Medieval 01 - Untamed Read Free Page A

father despaired of heirs.
    Nodding to the servant who opened the door, Meg stepped out of the forebuilding onto the steep stone stairs that stretched down to the cobblestone-covered ground of the bailey. Her soft leather slippers made no noise while she descended the mist-slicked steps. As surefooted as a cat, she glided down the stairs to the open bailey where the wind searched through granary and kitchen alike, ruffling the feathers of fowl trussed and waiting for the hatchet.
    Overhead the gray sky was streaked with tendrils of light blue. The incandescent circle of the sun burned palely through veils of mist. The fragile, silver light of spring fell around Meg like a benediction, lifting her spirits. To her left came the liquid call of birds within the dovecotes. To her right came the high, keening cry of a gyrfalcon being taken from the mews to be weathered on a block of wood in the yard.
    Before Meg had taken two steps toward the gatehouse, a black cat with three white feet and startlinggreen eyes trotted toward her, yeowing happily, fluffy tail held high. Meg bent down and held out her arms just as the animal leaped lightly, confident that he would be caught and held.
    â€œGood morning to you, too, Black Tom,” Meg said, smiling.
    The cat purred and rubbed its head against her shoulder and chin. His long white eyebrows and whiskers made a startling contrast to his black face.
    â€œAh, you have such soft fur. Better than the white weasels on the king’s cloak, I allow.”
    Black Tom purred his agreement and watched his mistress with unblinking, green eyes. Talking to him quietly, Meg carried the cat to the gatehouse.
    â€œFair morning to you, m’lady,” said the gateman, touching his forehead in respect.
    â€œAnd to you, Harry. Is your son better?”
    â€œAye, thanks be to God and your medicine. He’s lively as a pup and curious as a kitten again.”
    Meg smiled. “That’s wonderful.”
    â€œWill you be going to see the priest’s falcon after you’ve seen to your herbs?”
    Emerald eyes searched Harry’s face as she asked, “Is the small huntress still refusing food?”
    â€œAye.”
    â€œI will see her.”
    Harry limped toward the huge double doors that opened onto the keep’s outer yard when the bridge was lowered over the moat. A smaller portal was set within the massive timber of one door. He threw open the portal, allowing a rectangle of misty daylight into the dark gatehouse. As Meg walked through, Harry bent forward and spoke quietly.
    â€œSir Duncan has been asking after you.”
    Meg turned quickly toward the gateman. “Is he ill?”
    â€œThat one?” Harry scoffed. “He’s strong as an oak. He wondered if you were ill. You weren’t in chapel this morning.”
    â€œDear Duncan. It was kind of him to notice.”
    Harry cleared his throat. Not many men would have described Duncan of Maxwell as kind. But then, the mistress was a Glendruid witch. She had a way about her that soothed the most savage creatures.
    â€œHe wasn’t the only one to notice, I hear,” Harry said. “The Norman lord was fair put out not to see you.”
    â€œTell Duncan that I am well,” Meg said, hurrying through the door.
    â€œâ€™Tis certain you’ll see him before I do.”
    Meg shook her head. Her unraveled braid shimmered in waves of fire as she hurried forward, speaking over her shoulder.
    â€œMy father has asked that I not attend his sickbed after chapel. As Duncan rarely leaves Father’s side these days…” She shrugged.
    â€œWhat shall I tell Lord Dominic if he asks?” Harry said, giving his mistress a shrewd look.
    â€œIf he asks—which I doubt—tell him the truth. You saw no well-dressed lady leave the bailey this morning.”
    The gateman looked at the simple clothes Meg was wearing and laughed. Then his smile faded and he shook his head