Lord of the Manor Read Online Free

getting safely through the next few minutes took precedence.
    Lucinda considered leaving the road entirely, but that would mean going into the forest. Not a safe place, not with a stubborn mule, not knowing if one of the men would take her action as an invitation and decide to pursue. Best she stay on the road, as close to the edge as possible, and pray that none of the men took it into his head to harass a poor peasant woman and her little boy.
    The earth fair shook as the noble overtook them, passed by on his magnificent steed, giving her a clear view of his back. He was, indeed, a tall and broad-shouldered warrior and, to her relief, no longer a danger.
    The men-at-arms, in a double column, marched past. She put her hand to her nose against the dust. The company consisted of twenty armed and likely well-trained soldiers. She let out the breath she’d been holding as she sensed a break in the retinue. All that remained to pass by were the wagons.
    Philip wiped his nose with his tunic sleeve. He sneezed hard, kicking the mule. The mule brayed and shifted, nearly knocking Lucinda off balance.
    Then Philip sneezed again. The mule bolted, jerking the lead rope from her hand so fast it burned.
    “Hold fast, Philip!” she shouted, and began to run with a speed she’d never known she could attain. Sweet Jesu, she’d never seen that mule move so fast. Philip bounced and swayed, but he held on.
    One soldier almost snared the lead rope as the mulesped by. Two others dropped their spears and shields to give chase.
    Lucinda followed, damning the mule to perdition, praying that Philip could hold tight a while longer. If Philip were injured…no, she couldn’t think of that now, just concentrate on getting to him.
    Too late, she saw the bump of a tree root in the road. Her foot caught, sending her tumbling. Gasping for air, ignoring her scraped hands, she tried to rise. Pain shot from her ankle. She swore, a foul word she’d learned from Basil’s mercenaries.
    Lucinda flinched when a hand clasped her shoulder.
    “Can you get up?” the man said.
    Admitting weakness to a man wasn’t wise. A lone woman amid so many men would do well to keep her vulnerability a secret. Unfortunately, her injury would show the moment she put weight on her ankle. She looked up into the face of an old soldier, his warm brown eyes and puggish nose surrounded by a bushy, graying beard.
    “Mayhap, with your aid,” she said.
    As he helped her to stand, the soldier said, “Worry not about the boy. Even now Lord Richard chases the mule.”
    Indeed, the commotion drew the attention of the noble who led the company. Effortlessly, his destrier kept pace with the mule. Lord Richard shouted down to Philip, then reached out and plucked her son from the mule’s back.
    A cheer laced with laughter went up from the soldiers. Lucinda sighed with relief, not having the breath to cheer. This lord who had snatched Philip from the threat of harm was due her gratitude.
    The lord wheeled his horse around. Philip sat onthe man’s lap, safe. The lord said something to his two soldiers who had given chase. They nodded and continued up the road, but at a slower pace. She assumed they’d been ordered to find the mule. If not for the precious packs on the beast’s back, she’d have told them not to bother.
    Lord Richard was riding slowly toward her, bearing Philip back to her. Lucinda shook the worst of the dust from her gown and straightened her scarf, hoping she could adequately express her thanks for his rescue of her son.
    Her heart stopped when she recognized the man she’d seen but once, at court, lo those many years ago. Basil had pointed out each member of the family he so despised: Everart, Baron of Wilmont, whose lands Basil coveted; the heir Gerard and the youngest son Stephen; and Richard, the middle son—the bastard.
    Philip was sitting on the lap of Richard of Wilmont, who had been severely wounded and nearly died because of Basil’s treachery.
    Richard