelding he'd bought in Stockton. Raoul brought him over, along with his own mount.
    "This is no business of yours," Galeran said. "My family is staying here to see if I'm spitted on sight. You could stay with them."
    "Oh, I wouldn't miss this for a whole beam of the True Cross."
    "I'm glad we're providing you with entertainment."
    Galeran mounted and turned to his men, the small group who had returned with him from the Holy Land. "Remember, this is my castle, held by my wife. I expect to be welcomed. But we do not know for certain who holds the power in Heywood. If there's trouble, I want no heroics. Break free and return to the camp to serve under my father. He will avenge me."
    There was a muttering of discontent, but Galeran said, "On your oaths, obey me."
    Then he turned his horse toward his home.
    Nothing moved. The castle appeared deserted—almost magically so in the dawn light and mist—but it couldn't be. With the encircling army drawn back, it was possible that a few people had slipped away, but not the whole garrison and population. Heywood normally held some fifty people.
    He hoped that Lowick had gone. That was a good part of the reason for the delay in surrender. Having to kill the man would just complicate a complex situation.
    Galeran's greatest fear was that Jehanne and his son had left with him.
    He rode forward bareheaded again, so that no one could have any doubt that he was in truth Galeran of Heywood, lord of this demesne. So that no one could claim they fired on him by mistake.
    No arrow hummed out of a narrow slit. No cross-bow bolt streaked to pierce him. Then he was before the walls, too close for that kind of attack.
    His skin prickled as he clattered through the open gate and into the shadow of the thick stone walls. There was a murder hole in the arch here that could pour down pitch or scorching sand. . . .
    But nothing fell, and beyond in the bailey the garrison stood in two rigid lines, awaiting him.
    They looked scared to death.
    As well they might.
    Some of the weight slid from Galeran's shoulders. This part, at least, was going to be all right.
    He rode into their midst, halted, and dismounted, the jingle of harness and rattle of his mail the only sounds. Signaling to his men to stay on their horses just in case, he slowly, silently, looked around.
    Beyond the rigid, pale-faced soldiers, the castle folk hovered nervously, women clutching wide-eyed children, old people staring with predictions of suffering in their weary eyes.
    Where was Jehanne?
    She wouldn't be with the peasantry. If this were a normal homecoming, she would be on the keep steps waiting to give him a formal welcome. She might even be running down into the bailey to greet him with a smile and an edged comment denied by glowing eyes.
    She was nowhere to be seen.
    If she had fled with her lover, should he let her go?
    Not if she'd taken his son.
    The dense silence pressed on him, almost strangling speech, but he swallowed and raised his voice. "Does anyone here not accept me as his liege, as