THE WARLORD Read Free Page A

petition the church and King Edward for an annulment. Some, including Dunmore MacLeith, had believed she might get it.
    Tess wondered again how King Edward could have turned a blind eye toward MacLeith's evil deeds all these years. Could the war in Wales, problems with the church, and the endless quarrels among his barons keep the king too busy to bother with such a remote barony? Aye, he'd gone and forgotten about her and Tess had no way to bring her cause before him. Dunmore MacLeith sat as lord at Remmington Castle while Tess, the rightful heir, had stayed locked away in remote Langston Keep these past five years.
    The only good fortune she could claim of late was the recent discovery of a secret passage that led from her bedchamber to the gully outside the walls. Such passages were common in border holdings of Langston's age, built to allow the family a means of escape if the keep fell to an invading army. Now it provided Tess with a different sort of freedom. Freedom from Dunmore MacLeith's plans for her life.
    Two hours later, the group dismounted outside Kelso Abbey's main gate.
    A small side door swung open and, as if he'd been awaiting their arrival, a cowled monk thrust a lantern through the doorway. Tess watched the taller of the two men they had met in the forest step closer to show his face. The monk nodded, turning without a word to point toward a dark path.
    Tess drew her cloak closer, trying to shake a sudden chill. The monk looked like an unholy specter of death with his black robes and long, bony finger pointing them forward. She clutched the back of her uncle's cloak and walked as close behind him as the narrow path would allow.
    The path led to the doors of a large chapel and the group stepped inside. Tess pulled her hood aside just enough to get a better look at the structure, but she was careful to keep her face hidden, as Uncle Ian had ordered. Ian had said he wasn't sure what kind of men they'd meet with this night and the less they knew of Tess the better. Yet once inside the chapel she couldn't help but gape in wide-eyed wonder at the fine Gothic architecture and Norman workmanship that made Kelso Abbey one of the church's prize jewels. Tess was sure she'd never seen anything so grand. Beautiful religious paintings covered the walls and ceilings, and most statues were leafed with gold. The soft glow from an uncountable number of precious beeswax candles made the place seem more fairy-tale castle than chapel. An old priest stood near the pulpit, garbed in richly embroidered red satin and gold-trimmed robes, his presence lending an air of royalty to the scene. The priest's face was wrinkled with years of wear, but his eyes twinkled with a smile that grew broader as they passed each row of kneelers.
    "Greetings, my son." The priest walked stiffly toward Kenric, his gait slowed by age. He grasped Kenric's strong hands with thin, frail ones. " 'Tis been too many years, but you've grown into a fine man."
    "Thank you, Father Olwen . 'Tis good to see your familiar face this eve." Kenric smiled grimly at the priest. "I'm sure you remember my friend Roger Fitz Alan. And this is Laird Duncan."
    Kenric turned then to get his first good look at the giant Scot. Although Kenric stood well over six feet, Ian Duncan was nearly as tall. The Scottish laird's face was weathered and his blue eyes creased around the edges with the lines of a man who smiled often. Much as he was smiling now at Kenric.
    Kenric soon spied the reason for the Scot's humor. Ian's cloak was tossed over his shoulders to reveal not only the Duncan clan's blue and green plaid, but the handle of a massive claymore that was strapped securely to his back. So much for disarming the man. Kenric acknowledged his oversight with a slight nod, then his eyes dropped to Ian's side to inspect Lady Remmington. Her back was turned to Kenric and she seemed absorbed by the doomsday paintings on one wall of the chapel. He tried to imagine a short, fat, female