Page 107 of A Knight’s Vengeance

Dominic dropped to his knees beside her. “He lives, milady?” he asked, his voice ragged.

“I do not know,” Elizabeth whispered.

The knight took Geoffrey’s limp hand and felt for a pulse. “A faint heartbeat. Too faint, I fear.” Anguish deepened the worried lines around his mouth. He squeezed her fingers, shoved to a stand, and stared across the bailey. “You bastard!” he roared.

Blinking away tears, Elizabeth followed his gaze to the young man standing against the far wall, holding a crossbow. His golden hair, the hue of corn silk, gleamed in the sun.

Oh, God.

Her stomach lurched. Bile flooded her mouth. She fought the urge to curl over and retch.

Aldwin had shot Geoffrey.

With assistance from several knights, her father struggled to his feet. He glanced down at Geoffrey’s prone body and at her; then he leveled his glare on the squire. “What have you done?”

Arthur’s shout reverberated in the sudden silence. He limped across the bailey, his wounded leg thumping on the ground.

Aldwin stood firm.

“Why did you fire the crossbow?”

“I saved your life, milord.” Sweat beaded on Aldwin’s forehead.

“Idiot! My life was not in danger.”

The squire flushed. “I saw⁠—”

“De Lanceau intended to sheath his sword. You think me a coward, boy?” Arthur bellowed. “You wished to dishonor me before God and all these witnesses?”

“N-nay, milord.”

“Then why did you interfere?”

Aldwin’s face turned scarlet. “I—” he said tightly and looked straight at Elizabeth. “I shot him for my lady.”

“Nay!” she cried.

“For Elizabeth?” Her father scowled.

“Aye, and I would do so again.” The squire’s eyes flashed with conviction. “I did it for her tainted honor, and for all of the evils de Lanceau forced upon her. I would rather die than see my lady forced to wed that monster. He is not worthy of her virtue, intelligence, or her great beauty. He will never hurt her again.”

“Aldwin,” Elizabeth moaned. “Nay. Nay!”

Arthur stared at the squire. When at last he spoke, his voice shook with rage. “Let it be known that Geoffrey de Lanceau is now the rightful lord of Wode and all the lands surrounding it. ’Tis an honor he won in battle, before God and witnesses.”

“Milord,” Aldwin pleaded.

“Get him out of my sight,” Arthur barked to the knights behind him. Aldwin was hauled from the bailey, his cries echoing off the stone walls.

Elizabeth looked down at Geoffrey. He had not moved. She held his cool, bloody hand and linked her fingers through his. Her eyes stung. “I will not leave you,” she whispered.

A shadow fell over her. “Beloved, ’tis over.” At the baron’s nasal voice, she felt a dreadful chill. Men-at-arms, talking and gesturing, swarmed around Geoffrey’s body, and she fought to keep her place by his side.

She clawed at the sweaty hand that encircled her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Please,” she choked. “Help him.”

“There is naught we can do.” The baron’s yellowed teeth formed an ugly grin. “Forget him. He deserves to die.”

Elizabeth jerked free of his hold. “I will find Mildred. There is a garden here at Branton. Medicinal herbs⁠—”