Reynold de Burgh: The Dark Knight. Deborah SimmonsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Reynold de Burgh stood on the castle battlements and looked out over his family’s lands as the first faint light of dawn rose on the horizon. He had been planning to leave his home for some time, but now that the moment had arrived, the parting was more painful than he’d imagined. He loved Campion and its people, and he felt a traitorous urge to remain even though he had made his decision.

      He could linger, but he knew that today would be no different. He had only to wait until his father, the Earl of Campion, led his new wife down to the hall to be reminded of the changes taking place at the castle. Although Reynold loved and revered his sire and had come to like Joy, their happiness was a bitter reminder of his own lack.

      In the past few years five of his six brothers had wed, too, and Reynold was painfully aware that he was next in line. Although he felt no anger or regrets over the marriages that had led his siblings to wives and families of their own, he knew that the future did not hold the same for him.

      Yet soon everyone at Campion would look to Reynold or his younger brother Nicholas, wondering and murmuring over who would be the last de Burgh to fall. Reynold had decided it was easier to go, to escape the questions and the pitying glances that would follow, as well as the happiness of others. By the time Campion began welcoming new sons, he hoped to be long gone.

      The thought made him rue the precious moments he had wasted in this last goodbye, and he hurried back through the castle to the bailey where his destrier was waiting. He had spoken to no one of his plans, but he had left a message, telling his father that he was going on a pilgrimage.

      Although he had no real destination in mind, that explanation would prevent his family from coming after him. A pilgrimage, whether to a local shrine or one further away, was a personal decision that should keep his father and brothers at bay. Reynold did not want them leaving their wives and children to comb the countryside for him—especially when he did not want to be found.

      Mindful of the servants and freemen who were stirring with the dawn, Reynold was about to mount his destrier when he heard the jingle of bells coming from the shadows near the castle doors. The sound might have been anything, and yet, he had a sinking feeling that perhaps he had waited too long to make his escape. His suspicion was soon confirmed by the sight of a small plump woman hurrying towards him.

      ‘Ah, there, you are!’ she trilled, waving an arm that sent the tiny bells on her sleeve to tinkling.

      Reynold stifled a groan. Ever since his brother Stephen had married Bridgid l’Estrange, her aunts had felt welcome to come and go at Campion at their will. They were gentlewomen and provided good company for Joy in a household composed mostly of males, but there was something about the two that made their sudden appearance here at this hour unsurprising.

      Reynold’s eyes narrowed. ‘I beg your pardon, Mistress Cafell, but I have no time to tarry.’

      ‘Oh, we know you are leaving,’ she said, waving a plump hand airily as her sister Armes emerged from the shadows to join her.

      Reynold vowed they would not sway him with their wiles. In fact, he would tell them he was off to check the dam or the fields or any one of a number of tasks that he helped his father and the bailiff oversee, so that he would be rid of them. However, when he opened his mouth, he blurted out that which was uppermost in his mind instead.

      ‘Don’t try to stop me.’

      ‘We wouldn’t dream of it, my dear,’ Cafell said, reaching out a hand to pat his sleeve.

      ‘Of course, you must go,’ Armes said. Taller than her sister, she lifted