Warrior's Song by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

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    Â Â Â Â Graelam stood and called to the priest, "We are ready, Father."
    Â Â Â Â The man walked toward them, his head down, covered by a thick, dark-brown woolen hood, a scribe following behind him carrying a rolled parchment.
    Â Â Â Â Then, suddenly, the man threw back his hood, pulled off the wool robe, and shouted, "À Vernon! À Vernon!"
    Â Â Â Â All the soldiers garbed as servants grabbed for their swords and knives and jumped at Graelam's men. As for Graelam, he flung himself at Chandra before the words were out of the priest's mouth— no, the bastard wasn't a priest. He was a young giant and his sword was already freed from his cloak.
    Â Â Â Â He missed her. Chandra managed to knock the chair into him as she slipped out of it. His men were slow because they were drunk. Before he knew what had happened, Chandra had jerked Abaric's knife from its sheath and stabbed it into his shoulder even as he yelled in shock, knocking him out of his chair. Chandra shouted, "John, quickly, quickly. Get under Father's chair. Hurry!"
    Â Â Â Â "But, Chandra—"
    Â Â Â Â "Do as I tell you! Lady Dorothy, get you to safety with him, now!"
    Â Â Â Â The Great Hall was in pandemonium. Even as Graelam was methodically working his way to her, his sword drawn, he was shouting orders. Food and ale were hurled to the rushes as his soldiers tried to get themselves together. They were well trained, but they had drunk more ale than usual and they were slower, their brains sluggish, for they hadn't expected anything like this. But soon enough they had their weapons in hand and were fighting.
    Â Â Â Â Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Lord Richard's men who had been locked in the dungeons came running in, shouting, "À Avenell! À Avenell!"
    Â Â Â Â Chandra saw Graelam hacking his way toward her, his face grim, his concentration complete. Unlike his men, he had drunk little. She stuffed her stolen knife into her belt, then leaned down and grabbed the sword of a fallen soldier.
    Â Â Â Â Mark saw her with that sword and blanched. What the devil was she doing? Was she mad? Hysterical? He yelled, "Lady, run, get out of here, hurry."
    Â Â Â Â Chandra saw that Lady Dorothy had stuffed John beneath his father's chair. She herself was pressed back against a tapestry, out of danger.
    Â Â Â Â Chandra heard one of Graelam's men yelling curses, even as he raised his sword to drive it into Mark's back. Without hesitation, she rammed her sword through the man's side.
    Â Â Â Â Mark whirled about and gaped at her, at the bloody sword in her hand. She'd saved his life? This was the little princess Jerval spoke of, the girl he believed was overproud, filled with her own worth? He yelled at her, "Lady, thank you, but for God's sake, get you to safety. I told you to hide yourself!"
    Â Â Â Â "If I had run, you fool, you would be dead." And she laughed, pure and deep, wheeled around to drive her sword into the arm of another of Graelam's men who was hacking his way toward John.
    Â Â Â Â Graelam was drawing nearer to her even though three men were on him. He was very skilled, she thought matter-of-factly, not at all surprised, and very strong. His endurance was amazing, probably as amazing as her father's endurance when he had been Graelam's age. She felt a man's hand on her shoulder and jerked about, her sword coming up. "No, lady, I am not the enemy. I'm Jerval de Vernon. Please, let me take you out of here."
    Â Â Â Â "Oh, no," she said, and smiled at the young man whose face was streaked with sweat and trickling blood from a wound near his temple. Then he whirled about and motioned two of his men to join him.
    Â Â Â Â Three men surrounded her now. They wouldn't let her free, hacking, hacking, keeping their backs to her, keeping her in a tight circle, guarding her with their