Читать книгу The Agincourt Bride онлайн | страница 39

The burst of pain brought tears to my eyes and I thought my scalp would split. ‘No!’ I yelped. ‘I cannot. I am only a nursemaid. The queen came with the Duke of Orleans and took the dauphin and his brother and sister. I do not know where they went.’

‘I do not believe you,’ he snarled, hurling me away from him so that I cannoned into the steel-clad legs of the other man. I felt a fearful crunch in my neck as my head whipped back and tears of pure terror began to course down my cheeks.

‘Do not do that!’ Through blurred vision I saw Catherine hurl herself at the duke’s armoured leg, hammering at the gleaming metal with her fists. I shouted a warning and scrambled forward, but I could not reach her before he did, bending to snatch her up and hold her level with his face, her bare feet dangling helplessly. She was stunned into silence, mesmerised by his predatory glare.

‘You are a little shrew, are you not, Mademoiselle?’ he hissed, eyes glinting with anger.

‘Do not hurt her!’ I screamed in desperation. ‘She is only a child.’

The duke shot me a look of cold venom. ‘When the hawk swoops, it does not ask the age of its prey,’ he snapped. His eyes drilled into Catherine’s, his hooked beak almost touching her nose. ‘Now, little shrew, you tell me where your brother is. I take it you are the dauphin’s sister?’

Catherine stuck out her chin, her mouth clamped shut. His cruel treatment had brought out her stubborn streak and I feared the result. ‘She is not yet four, my lord,’ I protested. ‘How can she know anything? These two are only babes.’

The duke sneered. ‘I have children and I know that they understand a great deal more than you think.’ He shook Catherine so that her head wobbled alarmingly. ‘Is that not so, little shrew? You know where they have gone.’

‘Chartres!’ Charles’ high lisping treble rendered the word almost indecipherable, but it diverted the duke’s attention and he dropped Catherine in a heap on the floor beside me. I clutched her to me, sobbing.

Now the ducal gaze focused on Charles whose thumb, as always in times of stress, had gone to his mouth. The duke bent and wrenched it out, gripping the small wrist so fiercely that Charles let out a wail of anguish. ‘Silence!’ roared Burgundy, pushing the little boy towards his armoured companion. ‘Did he say Chartres, Deet? Make him say the word again.’