Page 112 of A Knight’s Reward

He shrieked. His face crumpled, and he looked close to tears.

“Hmm. Somehow, I missed.” Aldwin reached for another bolt. “This time, milord, I will not fail to take his ear.”

“The left one first,” de Lanceau said.

“As you command, milord.” The blond warrior cocked the crossbow again.

“Nay! Please. I w-will t-tell you,” the man blubbered.

“Where is Dominic?” de Lanceau demanded.

“H-he… Ah…”

De Lanceau nodded.

Raising the weapon, Aldwin aimed at the left side of the man’s head.

“T-the d-dock by the river. Not far.”

“Crenardieu?”

“T-there, too.”

“Why were you traveling into Clovebury?”

“T-to fetch R-Ryle Balewyne a-and the others.” His gaze slid to Gisela, then away.

De Lanceau frowned. “The other men are to help with the cloth sale?”

Nodding, the man swallowed with great effort. “And a-also…”

“Aye?”

“T-to kill Dominic once the d-deal is complete.”

“Oh, God,” Gisela whispered. The faint drone of the insects in the nearby meadow seemed to rise in volume, to become a shrill scream echoing within her.

His lip curling back from his teeth, de Lanceau spurred his horse nearer to the lackey. “You will take us there. Without delay. I warn you now, if you try to betray us, or give so much as a whisper of warning to your cohorts”—he tipped his head at Aldwin—“he will shoot your ears off. To begin. Understood?”

The man’s head bobbed.

Looking at Gisela, then his men, de Lanceau said, “Keep alert.”

While Aldwin kept the crossbow trained on the lackey, another of the men-at-arms untied the horse’s reins and led it back onto the road. The crunched clop of hooves resumed. De Lanceau rode in the lead, the lackey close behind and surrounded by the men-at-arms, with Aldwin at his back.

Gisela shuddered a sigh. We are on our way, Dominic, my love. Do not lose hope. We will find you.

They followed the road running parallel to the river. The forest thickened. The shadows grew deeper, the rich scents of leaves and decaying wood wafting from the forest floor.

Impatience in the set of his mouth, de Lanceau glared back at the lackey. “How much farther?”

“N-not far,” said the man.

“For your sake,” Aldwin snarled, “you had better not speak falsely.”

They rode on, following the road’s twists and turns. An object, caught in the light dappling the shaded road, seized Gisela’s attention. Leaning forward, she peered at the ground. “Look!”

“Fresh dirt thrown up by a wagon wheel,” de Lanceau said. “A cart must have become stuck in the rut.”