By Queen's Grace. Shari Anton

day?” Oswuld asked with disbelief.

      “A good portion of it. I heard Lady Judith’s screams when you took her. By the time I finished questioning the nuns you left behind, I had to track you. ‘Twas not difficult, despite your efforts to cover your trail.” He looked down at Thurkill. “I wondered if you were actually that clever, or if you had simply become lost when you began going in circles this afternoon. You are lost, are you not, Thurkill?”

      Thurkill neither moved a muscle nor answered.

      Corwin continued. “Nor did you have any notion that I followed you. One should never leave one’s rear exposed to attack, Thurkill. But then, given the circumstances, I may not have thought anyone could follow so quickly, either.”

      “Who are you?” Duncan asked.

      “Corwin of Lenvil, knight of Wilmont. And if you will have me, the newest member of your band.”

      He heard Judith’s stunned gasp. The men at the fire stared at him in surprise. Thurkill allowed himself a sharp intake of breath.

      “You were also rather careless in voicing your purpose,” Corwin said. “I heard it all and heartily approve.”

      “Then release me,” Thurkill ordered, though softly.

      “Not yet, I think. ‘Twould be foolish to give up my advantage until I am assured I will not be murdered in my sleep.”

      Judith’s hands clenched to fists at her sides. “How.howcould you? Corwin, this is madness!”

      Her distress was understandable, and he was sorry for it, but he couldn’t back down. If there were any hope at all of stopping the rebellion before it started, he had to take this risk. Unfortunately, the risk extended to Judith, but he judged the danger to her slight. These men would crown her England’s queen if they had their way. They’d do all within their power to keep her safe. And she was certainly in no danger from him. He, too, would protect her.

      His duty, as he saw it, was to prevent a war by learning all he could of the rebellion, especially the name of the Saxon noble who would dare to be king. Mayhap, if Judith proved trustworthy, Corwin would ease her mind by taking her into his confidence. Surely she’d see the sense in remaining with the rebels long enough to glean the information.

      Or maybe not. Certes, she hadn’t shown much sense this morning. Too, he’d misjudged her before, three years agoand paid a price. She’d told him with a harsh snubbing that she considered him beneath her notice. And now he gave her reason to believe him lower than the dirt beneath her booted feet.

      “Madness? Nay, my lady. This rebellion may free England from Norman tyranny. If the leader is capable. If the army is large enough and well equipped.” He looked down at Thurkill. “Is it? Or do I throw my lot in with you to find only men who travel in circles?”

      Thurkill had the gumption to sneer. “You could do better, I suppose?”

      Corwin smiled. “I can find the road you were looking for this noon.”

      “How do we know we can trust you?” Duncan asked.

      They shouldn’t, and making them believe would be the hardest part of his scheme.

      “Do we all agree that, if I wished, I could take Lady Judith from you now, return to Romsey and set the sheriff on your tails?”

      Judith’s hands rose to rest on her hips, emphasizing her anger. The action also thrust her breasts forward, prompting Corwin to wonder all over again if a lushly curved female body lurked beneath the shapeless black robe. He suspected the rest of her would be as perfectly carved as her comely face and delicate hands.

      “Taking me back to Romsey is exactly what you should do!” she stated.

      Maybe he should take Judith and go. Even now the lady’s face and form proved a mighty and unwanted distraction.

      “But I will not,” Corwin said. “I am Saxon, as are all of you, and am as ready to throw off the Norman yoke as you seem to be. As I see it, I need not prove myself to you, but you to me.”

      Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “We do not even know if you are who you say you are.”

      Thankfully, that problem was easily solved.

      “Ask the lady. Judith Canmore knows who I am, even if she has ever disapproved of me. In fact, I carry a letter to her from my sister, which I may consider giving her if she does not cause us any further trouble.”

      Judith’s gray eyes smoldered, then flashed with fire that would have burned him to cinders had it been real.

      “He is who he says,” she said. “Corwin of Lenvil, vassal to Gerard of Wilmont, one of the most powerful barons in the kingdom, and one of the most fair and kind, andmost undeserving of disloyalty! Why, Corwin? How can you betray the man who has given you so much?”

      He almost winced at her condemnation, but then, he wasn’t truly betraying Gerard. Never would.

      “Given? Never. What land and privileges he granted me, I earned with the sweat of my brow and the edge of my sword. In truth, ‘tis he who should be earning privileges at my hand. His castle sits on land once ruled by my forefathers. I would have it back.”

      Not quite true, but the band needn’t know that.

      “Greed?” Judith shouted. “You would turn on a decent man for his land? What of your sister? Would’you betray her, too?”

      Now that truly hurt-which was probably why she’d tossed it in his face. Judith would use every argument she could muster to convince him of his folly, persuade him to change his mind.

      “‘Tis a naive notion that these men rebel for a mere ideal. In part, mayhap, but each looks for a reward at battle’s end. With an entire kingdom to disperse to those who serve well, the rewards.will be rich indeed. As for Ardith, she can do as she pleases, go to Normandy with Gerard or remain with me, so long as I am master of Wilmont.”

      “I cannot promise you so grand a reward,” Thurkill said.

      Finally, Thurkill had begun to yield.

      The rebel’s hair was becoming wet with sweat, making Corwin’s grip less secure. He knew he must gain the band’s acceptance soon, before the tide turned against him or he lost the advantage of holding Thurkill helpless.

      “Nay, you cannot. Only the man you would make king can do so, and only if you win the battle. ‘Tis to him I would pledge my sword for the price I ask. Believe me, Thurkill, you would much prefer to have me as friend than a foe. What say you?”

      “If I say nay?”

      “Then you die by my dagger, and your companions die by my sword. I am Wilmont trained. Never doubt that I could take them on and win.”

      “And Lady Judith?”

      All day long Corwin had enjoyed ignoble but tantalizing visions of having Judith alone, beholden to him for her rescue, in need of him for protection and guidance back to safety. The concern in Thurkill’s question prevented any glib answer, however.

      “I would take her back to Romsey. I imagine, by now, a reward has been offered for her safe return.”

      “I will see you hung by your thumbs from the beams of the refectory,” Judith threatened. “Flogged to within a beetle’s breath of your life for your insults. Then drawn, quartered and hanged for treason!”

      He wouldn’t put it past her to try. He eased the dagger away from Thurkill’s throat, far enough to let the man relax, but not far enough to remove the threat of a slit throat.

      “Bloodthirsty imp,” he remarked to Thurkill. “Are you sure we want her as our queen?”

      “Aye.” Thurkill’s tension eased. He smiled slightly. “A right rare one, she is. She will make a grand mate for our lord, give him strong, healthy sons.”

      “The