Wolf's Cross Read Online Free Page B

forge a whole sword blade out of silver, but the more common steel had been inlaid with the precious metal. The truly odd part of the design was the fact that the inlay was not on the flat, where most decorative engraving would go. It was on the edge. The sword blade was silvered a finger’s width back from the cutting edge on each side.
    Perhaps he shouldn’t be talking too lightly of riding through Hell.

    T elek was usually the largest and most intimidating figure in any gathering, except when that gathering included his uncle. Telek’s uncle, the Wojewoda Bolesław, the lord of Gród Narew, was a bull of a man, nearly a head taller than Telek andprobably three stone heavier. He carried a full beard that had gone half silver, and in some places completely white. Telek’s uncle had not shaved in nearly fifteen years—not since, in a skirmish with their Teutonic neighbors, a mace had badly wounded the left side of his jaw. The beard covered the scars and the misshapen hinge of the badly healed bone.
    As a consequence, Telek’s uncle always spoke deliberately, and had no love for the German Order.
    When Telek entered his uncle’s chambers, Bolesław was standing by a narrow window, eclipsing the afternoon sun and plunging the room into shadow. “Our guests surrendered peaceably?”
    “Yes, Uncle,” Telek said.
    “Good.” Bolesław turned away from the window and stepped toward him. Suddenly the room brightened, both with the sunlight and with his slight, close-lipped smile. “A lack of drama and intrigue is always appreciated.” He walked over to an ornate chair that had been a gift from the Duke. It was debatable what creaked more when Bolesław sat—the carved oak chair or Bolesław himself. He settled himself with a sigh and asked, “Why are they here?”
    “They refused to say.”
    Bolesław grunted. “You accepted this?”
    “They were willing to surrender their persons and their weapons. It seemed prudent to take them hostage and revisit the issue at a later time.”
    “Yes, I am sure. Though, in their state, it seems foolhardy to antagonize us.”
    “Unless the truth would be more provocative than their silence.”
    “God’s teeth, I do not like this. The duchy might already be at war with the Order.”
    “We’re on the frontier here. We would know.”
    “But what if Casimir and the Order are at odds again? The Duke is still a vassal of his brother.”
    “Uncle, they just signed a peace treaty.”
    “Good until some fool gets an itch for more land.”
    “I don’t think war’s at hand, Uncle. These men did not approach us as an enemy.”
    “They were in no state to.”
    “And, while they are currently silent as to their intent within Masovia, they gave conditions for revealing that to us.”
    “Indeed? Conditions? I thought arrogance was a sin.”
    “They require a bishop to give them leave to talk.”
    “A bishop? Are they serious?”
    “I have no reason to doubt.”
    Bolesław closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, which emitted an ominous creak. “No reason to doubt?”
    “Their seriousness,” Telek said.
    His uncle opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Who am I to stand between these Germans and God? They wish a bishop, we shall fetch one. There’s a fine one in Warsaw. You can fetch him back after alerting the Duke of our troublesome guests.”

IV
    W hen Rycerz Telek had summoned her into the midst of the Germans, Maria had been caught off guard. Her initial impulse to help the wounded had been tempered when he had arrived to confront the invaders, to the point where she’d realized that she had overstepped herself. Fortunately, if Telek thought as much, he had kept it to himself.
    Within minutes of Telek calling her down the hillside, she was one of a dozen servants of Gród Narew washing and binding wounds. Almost by accident, she became the center of the effort. For, thanks to her stepmother, she was the only servant who had a working knowledge of