The Knight's Return
North of London, 1169
Waking proved difficult when one's eyes were stuck shut.
The dizzy-headed man stretched the muscles in his face from his position on the hard pallet. He willed his lids to open so that he might see the world about him. The scents that assailed him were at once familiar and strange. Sheep dung. Hay. The burnt remains of some poorly cooked meal. Likewise, the sounds did not provide any clues. He heard children shouting and laughing. A woman's voice yelling. Animals braying, naying and snorting.
The effect was unpleasant and not what he was accustomed to. Or was it?
Worry crawled along his forehead as he struggled to envision a normal morning. A normal day? He was not sure of the time let alone the place.
"The border leaves this morn, Meg," a man's deep voice barked nearby. "His illness is a burden on this family that robs our own children of food."
"Have you no Christian charity, husband?" The softly sweet feminine tones sounded almost musical in the cool room.
Was he the topic of discussion? It was no leap to guess his health was poor since he could not open his eyes. His body ached with weakness, his limbs too heavy to lift.
"You ... read full excerpt from: The Knight's Return ebook
