Two Knights of Indulgence

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2013 Alexandra
O’Hurley

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-267-8

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Marie
Medina

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my readers—you’ve made
my last year incredible.  Thank you.  Here’s
to
many more years and many more stories.

TWO KNIGHTS OF INDULGENCE

Knights of the
Temple
,
2

Alexandra
O’Hurley

Copyright
© 2013

Chapter One

Normandie
, 1280

Matthias de
Rancort
ran
across the barbican to the crenellated wall, looking down through the slit as
his father approached the gates with his men.
 
The majestic lion on his father’s dirty, torn pennants fluttered in the
strong winds blistering over the plowed, fallow fields.
 
Fear settled low in his belly as his gaze narrowed
on his father’s head, bouncing along with the horse’s slow gait.
 
That fear also mixed with anger, knowing the
lousy swine had left them to fend for themselves for nearly a year.
 
At nine, Matthias had been forced to become
the master of the keep, helping his mother ensure they survived the approaching
winter.
 

The group funneled through the first gate below the
barbican, and Matthias could hear the hooves beating across the bridge over the
moat as they entered the bailey, the rhythm reverberating in his ears.
 
Matthias closed his eyes and hoped to awaken
from the nightmare.
 
Humbert
was back to abuse them, by fist or by word.
 
Then his men would eat what little supplies they’d managed to stock for
themselves, and they’d never make it through till spring.

“Had those men been home where they belonged, we would
have much more meat from the hunt, salted and hanging in the larder to feed
their number.
 
Instead, they were more
interested in tournaments and games,” his mother said from behind him, her hand
coming to rest on his shoulder as she released a deep sigh.
 
“I am sure he comes home empty-handed, having
drunk away any gold he managed to win.”

“Clarisse!”

Matthias jumped as he heard his father bellow from
inside the bailey, the sound echoing through the entire castle.
 
He turned to look at his mother’s face, and
the knot of fear grew larger when he saw her face grow ashen.

“Clarisse!
 
Come welcome your husband!”

His mother’s jaw
firmed,
and
she rolled her shoulders back, extending a hand to him.
 
“Come, Matthias, let us greet your father.”

Matthias didn’t want to go down.
 
The last time he had welcomed his father
home, he had gotten a boot to the chest and ended up sitting in mud, his father
and his men laughing around him as he tried to pull himself from the muck.
 
His gaze met his mother’s, and he saw her
insistence and captured her hand.
 
She
was soon pulling him toward the bailey, running down the barbican steps.
 
As they closed in, he watched the men
dismounting, the cold breeze
billowing
their furred
cloaks out behind them.

That knot of his grew larger as the men turned and
took notice, their evil grins and chuckling making him feel left out of a joke
they knew was about to be played.
 
He and
his mother wormed their way through the men and their horses, pushing through
the pack to get to the front.

His father was still mounted in his saddle, a grim
look to his face.
 
“You do not see me for
a year, and this is the welcome I get?”

“I am sorry, my lord.
 
We had taken to the barbican to watch
your
…
triumphant … return.
 
It took us a moment
to take the steps down.
 
You would not
want me to twist an ankle, would you?”
 
Matthias’ mother had always had a way of twisting the truth when it came
to his father.
 
Had it not been for her
protecting them, he was not sure what would have become of them.

Humbert
stared coldly at his mother, his gaze roving over her features
before turning to Matthias.
 
“Boy.
 
You are the reason I have returned.
 
Go, gather your things. I have found you a
foster.”

“A foster?
 
No!
 
He’s still a child.”

“I was fostered at six.
 
Matthias is nine and well past time for him
to learn to be a man.”

His mother clutched him to her bosom, her arms tight
as iron. “He is needed here.
 
He has
helped us prepare for the winter.
 
Without him—”

“Stop!
 
It is done.
 
There is no argument.”

“No!
 
I will not
let you take my son.”

Humbert
leapt from his saddle, the ground shaking as his booted feet hit
the ground.
 
Wind whipped up, twisting
his
surcoat
, his cloak billowing out behind him, and
in that moment, Matthias was sure the devil had just shown himself within his
father.
 
Humbert
struck his mother, knocking her to the muddy earth.
 
Matthias leapt forward, pushing his father
away, his fists hitting his father’s gut.
 
Humbert’s
chainmail crunched under his hand,
deflecting the blows.

Humbert
laughed above him.
 
His
father grasped his upper arms and threw him over his shoulder.
 
Moments later, Matthias was sitting before
Jerar
Deon, clasped in the knight’s strong arms as they
rested on his horse.
 
Matthias struggled,
but it was impossible to move an inch.
 
Tears of frustration stung the back of his eyes, and he looked to his
mother as she sat on the ground, weeping.

 
“Tears?
 
Are you going
to cry like a little girl, Matthias?
 
Cry
for your mama?” His father gazed at him and grimaced before turning back to his
mother.
 
“Look at your son!
 
He weeps like a woman.
 
This
is why he needs to be fostered.
 
He will
never grow to be a man at your bosom.”

“Perhaps if you were here to show him the way—” His
mother quieted as another fist flew at her face.
 
Matthias winced at the impact,
then
struggled to go to her and save her.
 
Jerar’s
arms
tightened around him and prevented him from saving his mother.
 
Once
Humbert
stepped back, he could see the blood drizzle down her chin as she grew
solemn.
 
She was silent a few moments as
she appeared to gather herself.
 
“At
least tell me where he’s going.”

“Sir Eustache has agreed to take on the boy.”

“Eustache!
 
No!
 
He’s more evil than you are.”

Humbert
grasped his mother by the hair and lifted her from the ground.
 
“You think me evil, do you?
 
Perhaps I should show you how evil I can be.”

“No!”
 
Matthias
struggled against
Jerar’s
grip to no avail.
 
“Don’t hurt her.”

Humbert
turned to
Jerar
.
 
“Take the whelp to Eustache while I teach my
wife a lesson.”

Matthias felt
Jerar’s
chuckle reverberate through him prior to his deep voice doing the same.
 
“Yes, my liege.”

Jerar
turned his horse and began to trot out of the bailey.
 
Matthias attempted to turn, hoping to get one
last look at his mother, but couldn’t wrench free enough to see her.
 
The hot sting he’d felt now turned into tears
in truth.
 
They silently fell down his
face as he heard his mother scream for him.

“Do not
worry,
my little
liege.
 
One day, you will know this was
for the best.”