Read A Knight's Vengeance Online
Authors: Catherine Kean
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
DEDICATION:
For my dear friend Alicia Clarke, who loved this book from its very first
draft.
Your friendship and endless encouragement are very special to me.
Thank you.
Published 2006 by Medallion Press, Inc.
"The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO
is
a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment from this "stripped book."
Copyright © 2006 by Catherine Kean
Cover Model: C.J. Hollenbach /
www.cjhollenbach.com
Cover Illustration by Adam Mock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the
authors
imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro
Printed in the United States of America
CLS 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
So many people graciously shared their enthusiasm and kindness each step of my writing journey.
For fabulous, insightful critiques and editing suggestions, I thank many times over my friends and awesome critique partners Nancy Robards Thompson, Teresa Elliott Brown, and Elizabeth Grainger. I don't know what I'd do without you!
My sincerest thanks also to my friend Cheryl Duhaime, who never fails to say, "I can't wait to read the rest;" to my dad, David Lord, who read and made suggestions on an early draft; to my mother, Shirley Lord, whose nuturing, creative soul runs rich and deep; to my sister, Amanda Lord, who read this story at least twice and gave constructive feedback.
Most of all, I must thank my husband Mike, who supported my quest to become a published author. His generous heart bears the hallmarks of a true hero.Prologue
Moydenshire, England, 1174
"Father," Geoffrey de Lanceau moaned. Wrenching his gaze from the dark outlines of the horse and animals nearby, he knelt beside the man sprawled on the stable's filthy straw.
The metallic scent of blood seared Geoffrey's nostrils. In the feeble torchlight, his father's face bore the waxy pallor of death.
Tears blurred Geoffrey's vision. His mind whirled with memories of flaming arrows.
Thundering horses.
His father's agonized roar as a sword slashed his chest. Biting down on his hand, Geoffrey fought the sobs that tore up from his belly.
Outside, the wind wailed past the stable's walls.
The lone torch inside hissed and spat.
Light glimmered on the silk surcoat crushed into the straw. The embroidered garment,
symbol
of his family's noble heritage, was soiled and torn.
Helplessness welled up inside Geoffrey like boiling pitch. As the acidic taste of bile filled his mouth, he curled his hands into fists.
He would not fail to save his father.
He had rescued his sire from the siege and found refuge. Now, he would save his father's life. He would prove himself worthy to be the son of Edouard de Lanceau, a knight whose heroism had been lauded in
chansons de geste
and praised in the king's court.
Until the king branded Edouard a traitor.
Until the king ordered Lord Arthur Brackendale to besiege the keep at Wode and kill Edouard.
Confusion and fear snaked down Geoffrey's spine. His sire was not a traitor.
"Geoffrey?" The rasped voice sounded pitifully faint.
"Please, lie still." Geoffrey pressed his palms to his father's stained shirt. Fresh blood oozed between his fingers. "Need a healer.
Poultices.
Must stitch the wounds—"
"No . . . time," Edouard whispered.
Geoffrey trembled. "Do not speak. Save your strength. The Earl of Druentwode—"
"—will
protect.
. . you now . . . as his own kin. I would do . . . same . . . for his sons."
"Nay!"
Edouard's mouth twisted into a pained smile. "Promise me . . . you will care for . . . your brother."
"Live! You
must
live. Thomas and I do not want to be orphans." Despair lodged in Geoffrey's throat like a stone. "When Mother died, you swore we—"
"Promise . . . me."
With a choked cry, Geoffrey wrenched his hands away. Panic and anger swarmed in his belly like flies. "Do not die a traitor.
Live,
Father. Prove Lord Brackendale's siege was wrong. Prove you did not betray our king."
Anguish shimmered in Edouard's gray eyes.
"Ah, my son."
The tender words clawed at Geoffrey. "I cannot make the vow." The tears he had tried so hard to hold back streamed down his cheeks. "I cannot wield a sword. I have no armor. I am naught but a
boy"
"Not boy." Edouard groped for Geoffrey's hand and squeezed it. "You are heir to the de Lanceau estates. I ask you again—"
His father's tone held urgency. With a shuddered sigh, Geoffrey nodded. He curled his small fingers into his
sire's
and held tight. "I promise
. '
Tis a vow sealed in blood."
Edouard groaned.
Gasped.
His breath expelled on a rush, faded to a gurgle, then . . . only the wind's eerie shriek.
"Father?"
Geoffrey looked down at his sire's pale, lifeless hand. In the shadows, animals stirred.
Rats scurried across the fouled straw, eyes bright in the torchlight.
"Father?"
Geoffrey's voice rose to a wail. He freed his hand and blinked away tears. Screaming, he slammed his fist
against
the dirt floor.
With trembling fingers, he reached out and closed his father's sightless eyes.
Geoffrey sobbed, shoved to his feet and staggered to the doorway. Rage and grief burned like hellfire in the pit of his stomach. "I will avenge you, Father," he cried toward the night sky shrouded with fog. "God's holy blood, I will avenge you!"