The Sword of Aradel by Alexander Key Read Free Book Online Page B

“Anyone seeing those birds will wonder what’s going on up here. We’d better get busy.”
    She nodded and sent Tancred down the winding stairs to keep watch. But in spite of the need for haste, she could not resist a glance through one of the long arrow slits at the sprawling majesty of Rondelaine.
    â€œOh, it was so wonderful here once,” she said softly. “Everyone was happy, even the poorest peasant. There were parties out on the terrace above the courtyard, and we used to watch the archery contests and the peasant dances below. In the evenings there would be the minstrels to play and sing, and troubadours from Lombardy and Aquitaine to recite their poetry and bring us news of the world …”
    Her voice faded, and he was all at once aware of the dismal tolling of the chapel bell. It reminded him that a tyrant was dead, and that thousands of lives would depend upon the finding of Cerid’s formula.
    He started to draw her to the stairway, but suddenly she seized his arm and pointed.
    â€œLook! Look!” she whispered tensely. “Coming into the courtyard!”
    He peered over her head and across another tower at the great arched and battlemented entrance in the outer wall. The drawbridge had been lowered over the moat, and moving slowly into view on weary horses were a dozen men-at-arms and their attendants. In their midst was a motionless figure on a stretcher.
    â€œThat can’t be Albericus returning,” he muttered. “He couldn’t possibly get here before dark. But I’m sure those are some of the men he had with him at the abbey this morning.”
    â€œAnd who is that wounded one they are escorting, Sir Brian?”
    â€œHow should I know? Anyhow, I can’t make out his face from here.”
    The hint of a giggle came from her. “Do you really have to, Sir Brian?”
    â€œHuh? You—you don’t mean that’s Rupert! Why, I didn’t—”
    â€œBut you did, noble sir. You really clouted the wretch. I talked with Uncle Benedict earlier, and he said you’d given the upstart such a blow that his head is broken, which will probably keep him addled for life. And a good thing, I say. Now let us to Cerid’s room.”
    He followed her down the narrow stairway to the first landing. In front of the small, blackened door she hesitated, lip caught between her teeth, then gave it a trial push. The door swung inward at an angle, held by a single hinge.
    With the sudden movement a large flock of nesting birds flew up, making a great racket, and streamed out of the window from which a shutter had burned. The room was a blackened mess. Everything in it that was burnable had been piled together on the stone floor and set afire. Bird nests, feathers, and bits of straw covered most of the wreckage.
    For a moment Merra stood stricken, then with a little cry she darted to the burned pile and began pawing through it frantically. She stopped abruptly and drew forth a tooled and gilded corner of burned leather that had once been the cover of a fine book.
    â€œOh, no!” she gasped.
    â€œWhat is it?” Brian asked.
    â€œCerid’s Bible. It—it was specially done for her by Brother Meritus, who used to be the scribe at St. Martin’s. It took him five years to copy it and make the illuminations. Oh, it was such a beautiful book! And—and she more than treasured it because it was a gift from Alain and Andrea, her best friends.”
    â€œWho were Alain and Andrea?”
    She turned and looked at him strangely a moment, tears streaming down her face. “Alain was Gratian’s son. He—he was the prince of Aradel. Andrea was his princess.” Then in a broken whisper she added, “And Albericus killed them—and my father, too!”
    All at once she jumped up, her face contorted, and screamed, “That rotten beast! That animal! I’ll claw his eyes out! I’ll bind him to that post by the