Page 86 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
He approached the archway. Reaching out, he almost touched it. Just one step more…
A sharp cry rang out and the shapes in the courtyard began to move. Torches flared to reveal a company of men waiting, swords drawn.
It was a trap.
About a dozen men swarmed out of the archway. Bloodlust raised, Harald swung his axe at the first to approach him, sending his head flying across the rubble, a stream of blood in its wake. He roared out his battle cry and swung his axe at the next man, slicing him in two.
Wulfstan’s orders rang out, followed by shouts of his men and the clash of steel, sending sparks into the night. This is what they’d trained for—to defeat the enemy. Yet the enemy was not William, nor the Normans—but the man who had sought to destroy Harald to satisfy his own individual greed.
He was at Hastings again, but this time, he did not fight for a fickle king he had not believed in—he fought for the woman he loved.
The woman he loved.
Eloise…
The hesitation cost him precious time. His axe was buried deep in the skull of his latest victim. He yanked it from the corpse, but was too late—the next man was upon him. He raised his shield and deflected a blow, but he fell back, onto a rock. The impact forced the breath from his lungs.
Ears ringing he opened his eyes and saw his enemy approach.
“Saxon dogs!” he spat. “We’ll destroy you like vermin.”
He raised his sword. Harald had no defense. His only hope was that Edwin would break through—that his brother would find Eloise and give her the life she deserved.
The man howled and toppled forward. A tall shape stood behind him, brandishing a bloodied sword. Edwin.
“I didn’t know you were a warrior, brother,” Harald said.
Edwin wiped the sword, then sheathed it. “Even the most unlikely man will take up arms if need demands it—and strength comes in many forms.”
The battle was over. Death had come swiftly to the men guarding the ruin. Harald’s men had survived, though two were injured. He ordered the rest to follow him.
On the opposite side of the courtyard, a door led into the building. Harald reached it and froze as a scream came from within.
That scream—he’d heard it before.
Eloise!
He pulling the door open, and, ignoring Wulfstan’s warning, he sprinted toward the sound. A figure leaped out from the darkness, knocking Harald sideways. Wulfstan drove his sword into the man’s chest, then helped Harald to his feet.
What a fool he was! Her screams had driven out all rationality from his mind in his desperation to get to her.
A man’s scream echoed from ahead, then eerie laughter followed—a witch’s cackle to fuel his deepest fears and bring forth images from tales of old, of demons sent from hell to condemn the sinful.
“God save us, what’sthat?” Wulfstan whispered.
“That’s no witch, Wulfstan,” Edwin scoffed. “It’s a woman. Whatever fanciful beliefs you have, a rational explanation will always exist.”
Wanting to believe his brother, yet fearing the worst, Harald gripped his axe, and advanced toward the sound.
The voice came from behind a door halfway along the passageway. Harald flung it open, and almost dropped his axe at the sight before him.
Edwin had been wrong. The door led into hell.
Crouching over its prey was a demon. White flesh glistened in the candlelight, bathed in red. Body swollen, teeth bared, the creature snarled at him in fury. At its feet lay a man—or what had once been a man—a naked corpse, covered in blood.
He stepped forward and the demon snarled again before lunging at him, the glint of a knife in the candlelight his only warning and he jumped back.
“What manner of devilry is this?” Harald cried.
