![]() ![]() The same lady who had once promised to become his wife. Especially now that its lord was dead, leaving only a lady in charge. Situated between King Stephen’s supporter, the Earl of York, to the south and the Empress Matilda’s maternal uncle, King David of Scotland, to the north, Montreau was a choice bit of property. Smoothing his lips into a grim line, he headed for the cliff tops. Anticipation rippled through his muscles. ![]() ![]() Only in his mind’s eye could he see the great dragon heads guarding the prows, each fierce beast nearly identical except for the colour of their jewel-toned eyes. He glanced back towards the beach that had once been so familiar, but a thick cloud covered the moon, and hid his vessels from sight. Sword raised, he pressed forwards, leading his men into the cover of the tall grasses. Lord Jared of Warehaven leapt from the centre boat, his booted feet splashing in the shallow water. Silent as North Sea raiders of old, the three longships slipped on to the sandy beach of Montreau Bay. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |