Читать книгу The Agincourt Bride онлайн | страница 37
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The terrors of the night were nothing compared with the horror of waking. Jerked out of sleep by a loud metallic clang, I opened my eyes just as the curtains were hauled back by an armoured figure brandishing a naked blade. My shrill scream was underscored by the panic-stricken wails of the children who instinctively dived behind me into the protective pile of Madame la Bonne’s pillows. I am not brave, but in that instant anger overcame my fear and I reared up like a spitting she-cat to confront our assailant. What a pathetic sight that must have been – rumpled linen versus burnished steel!
‘In here, my lord!’ yelled the anonymous intruder, his dagger aimed at my throat.
I recoiled, clutching at the yawning neck of my chemise and demanding divine protection and information in one hoarse, garbled screech. ‘God save us – who are you – what do you want?’
‘Calm yourself, Madame,’ the man advised. ‘His grace of Burgundy would speak with you.’
Even had I dared, there was no opportunity to protest that this was hardly a convenient moment to receive the noble duke, for in that instant an even more terrifying figure parted the curtains at the foot of the bed with a movement so violent it tore the hooks from their rail. His grace of Burgundy, framed in blood-red velvet. I let out another scream.
Encased to the neck in black and gold armour, his presence loomed like an incarnation of the demons of the night. The very smell of him seemed to rob the air of life; not the natural odour of male sweat, but a sweet cloying scent, like rotting fruit. And his face matched his armour, dark in every way; expression grim, complexion swarthy, grey eyes deep-socketed, cheeks shadowed with several days’ growth of beard, black brows thick and bristling and a nose hooked like a meat-cleaver over a fleshy, purple mouth.
‘Where is the dauphin?’ this demon demanded, peering past me at the small legs and feet protruding from the pillows. ‘Who are you hiding there? Take a look, Deet.’
The man with the dagger flung me roughly aside and hauled Catherine from her refuge. The brave little girl kicked and fought, but she was as powerless as a fly in a web. Cursing, the knight dumped her at arm’s length and reached for Charles, who immediately set up a scream of astonishing volume.