Wings of the Storm by Susan Sizemore Read Free Book Online Page B

have no women of your own to attend you."
    "They died on the journey," she recounted hastily.
    "Of course, my lady. But you really should not go unattended," he persisted. "It is not—"
    "Proper," she finished for him. She felt a great deal of fondness for Bertram. She wondered what he would have been if he had lived in her time. The CEO of a major corporation, perhaps.
    She tucked her hands in the voluminous sleeves of her gown and gave a judicious nod. "Quite right, good Bertram." She looked at him speculatively out of the eye not swollen shut. "You know where I might find a decent woman or two to serve me?"
    He gave a decisive nod. "There are three young vil-lage widows you might choose from. They lost their men in the winter's fever. Cerdic can bring them for your inspection."
    Mention of the village and its reeve reminded Jane that she hadn't yet inspected the houses or tithe barn, or any of the demesne beyond the fortress's wooden outer walls. She said, "Yes. I must talk to Cerdic."
    She picked up her cloak from where she'd left it on the top step. "Where would the reeve be this time of day?"
    Bertram wasn't sure, but he gave her directions to the reeve's house. "Shall I come with you. Lady Jehane?"
    "No need." She patted the old man's arm. "I need you here to manage while I'm gone." He lifted his head at her words, his bent shoulders straightening a bit.
    She walked off, happy her slight praise brought him some pleasure. She walked slowly toward the gate, her sore hip reminding her it wasn't happy at all with this walking nonsense. She told it exercise was the best thing for the stiffness. At the gate one of the stable lads hurried past her, no doubt sent by Bertram to warn the reeve of her impending visit. She sup-posed his forethought saved her the additional exer-cise of searching out Cerdic. She didn't try to hurry her steps but carefully made her way down the rutted track leading to the group of low, thatched huts clus-tered at the foot of the hill. It had rained last

    night, and her hem had an extra border of mud by the time she reached Passfair village.
    She found the house without trouble; it was the largest daub-and-wattle hut in the village, after all.
    Cerdic was there, hurriedly back from whatever task he'd been overseeing. He greeted her with a respect-ful bob of his head. He'd taken off his hat, revealing a wealth of gray-tinged red-gold curls.
    The Saxon reeve knew every inch of Stephan's two villages, fields and orchards and pastures and mill and barns and houses. Jane walked him over the well-trodden ground, asking questions as they went.
    The sunny day brought a hint of warmth in the air; several of the small fields were greening with early wheat and barley crops. She found out it was late February and that the river running beneath the mill wheel was theStour. He told her eighteen people had died during the winter fever and that there were twenty-one fami-lies in Hwit, which was on the river, and eleven fami-lies in Passfair.
    They walked to the edge of the wood where Jane first arrived. Now that she saw it on foot rather than on horseback, the place seemed somehow more formidable, dark and mysterious. Bare branches seemed to reach out for her, or beckon
    her onward to explore ancient secrets.
    All right, all right, she told herself. There was nothing dark and wild about the place. It was where they pastured the pigs and gathered firewood and—
    "There are outlaws in the woods," Cerdic told her, breaking in on her mental catalog.
    Jane jumped. "What?" she squeaked nervously. She remembered now that Stephan had warned her.
    "A band of outlaws."
    "Not like Robin Hood, I bet." The words slipped out before she could catch them.
    The reeve blinked his china blue eyes at her in momentary confusion. "Robin Hood's band was in the north. InLincolnshire, I'm told. Or Sherwood. This forest is the Blean. Sikes's band of brigands is smaller but not so kindly. Though the Robin Hood band was in my father's time.