Bridge of D’Arnath 02 – Berg, Carol

Book Preview

My driver rang the bell for the third time. No doubt the castle was in mourning. Black banners flew from the squat towers alongside the duke’s pennon. And the severe facade of the keep’s entry tower, broken only by the tall, narrow glass windows near its crown, was draped with myrtle branches, wound and tied with black crepe. But for all the activity I could see, one might think the entire household dead instead of just the lord.

At last, almost a quarter of an hour after we’d driven through the unguarded outer gates, one of the massive doors was dragged open. A red-faced under-housemaid carrying a water pitcher on her shoulder gestured frantically and disappeared into the house, leaving the door ajar.

Renald hurried back across the courtyard to the carriage, scratching his head. “The girl says you’re to go right up to her mistress’ rooms. She didn’t even wait to hear my introduction.”

“How could they know I was coming today?” Not waiting for Renald’s hand, I jumped from the carriage and directed him to the kitchen wing where he might get refreshment and perhaps a bit of gossip. I ran up the broad steps.

Thirteen years since I’d been banished from this house—

A blood-chilling wail from the upper floor precluded reminiscing, as well as any puzzling over the lack of proper guards at the gates of a wealthy house with a newly dead lord. Hurrying across the tiled floor of the entry tower and up the grand staircase, I followed the commotion through a set of double doors at the end of the passage and into a grand bedchamber.