Woodiwiss, Kathleen E - A Rose In Winter by Woodiwiss Kathleen E

Author:Woodiwiss, Kathleen E [Woodiwiss, Kathleen E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-10T12:13:29+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

THE night was cold and crystal clear. The stars twinkled with a brilliance of their own. With the crisp air, the light snow cover squeaked beneath the feet, and one had to tread softly to pass through the night unheard.

In a small valley near the top of a swelling moor, a camp had been laid, and it bore a feeling of permanency. Lanterns were lit, and a half-score tents were banked with straw and dead leaves as added protection against the cold. At the far end of the valley a shallow cave was stacked with powder kegs, wooden boxes, and other supplies. Near one side of it, a series of rope stalls held more than a dozen horses. In the center of the camp a pair of heavily garbed men half squatted on logs beside a fire.

"Poor ol' Timmy," one sighed. " 'At night rider took him, he did. Skewered him right through the gizzard, then slit his throat."

"Aye," the other agreed, nodding his head before he sucked at a small earthen cup of ale. " 'At blackhearted whelp o' the devil's runnin' too close for comfort. 'At ol' widder woman, she says as how she saw the night rider not more'n two or three miles south o' here."

"The cap'n better be findin' us another hideout. In a trade the likes o' this, Luddie, 'tain't wise ter keep chambers too long in one spot."

"Aye, we've got enough fer a foin spree. Even figgerin' what Timmy took ter lay off on his doxie, 'twould fetch us a high time in Carlisle. Remember, Orton, 'at low street tavern? An' 'at sweet plumpy, red-haired wench what serviced the rooms?"

Orton surveyed the high stone cliffs that surrounded them, then stood up and stamped his numb feet. He jerked his head toward the dark-shadowed opening that marked the entrance to the hidden vale. " 'Oo's on lookout?"

Luddie huddled beneath his dark cloak. "John Turner's out there. He'll be comin' in near midnight and wake ol' Clyde."

"Then I'll be turnin' in," Orton stated, tossing a large log on the fire. Stomping off, he entered one of the tents and soon doused the light.

Luddie watched for a while, then shivered and went to his own tent. The camp grew quiet. The lamps went out one by one, and soon the only light came from the dimmed lantern hanging from the stable cave and the flickering fire. The multitude of snores grew loud, and no one heard the distant grunt as John Turner was struck from behind. A rope swished in the still night air as it sailed over a stout branch of a tall tree. The limp form was dragged up feet first, and in the gentle breezes he swung like a pendulum with the creaking of the branch to mark the passing of time.

A vague movement came near the entrance, and an indistinct black form materialized from the darkness. The shape paused at the very edge of the firelight where the dancing flames cast a dim glow over the black, shrouded figure and the huge ebony stallion he rode.

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