Wings of the Storm by Susan Sizemore Read Free Book Online

fever devastating his holding. "I doubt it's catching," she hastened to reassure them.
    Caffeine withdrawal wasn't, she grumbled to her-self. For their benefit she explained, "A woman's ill-ness." The tension relaxed immediately into knowing and sympathetic nods.
    "My wife's had such," the man in the silly hat said. He spoke slowly, with a thick Germanic accent.
    "She's learned much about herbs from brewing her own remedies. She might be of help, Lady Jehane."
    "Switha's a useful woman," DeCorte interjected. "This is Cerdic," he went on. "Reeve of Hwit and Passfair villages. Sir Stephan said you would want to speak with us this morning."

    Bertram handed her a heavy brass key ring. "I've been keeping these," he told her as she fingered the keys one by one. "The cook and I can help you with an inventory of the keep. Cerdic has knowledge of the villages. Sir Stephan said—"
    "And where is Sir Stephan?" she interrupted. Raoul DeCorte gave a gap-toothed grin. "Rode for Sturry at daybreak. Took most of the men with him, my lady."
    "A savings of the late-winter stores," Bertram con-tributed. He gave the others a jealous look as he added, "The inventory, my lady?"
    "Your orders, Lady Jehane?" DeCorte requested, elbowing Bertram aside.
    "Will you have need of me, my lady?" Cerdic asked with a respectful nod of his baby-cap. She won-dered if he was going to tug his forelock in an excess of loyal zeal.
    And just what threats did Sir Stephan use to gain such enthusiastic cooperation from his household? Or maybe these three mature gentlemen were just tired of chaos. Or maybe the masses liked being downtrodden. She backed a few steps from the fire, nearly tripping over one of the deerhounds in the pro-cess. It growled. So did she.
    She was the boss, was she? The men were eyeing her pensively as she considered how to proceed. She was more familiar with user-friendly software and self-service everything than with any kind of labor relations. Shorting a tip for the occasional surly waitress was about all she knew of disciplin-ing the peasants. Fortunately this bunch seemed eager to be led.
    "Woman's got to do what a woman's got to do," she said under her breath in English. She squared her shoulders, looked the trio in the eye one by one, then announced to Bertram, "I want those hounds ken-neled, the floor cleaned, and fresh rushes down by
    tonight."
    "Rushes, my lady?" Bertram asked, his wrinkles rippling with puzzlement. "At this time of year?"
    "Our lady is from a warmer land," DeCorte inter-jected gallantly while she swore to herself.
    She gave the guard sergeant a grateful look. She also remembered something her mother had told her she'd learned in the army. When in doubt, delegate.
    Mom the colonel would probably be enjoying this adventure. It was just the sort of thing she'd fanta-sized about doing ever since she'd gotten involved in the study of medieval military history. She'd become so fascinated with the whole period, she'd helped found the Medievalist Society so she could play dress-up and mock battles. And lane had grown up sharing eagerly in Mom the colonel's off-duty pastime. She'd never thought it would land her here.
    "You'll find something," she assured Bertram with a steely-eyed confidence that dared him to contradict her. He just looked at her in dumbfounded confusion.
    "We've straw enough in the stables." DeCorte came to the rescue.
    Jane began to understand the respect for sergeants her mother had brought from her tank commanding

    days. "Suitable," she agreed. The stench of the hall was beginning to make her eyes water. Her stomach was still threatening revolt. She had to get out before she threw up.
    "Fetch my cloak," she ordered the servant. "DeCorte and I will inspect the outbuildings while the hall is cleaned."
    5
    Nearly a week later, Jane was having trou-bledeciding which of several aching spots to rub when she spotted Bertram approaching from the direction of the kitchen. She squinted at him painful-ly. She only