"Brotherhood Of The Sword - 04 - A Dark Champion" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacGregor Kinley)

come here seeking fame or fortunehe had more than his share of both. He was in
Hexham at the king's command so that the king could keep an eye on Stryder, who
had been having more than his fair share of "accidents" lately. Indeed, someone
wanted him dead in the worst sort of way and until they found out who, Henry
wanted to keep Stryder on home soil.
Stryder glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the ladies were trailing
after them. Though the women looked on their departure longingly, they had
blessedly remained behind.
"What brings you here?" Stryder asked Christian.
Christian's expression was dark as they climbed the hill. "I come with bad
tidings, I'm afraid. Lysander of Marseilles was killed."
Stryder stopped dead in his tracks at the news. Lysander of Marseilles had been
one of the men who had been imprisoned in Outremer. Once the Brotherhood had
freed the man, Stryder himself had sent Lysander to Scotland to serve in the
household of a friend.
"How can that be?"
"He was tortured and murdered," Christian said, his voice carrying the full
weight of anger that Stryder felt.
"Who would dare such?"
"An enemy to the Highland MacAllister clan," Christian said, his voice deepened
by anger and grief. "After Lysander and Pagan helped Ewan MacAllister home,
Lysander was captured and killed for the deed. I'm headed north now to help
Pagan find and kill those responsible."
"You need another sword?"
Christian's face relaxed instantly. "I would say aye, but the mere fact that you
are here in England and not on the continent tells me you are on king's business
and not free to leave."
Stryder growled at that. "Aye. But it sits ill with me that one of our own was
slain."
"Believe me, we all share that sentiment."
Stryder had no doubt. They hadn't survived the horrors of their captivity to
return home to be tortured and murdered. The anger he felt at that thought
swirled inside him, making him want blood. "Swear to me you'll make the culprit
pay."
"You may have no fear on that count. Pagan wrote that he intended to show the
one responsible how the Saracens treated their prisoners."
Stryder grimaced involuntarily at the reminder of some of their "lessons" at the
hands of their captors. Those heathens knew well how to make anyone regret
having been born, and when it came to bloody acts, he doubted if anyone could
best Pagan. No one knew the man's real nationality, but they all knew Pagan's
willingness to cut any handy throat. "Good."
Christian clapped him on the back and started up the hill again.
As they walked, Stryder began picking the ribbons and garters from his armor and
helm where the women had placed them.
Christian gave a low deep laugh as he watched him. "Ever your curse to be
pursued by the fairer sex, eh?"
Stryder gave him a droll stare. "Methinks I should tell them of Prince
Christian. That should bide me a moment of peace from them and their
machinations to wed me."
"That would help you not at all since I am already betrothed."