Page 68 of Wolf's Return
“Heard about that, did you? About her? From grouchy old man Tumas?”
“It cannot be the same Cordelia. It is not possible.”
Didier snorted. “Anything is possible if you have the knowledge. Time itself is no barrier.”
Time is no barrier?
A group of women stepped back from the merchant’s wares, bumping into them, pushing Constance into Didier. She grabbed for the dagger, heedless of doing serious injury, but a large hand slapped over hers.
“Uh, uh, ah.” Didier squeezed her fingers tight, forcing her to release the hilt. “Do not try that again, daughter. Behave, or I will truss you up like a pig for roasting.”
Constance wrenched her hand free and clutched it to her chest, her fingers smarting.
“Eveque Faucher will not care how he receives you, only that you are alive.”
Eveque Faucher?The one Seigneur Gaharet spoke of?The betrayal burned a path down her throat and settled heavy in her chest. All her life, she had longed to know who her sire was. To have him in her life and live like a normal family, as everyone in every village she had lived did. But Didier was not who she had envisioned him to be. Small wonder her mother had kept Constance’s existence a secret.
They left the square, following the main road up to the keep and the chapel. Constance struggled harder. Didier released his grip on her arm, but before she could run, he had dipped at the knees and flung her over his shoulder.
“No.”
He carried her, kicking and screaming, through the village, past the gate guards and up to the chapel. Not one soul came to her aid.
In the quiet chapel, her shrieks echoed.
Running footsteps pounded toward them. “What is the meaning of this? What are you doing with that woman? Put her down.”
Didier dumped her unceremoniously on the chapel floor, and pain shot through her hip. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair.
“Unhand her.”
Tears smarted in her eyes and Constance glanced up at her champion. The aumônier.
Another set of footsteps, brisk and purposeful, strode out of the sacristy and across the nave. “Aumônier Touissant, what is the cause of all this noise?”
Constance’s blood froze. An angel-faced priest rushed toward them.
“They say you are a witch hunter,” said Didier. “I have brought you a witch.”
A witch hunter?The Fates protect her.
“What proof do you have this woman is a witch?” asked Aumônier Touissant. He turned to the witch hunter. “This may be but a man who wishes to rid himself of a wife. Or she has refused his advances.”
“She is my daughter, and I say she is a witch.” Didier wrenched Constance’s head back, forcing her to look up at the men. “Look at her eyes.”
Aumônier Touissant frowned. “You would condemn a woman because she has eyes of different colors?”
The witch hunter pulled her from Didier’s grasp. “To the storerooms with you, witch.”
Didier grabbed hold of her arm. “Not so fast. A witch of this caliber is valuable.” He held out a hand. “Payment is required before I release her into your…care.”
The aumônier recoiled. “You would hand over your daughter as a witch forcoin?”
Didier shrugged. “Duty to the community, to the church, is all very fine, Aumônier”—he rubbed his fingers together—“but coin is far more useful.”
“Pay him,” commanded the witch hunter. “Twolivre.”
“Four,” countered Didier.
