Lord Of Danger by Stuart, Anne (free ebook reader for android txt) 📗

her pouts and her tears and her captivating beauty. Until he’d come home from a grueling two-week hunt to find her rollicking in his bed with two of his best friends.

He hadn’t gone near her since. All her tears, her pleading had left him stonily unmoved, and gradually she centered her attentions on other, more fertile ground. She’d been gone more than a year now, living like a queen with one of Richard’s wealthy barons, and Thomas lived like a soldier-monk. He had made vows before God, and a faithless wife wasn’t going to cause him to break those vows.

He had lost his faith in Richard as well. Richard the unjust, the trickster, the sly, amoral fox who owned his loyalty, owned his good right arm and anything else he happened to need. The years had passed, and the other knights mocked Thomas as a man old before his time, a sour plague of a man, but he ignored them. Sooner or later he’d meet an enemy who was faster, more clever, more desperate, and it would be over. He would welcome the end if that was the way it was to come to him. He would never return north to the estates his father had left him, not without a wife and the future of children. That was no longer a possibility, not with Gwyneth cavorting with her wealthy baron.

There was one more possibility left in a bleak life, one chance that he could take. Richard was not noted for his kindness or decency, but every now and then he behaved with becoming generosity. Thomas could only pray that generosity would extend to him.

It was early, just past the first light, but Richard was awake. He slept little, smart enough not to trust in his men-at-arms to keep him safe. It was in the early morning that he conducted most of his business, and he’d agreed to grant Thomas an audience. He was seated at a table, his crimson robe wrapped loosely around his corpulent body, his thinning hair sticking out like straw. His eyes narrowed as he spied Thomas, but his mouth creased in a deceptively affable grin.

He wasn’t alone. The wizard stood in the background, watching. The man was the spawn of the devil, Thomas knew that, and it took all his strength of will not to cross himself superstitiously when the man they called Grendel looked at him. But he’d been trained well. He stood straight and tall, facing his master, ready to ask for one last chance to find peace in this life.

“Thomas!” Richard greeted him. “You look grim this morning. But then, you always look grim, do you not? You should partake of more wine and less prayer. How goes your lady wife?”

“I have no idea, my lord. She lives with Baron Hawkesley.”

“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten,” said Richard, who forgot nothing. “A merry soul, our Gwyneth. Too much of a trial for you, I gather? Learn to hold your women, Thomas. That’s the best advice I can give you. You should have beaten her more often. They learn to like it.”

Thomas merely bowed, not about to involve himself in a moral or philosophical discussion with Lord Richard. “I request a boon of you, my lord,” he said instead.

“So I gathered. And what is this boon? I’m not the man to grant you an annulment—you’ll have to go to the pope for that. There are no new crusades for you to shed your blood over, no holy martyrs to follow.”

It would be useless to hesitate. Instead he said boldly, “I would be released from my duties to join the brothers of Wildern Abbey.”

Richard’s expression didn’t change. Thomas allowed himself a brief glance at the magician who served him, but those cat’s eyes were guarded. There would be neither help nor hindrance from that quarter.

“Why?” Richard said finally, toying with the goblet in front of him. “If you wish to leave my service you have lands and family to see to.”

“I feel called to serve God. This world is too shallow and difficult a place for me. I can best fulfill my duties through prayer and meditation, and serving others…”

“You serve me very well in your present capacity,” Richard said. He looked over his shoulder at his magician. “Did I ever tell you, Simon of Navarre, about sober young Sir Thomas? He’s quite the most prodigious fighting man I’ve ever had. He can outfight three men to one, and in a tournament he’s unbeaten. I count him as one of my most treasured possessions.”

Thomas didn’t allow any expression to cross his face, knowing his cause was lost.

“I believe you mentioned it, my lord,” the man said in his low voice that echoed of magic and madness.

“You know, it’s a shame I wasted a fancy creature like Gwyneth on a sober creature like you, Thomas,” Richard said idly. “You’re much better suited to one like my sister. She wanted to be a nun, but of course I couldn’t waste a valuable treasure like her on a convent. Sisters have some value, you know.”

“Indeed,” Thomas muttered.

“But then, I wouldn’t waste her on a lowly knight of indifferent lineage, no matter how renowned his fighting skills. You’ll follow me, you’ll do as I order, and I don’t need to throw away a sister on you. Isn’t that the truth of it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And I have no intention of wasting you on a monastery, either. They sit around and grow fat on the tithes of their betters. You’re a man who needs to earn his keep, Thomas. You’re a knight, a soldier. A man who lives by the sword, not prayer.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then you know you’ll be staying with me?” Richard was enjoying this, God rot his soul. And there was nothing Thomas could do about it. He’d taken a vow. He’d taken far too many vows in this life, and he couldn’t break a single one of them. Only if God chose to release him. And it didn’t look