The Baron's Bounty Read Free Page A

type of leather was brought back by the Crusaders and very expensive. So expensive that cordwainers only made these shoes on special order from nobles who paid dearly for them.
    The killer, obviously satisfied no one was there, started forward again. As he passed by her, his very long cape dragged on the ground, brushing against her hand in the process. It felt soft, as if it were made from fine-spun wool. It wasn’t the coarse material used to fashion cloaks for traders or servants. This cloak surely must have cost a high price. The killer had money. Or was perhaps a thief!
    When she glanced up from the corners of her eyes, she was sure she’d seen a flash of bright blue, red, and yellow that reminded her of the crest of the Cinque Ports. She closed her eyes tightly and clamped a hand over her mouth in order not to cry out. The intruder’s gait continued to echo in her brain. Step, Drag, Swish. Step, Drag, Swish. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard before, and odd. Very odd indeed, but she couldn’t decipher why.
    She heard the neighing of a horse, then hoofbeats, and realized the man had mounted a horse that had obviously been hidden in the brush, and was riding away as quickly as possible.
    Tears welled behind her lids, and she didn’t move. Her teeth chattered and her body shook and she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold and rain, or from fear. She lost track of time, and had no idea how long she sat there, not moving.
    Then finally the storm stopped and the skies cleared. She heard her escorts calling for her from the forest. She thankfully stood up and ran to them, and didn’t stop until she was being hoisted up atop one of the guard’s horses to sit in front of him. She felt safe at last.
    “Where were ye, Lady Isobel? We thought ye’d run off becooz ye didna want te meet thet English bastard,” said the guard named Elliot.
    “I wish I’d ne’er gone out o’ the castle tonight,” she said, her body still shaking. She considered telling them what she’d witnessed, but then thought better of it. She couldn’t let anyone know about the king’s death. If she did - she’d be a target. The murderer could hear about it and come after her next. Either that, or she’d possibly be accused of killing the king herself, since she was the only one who knew about the incident.
    If she told the Scots she suspected her cousin’s betrothed of killing their king, war would break out between the English and the Scots and many of her people would die. She hadn’t seen the killer’s face, so she couldn’t really accuse anyone of such a heinous crime, so she’d just stay quiet for now.
    “Shall we go back te the castle?” asked the other guard. “Or do ye think the English baron is still atop the cliff waiting for ye?”
    Her eyes opened wide and her chest became very tight. The baron was the last person she wanted to see right now.
    “I’m sure the baron has left port by now,” she told the guards. “We’ll go back te the castle anon.”
    “Well, the storm did let up,” said Elliot, eying the sky. “But dinna ye think he’d wait te sail til the mornin’?”
    “Nay,” she blurted out, knowing he would want to get away from the scene of the crime as fast as possible. “I’ve been told he is impatient and am sure he has already departed. Matter o’ fact, I’m sure he’d risk even the worst o’ storms if he had to, jest te get back te England as fast as possible.”
    With that, the guards turned around, and they all headed back toward the castle. She looked over her shoulder at the lighthouse as they rode away, wondering just what the baron – the killer, looked like. Then she decided she never wanted to know.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 1
     
     
    England – August, 1286
     
    “Conlin, you fool, why in the devil’s name did you ever agree to marry the Shrew of the Scots?” Baron John Montague from the Hastings Port asked his question as the three friends – all barons of the Cinque Ports