The Wretched of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood #1)

He stood quickly then went to the tent flap. “I will tell Colvin you have awoken.” He parted the curtain and looked outside. “By Idumea, what is happening?” he said, almost to himself.

Lia pulled away the blankets and joined him at the entryway. She heard the voice before she saw the speaker. It was loud and strong and throbbed with emotion. Outside the pavilion, a hundred men clustered around a wagon. The speaker, an aging knight-maston, stood atop. His face was spattered with blood and grime, so much so that she could hardly make out any features except his dark hair, wavy and matted with sweat. A helmet nestled in the crook of his arm and his maston sword hung from a scabbard at his side. His voice was hoarse and raspy, and it reminded her of the Aldermaston.

“I am told by the king’s herald that many fell on the fields of Winterrowd this day. The numbering is now done. Bodies are being laid to rest in mother earth. In number, over eight thousand were killed from the king’s army.” A gasp and sigh went through the camp. “All the day long I have been plagued with questions. How many of our brothers have fallen? Do I know what happened to a lad carried away from the field in blood? How many who stood beneath our banner fell this day? I know that Trowbridge and Holland are still with the surgeons. Many of you sustained grave wounds today. But here it is, nearly dusk.” He looked up at the red-rimmed sky and swallowed his surging emotions. “By Idumea’s grace alone, there is none of ours fallen this day. Not one. I am…I am astonished beyond measure.”

Another rush of sentiment began to churn, but Demont held his hand high into the air. Lia saw the gray flecks in his hair above his ears, watched as the crowd fell silent. His lip trembled. “It is through the will of the Medium that we owe our victory. Let no man who was here this day declare otherwise. My brothers…the day is ours.”

Lia saw the tears tremble on his lashes, and she knew what he was thinking. His thoughts were choked with visions of Maseve and the battle his own father lost.





CHAPTER THIRTY TWO:


Muirwood Abbey





Before midnight, two days later, they arrived at Muirwood on horseback. Lia had fallen asleep in the saddle again, her face pressed against Colvin’s back, while the village around Muirwood showed no signs of life. The gates of the abbey were closed. A few lamps flickered beyond soot-stained windows in the small huddle of buildings on High Street. The leaves from robust oaks sighed with the breezes.

Colvin approached the gate on horseback, and a porter was waiting there with a lantern. “The gates do not open until morning, my lord,” he said blearily.

“Tell the Aldermaston that…”

“He knows you are coming, Lord Price. I was to wait up for you. The Aldermaston left rooms for you at the Pilgrim Inn. Over yonder. Be ready then, in the morning, to present yourselves. You will be summoned when the gates open.”

“Thank you,” Colvin replied and tugged the reins to turn the stallion about. Edmon and several other horsemen followed to the inn.

“It did not take long to reach here,” Edmon said thoughtfully, then yawned. “Are you still going to hold a vigil for her?”

He stared at the inn, remembering vividly the last time he had come and who had rescued him. For a moment, he was prisoner to those memories. Wordlessly, he nodded.

“I will join you then. For her sake. She deserves the best room.” Edmon dismounted and helped steady her as Colvin slid off the stallion. He carried her up the stairs himself.



Lia awoke on the softest stuffed mattress, beneath the cleanest sheets, and resting amidst the plumpest pillows in the entire village. Warmth shimmered from the brazier. Lifting her head, she looked around and slowly recognized the room. There was the table where days before, the sheriff’s men had eaten the feast and fallen asleep while she rescued Colvin. The noise that had awakened her was the door as it butted open and in came a girl she recognized from that adventure, Bryn, carrying a long brown dress and fresh girdle. In the other hand, she carried a tray of bread and some white cheese.

“I am sent to help you,” Bryn said cheerily. “The Aldermaston’s steward just arrived from the tunnels. He is to take you back now, but we must clean you up first.”

Lia swung her legs over the side of the bed, squeezing the sheets and mattress, savoring their softness. “Am I alone? I do not even remember arriving last night.”

“Were you expecting mastons to sleep here with you all alone?” She set the tray on the table and crossed to the window and opened the shutters to peek outside. “Most slept in rooms down the hall. Two guard your door even now. The earl of Forshee, he stayed awake all night in the common room. So did the earl of Norris-York. We asked them if they were weary, and they said they were not. They are waiting in the kitchen for you now with Prestwich. Do you remember me? Can you not tell me your name still?”