Page 299 of Historical Hotties
Thor looked at him with concern. “What’s amiss?”
The soldier motioned to him almost frantically. “Come, my lord,” he said. “You must see this.”
He turned on his heel and began running, down a grassy slope toward one of the only un-burned structures in Millford. It was a livery, a long stone building, and no one had entered it because the sides were open. They could see what was inside—in this case, there were only a few horses tethered at one end. There were no men hiding inside that they could see. Thor, Darius, Clayne, and Truett entered the livery on the heels of the soldier, watching the man frantically point to a pile of dirty hay in one corner of the livery. It was in the shadows, tucked off in the darkness, but they could all see a pair of booted feet.
Expensive boots.
“I was walking patrol at Sir Darius’ request,” the soldier said breathlessly. “When I passed through the livery, I saw that man lying there. He is quite dead.”
The knights moved over to the pile of hay and found themselves looking down at a well-dressed warrior who looked as if he’d been smashed into bits. It was quite dark in the livery and they couldn’t get a good look at him, but what they could see—his clothing, his shoes—was well made.
Thor crouched down near the corpse, trying to get a good look at it, but it was impossible. He lifted a hand to the knights behind him.
“Find me a lamp or something for illumination,” he said to anyone who could carry out the request. “Quickly.”
Truett rushed off with the soldier, dashing to the Stafford men who were bearing torches against the dark night, and took one of them back to the livery. Truett handed it over to Thor, who held the torch over the body, trying to get a good look at the dead man’s face. It took him about five seconds to realize whom he was looking at.
“Christ,” he muttered. “That is the same bastard who tried to stop my marriage to Callie. That’s one of the de Wylde men. The son.”
Since no one else had ever seen Rotri or Domnall the day of the wedding, they had to take his word for it. “The uncle who has been trying to petition the church for a marriage between his son and Lady de Reyne?” Darius said. “Lord Dordon?”
Thor nodded. “The same,” he said. He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling as he stood up, looking around. “If the son is dead, thenwhereis the father? Was he part of the raid against Millford tonight?”
No one had an answer. They had a dead man, a burned village, and more than a dozen of the raiders as prisoners. But no Lord Dordon, who was clearly involved in some way. Thor couldn’t explain why a sense of foreboding swept him, but he motioned to the soldier who had found the body.
“Find a few men and wrap him up,” he said. “He goes with us.”
With that, he headed out of the livery with his knights around him. Up the slope, they could see the Stafford soldiers gathered, as well as the small group of prisoners. But he was feeling jumpy, apprehensive, and he kept looking at their surroundings as if expecting Rotri to pop up out of the ashes. If the son’s body was in the stable, he couldn’t imagine that the father wouldn’t be nearby.
It just didn’t make sense.
“What’s wrong, Thor?” Darius asked what they were all thinking. “What are you looking around like that?”
Thor could only shake his head. “Something is not right,” he said. “We need to return to Stafford immediately. But we’re taking the prisoners with us.”
Darius and Clayne, who had served with Thor the longest, knew the man didn’t panic without reason, but he was currently exhibiting a good deal of anxiety. Before Darius could ask him what his suspicions were, they all heard a high-pitched wail as it grew louder very quickly. Knowing what the sound was, as all fighting men did, the knights threw themselves onto the ground as a crossbow bolt sailed overhead. A second one came quickly on the heels of the first, slamming into the back of Truett’s thigh as he lay on the ground.
Under attack, the Stafford men began to scatter for cover.
More arrows were flying, but they were big bolts, not the small ones meant for men. These were larger bolts, usually meant to take down horses or warriors with a good deal of protection. Realizing they were vulnerable to whatever was flying overhead, Thor rolled over to Truett, who couldn’t sit up or move because the bolt had gone through the meaty part of his thigh and pinned him to the ground. Exposing himself after two more bolts landed close to them, Thor sat up, ripped the bolt out of Truett’s leg, and pulled the man to his feet as they ran for cover.
Thor, Darius, and Truett made it back to the livery without being hit. Clayne went with the men, rushing into the smoking ruins for cover. That left the prisoners unguarded, and they began to scatter.
Thor watched them rush off into the darkness.
“Damn,” he muttered. “We’ve lost our opportunity to find out what we’re in the middle of.”
“An ambush,” Darius said. “This is clearly an ambush, Thor. Is it possible that the de Wylde son was going to warn us and they killed him for it? It looks as if he has been beaten to death.”
Thor looked at him, pondering that question, before shaking his head in confusion. “I suppose anything is possible at this point,” he said. “But I know who would know.”
“Who?”
“Whoever is firing those bolts at us.”
Darius nodded, understanding the implication. “Capture or kill?”
“I don’t see that we have a choice unless we want to be pinned in the livery forever.”
