The Truest Heart Read Free Page A

for herself that she feared. She worried about Clifton, so young, deprived of his family. She worried about Brother Baldric, whose age made the journey here a difficult one, though he never complained.
    He had come to Westerbrook as a young man; he’d once been a tenant on Westerbrook lands, even when her grandfather had been lord. But it was when her father, Ellis, was a youth that tragedy struck. Early one morn, Baldric’s cottage had caught fire after he’d left for the fields.
    His wife and four children had perished.
    In time, Baldric had decided to dedicate his life to the Church. Perhaps it was despair that had brought him to the Church, but it was surely faith that kept him there. Of that, Gillian had no doubt. Sometimes, though, she had wondered if it was the memory of his wife and children that had kept him from taking Holy Orders.
    Aye, she’d known him since she was a child. There was not a time that she could not remember him.
    But she missed Westerbrook, she thought yearningly. Most of all, she missed her father and Clifton.
    Darkness bled through her. One she would never see again… as for the other, she could only pray the day would come soon.
    It was then she spied the slight figure of a man coming toward her, weaving down the path. Scarcely taller than she, he was spare and thin, his pate shaved and exposed to the wind; the set of his shoulders between his robe was bony and frail. At times she marveled that he had been able to make the journey here to the place where he had been born—that he had revealed much of his character and determination.
    ” ‘Twas quite a storm we had last night.”
    The breath she drew was faintly unsteady, but somehow she managed a faltering smile. “It was,” she agreed.
    Brother Baldric peered at her. “I am sorry I did not come yesterday.”
    Gillian gave an admonishing shake of her head. “You need not be sorry, Brother Baldric.” She couldn’t help but feel guilty. The walk from the sparsely populated village was a long one, yet Brother Baldric made it as often as he could. “Indeed, ‘tis most kind of you to help with food and fuel. I know that it takes away from your work with Father Aidan.”
    Father Aidan was nearly blind; since returning here, Brother Baldric had become Father Aidan’s eyes. They sometimes walked for days to minister to those in the area, for the villages were few and far between.
    She smiled faintly. “I am in your debt, as you well know.”
    “Debt?” Brother Baldric scoffed. “My first duty is to God. My second to your father, and he entrusted me with your safety, child. Speak no more of debt.” He frowned suddenly. “You look fatigued, Lady Gillian. Are you ill?”
    “Nay. ‘Tis just that I did not sleep well.”
    “The storm?” he guessed.
    “Aye.”
    “And other things as well, I vow.”
    “That, too,” she admitted. “I worry about Clifton. He is so young. And he’s been deprived of his family.”
    “I understand your concern, but it was for your own good that your father sent the two of you away.”
    Her eyes shadowed, Gillian regarded the dark-robed man who had brought her here. “I know. But it pains me to think of Clifton alone.”
    “Not alone,” he reminded her. “He is with Alwin, your father’s chief retainer, and we both know that Alwin will protect Clifton with his life.”
    Though Gillian knew Brother Baldric meant only to comfort, there was no such comfort to be found for the endless, dragging heaviness within her… for what if it should come to that? What would happen to Clifton then?
    Her eyes darkened. “If only we could have remained together!”
    “It could not be. Your father was convinced his children stood a far better chance apart than together—and he was right, methinks. He dared not take the chance that King John would find you— you or Clifton.” Brother Baldric did not speak aloud what they both knew. At least this way, if one were caught, the other might live.
    “I should have