Midnight Warrior Read Free

prisoner at Redfern as Adwen.
    “I ask too much,” Adwen whispered. “Why should you wish to be friends with me? I am only a burden to you.”
    Pity rushed over Brynn in an inevitable tide. “Nonsense. We are friends … Adwen. Now will you go to sleep?”
    “What if the dream comes again?”
    She reached out and stroked Adwen’s hair. “Did it frighten you so?”
    “Not at first. I was happy to see him.”
    “Who?”
    “The warrior. He was on horseback riding up the hill. It was very dark and close to midnight.”
    “How could you know the hour?”
    “I just … knew. I could see the magic star behind him.”
    “Comet.”
    “He was in mail armor that glittered in the moonlight. I could not see his face, but I was sure he wouldn’t hurt me. But I was wrong, I saw Redfern burning.…”
    Brynn breathed a sign of relief as she realized this was no death dream. “It’s all this talk about William of Normandy. No wonder you’re unsettled.”
    “It wasn’t about that Norman. He wasn’t—it wasn’t him.”
    “Of course it is.” She tucked the cover around Adwen. “I overheard Lord Richard talking just last night in the dining hall about the danger of invasion by the Duke of Normandy.”
    “I remember. He was very angry. He said he had better things to do than follow King Harold into battle.” She sighed. “You don’t think it was a vision, then?”
    “It was a dream.”
    “He was so real … I could even see the glint of red in his hair from the fires behind him.”
    “A dream.”
    “I’m glad.” Adwen was silent for a long time, and Brynn thought she had drifted off to sleep. “I feel so alone. Will you lie beside me?”
    Brynn lay down on the bed and gathered Adwen’s delicate form close. She had grown thinner since she had lost the last child. Childbed fever had sapped her strength and Brynn was not sure another bout would not carry her away.
    “I like this. I feel safe,” Adwen whispered. “Youheld me like this the night I almost died. I was drifting away … and you pulled me back.”
    Brynn stiffened. “It was the herbal broth I gave you.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Then it was God,” she said quickly. “I’m a healer, not a sorceress.”
    “Have I offended?” Adwen asked anxiously. “I would never accuse you of such a thing. I only—”
    “Hush. All is well. Rest.”
    “And will you stay here until I go to sleep?”
    “I’ll stay.”
    Despair and desperation rushed through Brynn. It was happening again as it had happened time after time during the past three years. Adwen was asking for only this moment, but Gwynthal appeared farther away than ever. She was a healer. How could she run away from this sick child who begged for her friendship and would die without her care? She could escape Delmas, but Adwen’s need bound her to Redfern with chains of iron.
    “The star …” Adwen murmured drowsily. “I think you’re wrong, Brynn. He’s coming …”
April 20, 1066
Normandy
    “It’s a sign from God.” William of Normandy gestured to the brilliant comet and then turned to Gage Dumont with a smile. “Who could want more proof that my claim on the English throne is just?”
    “Who, indeed?” Gage Dumont said impassively. “But, of course, Harold of England is quite probably telling his barons the comet is a sign that his cause is just and that God is on his side.”
    William’s smile faded. “Are you saying that I am using God to further my claim for power?”
    “I’m only a humble merchant. Would I dare to accuse your grace of such blasphemy?”
    The impudent rascal would dare to tweak the beard of the Pope if it suited him, William thought with annoyance. He was tempted to give him a sharp set-down but restrained himself. “Hardly humble. It’s rumored you possess more wealth than I do. Is it true you have a grand palace in Byzantium?”
    “Rumors are often in error,” Dumont said in evasion.
    “And your castle at Bellerieve is said to be