The Uncrowned Queen by Posie Graeme-evans Read Free Book Online Page A

tonight.”
    It was the slithering hiss that alerted them—the sound of steel being drawn from a metal scabbard—but too late. Edward’s hand flew to the pommel of his own sword but he knew it was pointless.
    â€œDrop your sword, messire.”
    Edward’s heart hammered painfully as he made out the number of men surrounding his own small band. How could they have been so careless, and so stupid? The crossroads was ringed by trees, many still in last leaf. It was a perfect hiding place for armed men, and now they were caught.
    His assailant repeated the request. “Your sword, sir, if you please.” Edward nodded reluctantly and carefully extended his sword arm, his mind racing. The man had spoken in courteous French, presuming he was understood, and Edward was suddenly hopeful. Perhaps their captors did not know whom they had bailed up.
    The Frenchman leaned down from his horse and twitched the blade from the king’s fingers. His eyes glittered in the gloom when he saw what he had.
    â€œBut this is a very good sword, messire. Where did you get it?” The Frenchman spoke quietly; perhaps he did not want his men to hear. Suddenly it made sense. These men were outlaws, wolvesheads. Perversely, that gave Edward confidence.
    â€œI will give it to you, and more besides, if you will help us.”
    The leader of the wolfpack laughed heartily. “‘If you will help us’? Us, help you! Now, that is the strangest thing I have heard in all the days of my life.”
    Suddenly the man’s sword was at Edward’s throat. English hands went to English swords in a dangerous breath.
    â€œI do not think it is for us to help you, messire. On the contrary.”Confident he was backed by his men, the Frenchman leaned from his horse again and ripped Edward’s expensive sword belt and scabbard from his body. Richard’s riding cloak was about to follow when Edward whispered, “Do not be a fool, my friend. You’ll get more money in letting us live. Draw!”
    Edward’s bellow rang through the gloom and in an instant the English were clamped around their king, knee to knee in a dense mass. The overconfident outlaw leader was suddenly in their midst, on his increasingly panicked horse. He was ringed by drawn blades, English blades, and the air was dizzy with the promise of blood.
    The Frenchman sat back in his saddle and removed his sword from Edward’s throat. “Ah. Touché. Clever. And well disciplined.”
    Edward held out his hand. “My sword.”
    After a moment, the Frenchman gave it to him, though his men protested loudly. He had no other choice.
    â€œBut this will not save you, sir, because, as you see, my condition as your… guest… can only be temporary.”
    The outlaw had courage and Edward liked that, especially since he now had his own sword point at his former assailant’s neck.
    â€œGet down.” The king said it mildly, but when the Frenchman appeared not to understand, he repeated it in a frigid tone. “I said, get down.”
    The Frenchman shrugged and slid from his horse’s back. “And so, what now, Englishman?”
    Edward smiled as he mounted the outlaw’s horse. Though thin, it was a much better animal than he’d been riding for the last few days. “You depress me. I thought I spoke your language without accent.”
    â€œSpeak French like a Frenchman? Bah! English arrogance.” Even off his horse, the little man was cocky, a bantam with formidable spurs. That, too, made Edward smile.
    â€œTell me your name, Frenchman. I should like to know it.”
    â€œBefore you die, Englishman?”
    They were bantering now, quite enjoying themselves, while the men from both sides waited tensely to see what would develop.
    â€œHold him a little tighter, if you please, Richard.” The king gathered up the reins of the outlaw’s rangy bay and settled himself comfortably into the