parents are dead,’ Mistress Sexton said. ‘And our lord’s only concern is greed. It matters little to him where he gets his labour, whether here or Sandborn or elsewhere.’
‘Yea, let us all be eaten, for he cares not!’ Ursula wailed.
‘Eaten?’ Peregrine’s question was little more than a whisper, but it echoed Reynold’s thoughts. Was some kind of wild beast attacking the villagers?
‘Yes, eaten!’ Ursula said. ‘Swallowed whole, roasted on a spit of fiery breath!’
‘You cannot be certain of that.’ Mistress Sexton turned to reprove her companion, as though their discussion was not one bit peculiar. ‘And ‘tis no matter because a knight does not fear such things. Nor can he refuse a plea for help.’
‘Swallowed whole?’ Peregrine’s voice rose, and Reynold wondered if either of the women was lucid. Perhaps they had been left here to wander witless, abandoned by those who feared the insane.
For the first time since leaving Campion, Reynold wished that one of his brothers were with him. Surely Geoffrey, who had handled his lunatic of a wife, would know what to do with these two. Simon would probably have taken them to the nearest convent, but Reynold was reluctant to remove them against their will, though the older one seemed eager for an escape. Perhaps she was held in the thrall of Mistress Sexton.
Reynold could certainly understand that, for when she turned toward him, it was hard for him to focus on anything except her beauty, which was enough to seize one’s breath.
‘I am a damsel much distressed, my lord,’ she said in an earnest tone. ‘And I charge you to honour your vow to aid any such as me, to rescue me and my people by slaying the great beast that is menacing this village.’
Reynold heard Peregrine’s gasp, but he ignored it to study Mistress Sexton with a more jaundiced eye. Although her entreaty seemed serious enough, her words sounded far too familiar for his comfort. ‘And just what great beast am I supposed to slay?’ he asked.
Mistress Sexton lifted her delicate blonde brows as though surprised by the question. But her lovely face wore a serious expression when she gave him the answer he both dreaded and expected.
‘‘Tis a dragon, my lord.’
Chapter Three
‘It’s just as the l’Estranges said!’ Peregrine’s voice, laced with awe, rang out in the silence, but Reynold was not so gullible.
‘Yes, it does seem very familiar, doesn’t it?’ he asked, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper. Stepping closer to Mistress Sexton, he bearded her with a pointed look. ‘And I’m curious as to who is responsible.’
To her credit, the woman appeared bewildered by his attitude. No doubt she had been chosen with an eye towards her charms, which were intended to dazzle him into witlessness, and he felt the sharp sting of insult. ‘Was it Stephen? Or Robin? Whoever it was went to some trouble to involve you, considering how far you are from Campion.’
He turned to Peregrine. ‘Is that why you led me here?’
‘I—I? I did not lead you here!’ Peregrine stammered. ‘You chose the roadways, my lord.’
‘Yet I recall you suggesting Bury St Edmunds.’
‘But that’s just because you were heading east, my lord.’ The boy’s face flamed, and he acted indignant, yet Reynold had seen mummers and such who could appear convincing in some sham. And there was no denying that Peregrine was allied with the l’Estranges, a family that both Stephen and Robin had married into.
Reynold opened his mouth to demand some answers, but everyone started talking at once, and it was all he could do to sort them all out. As far as he could tell, Peregrine was denying any involvement in the so-called quest, Mistress Sexton claimed to know nothing of the boy or Campion, and Ursula wailed unintelligibly.
‘Silence!’ he said.
Everyone looked to him, even Ursula, who finally ceased her moaning. And in the ensuing quiet, Reynold heard something, an odd roar that was faint yet discernible in the stillness of the deserted village. Curious, he cocked his head to listen, but the noise was replaced by that of footsteps. Just how deserted was this village? Reynold put his hand on his sword as a man ran into the church carrying a pitchfork.
‘Get below!’ the fellow said, rushing toward the rear of the room, and the women, white-faced, turned to follow.
‘Hurry,’ Mistress Sexton said, putting a hand out as if to take Reynold’s arm just as something shot past him.
‘Alec! I told you to return to your mother,’ Mistress Sexton said to the blur that revealed itself to be a young boy. ‘Where is she?’
‘At the manor, mistress. I can run there.’
‘No, you cannot!’ Reaching for his arm, Mistress Sexton dragged the youth towards the back of the building, where shadows hid a narrow door and a spiral stair that led into a small cellar. Although Reynold did not share his brother Simon’s abhorrence for underground spaces, he was reluctant to join these strangers, especially if it was part of some prank being played upon him.
But he had been raised to respect women, no matter what their manner, and the urgency of these people made him follow, if more slowly than Peregrine. He did not shut the door completely and halted on the steps, where he could keep both the area below and the door in view. He could probably kick it in, if necessary, but would rather prevent it being shut—or locked—against him.
The two women huddled together, Ursula whimpering softly, and the man took up a stance next to Mistress Sexton. Although his pitchfork pointed toward the ceiling, there was no mistaking his defensive posture. Surely he was not her husband? Reynold tensed at the thought. He had assumed she was unmarried because she wore her hair down and, well, she was so beautiful … Reynold frowned at such reasoning. But hadn’t she called herself a damsel? Reynold felt a certain tautness in his chest ease.
Besides, the man’s clothes were not as fine as hers, nor was his manner, for he said nothing, only looked frightened. Indeed, everyone was still and silent, as though awaiting something, though Reynold had no idea what. Perhaps Stephen was arriving to personally witness the havoc wrought by his jest.
The thought annoyed him. ‘All right, I have followed you here like a trained monkey. Now what?’ he asked.
‘Shh! He’ll hear you,’ the boy Alec said, his face ashen.
‘Who?’
‘The dragon,’ the man whispered in a fierce tone.
Reynold snorted. ‘So it is here now? I admit I’d like to see the creature for myself.’ He turned to go up the stair, but a squeak from Alec stopped him. The stark terror on the boy’s face made him hesitate.
‘He can hear really well,’ Alec whispered. ‘Or else he sniffs us out.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because sometimes he’ll burn the places where people are hiding with his fiery
