Lara Read Free

you are a poor man,” Bevin said quietly. “But the faerie you mated with left you a most valuable gift in the person of the lass.”
    “And what is to happen to the girl, John Swiftsword, if you do not sell her?” Rafe asked. His direct gaze pierced the mercenary’s own.
    John Swiftsword nodded. “I know I have no choice in this matter,” he replied to them. “I will go tomorrow and speak with Gaius Prospero myself.”
    “Come just after sunrise to be measured so I may begin working on your armor,” Rafe told him. “We want time to make any adjustments needed.” He downed the remaining ale in his tankard and, standing, bid the other two men farewell.
    “You are doing the right thing,” the swordsmith told John. “What good is the girl to you now that she is grown? You have a good wife, and a little son to consider now. Your daughter’s beauty will give her the future that you surely cannot.”
    John Swiftsword nodded slowly in reluctant agreement, and then he ordered them each another tankard of ale. He said nothing to Susanna when he returned home late, and the next morning he left their hovel to go into the Golden District, where the magnates had their City homes. He had dressed carefully in his best tunic—he had but two. He had polished his worn boots. His sword hung from a wide leather belt.
    Reaching the tall gates of the Golden District, he said to the two guardsmen who guarded those gates, “I am John Swiftsword of the Guild of Mercenaries. I have come to speak with Gaius Prospero.”
    “Are you expected?” one of the guardsmen asked.
    “I do not know if I am or not,” John answered.
    “Wait while we check,” the guardsman replied. Then turning he went back into the little guardhouse, and leaning out a window that opened beyond the gates he called out for a messenger to come.
    John waited. Riders and travel wagons carrying the women who lived in the Golden District came in and out of the great gates. He could glimpse what appeared to be a parkland beyond those portals as they opened and closed. Finally after some time had passed the first guardsman motioned him forward.
    “You must leave your sword with me, and then you may be admitted,” he said.
    “You know who I am,” the mercenary replied, “and I will find my sword here when I return?”
    “Do I look like a common thief?” the guardsman responded indignantly.
    “Nay, not at all, but so many pass by here, and you could be distracted,” John quickly said. “The sword is my livelihood.”
    “I understand,” the guardsman replied. “I am a member of the guild, too, John Swiftsword. I was injured several years ago, but was fortunate to obtain this post. Your sword will be safe in my care. Now go! Gaius Prospero doesn’t like to be kept waiting. You will find a conveyance directly inside the gate that will transport you to his house.” He then took John’s sword from his hands, and ushered him through the gates where the cart was awaiting the visitor. John climbed aboard, and the vehicle moved quickly away from the entrance to the Golden District.
    All around him was an incredibly beautiful green parkland. There seemed to be huge trees everywhere, and the grass was neatly manicured. They trotted down a well-paved road. Here and there through the greensward and trees he could see great houses of shining white marble. He had never imagined a place such as this within the City, and Susanna had said nothing about it. How like her, he smiled to himself, to want him to be surprised, and see for himself. And it was quiet. Several feet past the entrance the cacophony of the City had disappeared entirely. He wondered if the Garden District, where the Crusader Knights lived, was quiet like this, too. A man could actually think in such quiet.
    John grew alert once more as the cart in which he traveled turned down a narrow road of white gravel. As his transport passed by, liveried servants stepped from behind the flowering bushes to rake the