[The deBurghs 07] - Reynold De Burgh: The Dark Knight Read Free Page B

for breath. ‘Stop, Rowland. Stop!’ he croaked.
    The young miscreant showed no signs of hearing or heeding, so Reynold struck Thebald with the walking stick, hard enough to prevent any further mischief, and turned his attention to the brawl that was now perilously close to the fire. It was obvious that the devil was trying to roll Peregrine into the embers in hopes of burning him or even setting him alight.
    With a grunt, Reynold grabbed Rowland by the back of the neck and threw him on to the ground. Before he could rise, Reynold had put his own dagger to his throat.
    ‘Listen carefully, faux cripple, lest you lose your life. I am lame, and yet I can gullet you like a fish.’
    Even when presented with the sight of his injured master, Rowland remained difficult. He would admit nothing, and struggled so that Reynold was forced to tie him up with a length of rope in his pack. And after Peregrine and Reynold had gathered up their belongings and mounted, taking the thieves’ horse with them, the youth railed at them, screaming curses into the night.
    ‘I cannot believe it,’ Peregrine murmured, obviously shaken by the encounter. ‘He seemed so gentle and kind this afternoon.’
    ‘Let that be a lesson to you, boy. Appearances can be deceiving.’
    ‘They could have killed us while we slept!’
    ‘You perhaps, but not I.’ When Peregrine ducked his head in embarrassment, Reynold softened his tone. ‘I think they are nothing more than common robbers who make a living by preying on pilgrims. Murder isprobably only a last resort for them, else they would have killed us first and then picked our pockets.’
    Peregrine did not look comforted. ‘But what about that knife? I saw it strike you in the chest! Are you not wounded, my lord?’
    Reynold shook his head. ‘I would not go upon the roads without mail, though I’ve covered the short coat with my tunic so I don’t draw attention.’
    ‘But you will always draw attention.’
    Dare the boy refer to his leg? Reynold slanted him a glance, and Peregrine stammered. ‘I—I mean…It’s only that you’ve got that big sword and, well, you’re a de Burgh. Who could mistake you?’
    Reynold snorted. ‘I was unremarkable enough for Thebald and Rowland to think they could master, if those were their names.’
    ‘Was it true, what you told him?’ Peregrine asked. At Reynold’s sharp look, he stammered again. ‘I—I just wondered because you can’t tell, by looking at you, I mean.’
    ‘Yes, I have a bad leg,’ Reynold said.
    ‘Were you injured in battle?’
    Reynold shook his head. ‘I’ve had it since birth,’ he said with a carelessness he didn’t feel. But the pose came easily to him, for he was accustomed to hiding his feelings, whether it be his resentment when his brothers urged him on, making light of his affliction, his jealousy at the abilities they took for granted, or his bitterness at his place as the runt of the litter that was the grand de Burgh family.
    ‘Was it the midwife’s doing?’
    Lost in his own thoughts, Reynold was surprised to hear the question, for no one ever asked him about his leg. He never discussed the subject. Although he could hardly reprimand the boy for simple curiosity, Reynold could not bring himself to comment, especially when the question was one none could answer. He gave a tense shrug.
    ‘I—I only asked because my sister helped the midwife at home, and she says sometimes the baby isn’t in the right position to come out properly. The women try to move it as best they can, but who knows what injury they might do? And some come out not at all or feet first. Is that what happened to you?’
    Again Reynold shrugged. There was no use speculating since everyone involved was dead.
    ‘Or it could have been the swaddling,’ Peregrine said, as though thinking aloud. ‘They’re supposed to stretch and straighten the baby’s limbs, but carefully. The midwife told my sister that bad swaddling has caused men to grow up to