Murder at Penwood Manor
For Amina, who dreams... perseveres...inspires “Seek and you shallfind.”
Murder at Penwood Manor
The Harwood Mysteries
Book 5
Copyright © 2023 Antony Barone Kolenc
All rights reserved.
Cover art credit: Martin Beckett, MahirAtes/iStockphoto/Getty Images. p. viii-x Map art credit: Martin Beckett
Back cover author photo, SSSPHOTOGRAPHIC, LLC.
ISBN: 978-0-8294-5554-0
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023938678
Printed
America.
How to Read Historical Fiction
MurderatPenwoodManor isaworkofhistoricalfiction.Thistype ofbookdiffersfromnonfictionbecausethestoryisimaginedbythe authoranddoesmorethansimplytellyou“whathappened.”Rather, thistypeofbookhelpsyou,thereader,understandwhathappenedin historywhiledrawingyouinandentertainingyou.Thestoryinvites youtomakeconnectionswithsituationsandcharactersandtodiscoverwhatstaysthesameforpeopleofanyperiodandalsodetermine what might have changed overtime.
Eventhoughthecharactersandeventsareimagined,anauthorof historicalfictiontriestobeaccuratewhenpresentingwhatitmight havebeenlikeforaspecificgroupofpeopletoliveandworkinaparticulartimeandplace.That’swhyanauthormightpresentscenesand dialogue that differ greatly from what we experiencetoday.
Thesedifferencesarealsowhysomeofwhatyoureadmightfeelforeignorevenshocking.Asyouread,rememberthatinsomecases,the charactersaren’tdoingsomething“wrong”;theyaresimplydoingwhat wasconsideredacceptableatthattime.Asthereader,it’simportant foryoutoreadcriticallythroughout.Ifyou’reinterestedinlearning moreaboutthehistoricalcontextof MurderatPenwoodManor,you’ll findmoreinformationinthebackofthebook,intheAuthor’sHistoricalNote.
Herearesometipsformakingthemostof MurderatPenwood Manor.
Before Reading
DosomebriefInternetresearchaboutlifeintwelfth-centuryEngland andinatypicalcityofthattime.Watchavideo,viewillustrations,or read an article to gain some historicalcontext.
During Reading
Ask yourself questions such as thefollowing:
•In what ways are the actions and reactions of young characters like those of kids today? In what ways are theydifferent?
•God and religion played a significant role in the lives of people during the Middle Ages. What religious terms and ideas in Murder at Penwood Manor seem strange to you, and why? What aspects of religion in the story are more familiar to you, andwhy?
•Xanandhisfriendsrelyonthecareandhonestyoftheadultsin theirlives.Howaretheseexpectationschallenged?Whatgoalsand dreamsinfluencedpeopleinthisstory?Doyouseeanythingsimilarhappeningtoday?Whyorwhynot?
After Reading
Ask yourself questions such as thefollowing:
•Inwhatwaysdopeoplenowthinkandactdifferentlyfrompeople inXan’stime?Doyouthinktoday’swaysarebetterornot?Why?
•Why did Xan and others suspect that the returned Crusader might bedemon-possessed? How did Father Andrew and others discern aboutthis?
•Xan felt that God had given Lucy light and clarity for her life but had withheld these things from Xan. What did Xan discover by the end of thestory?
1 Crusader Road
Xanpeeredatthethreateningcloudsgatheringabovethe creaky wagon. “The sky growsdarker.”
Hesatinbackonthewoodenbench,nexttoChristinaand acrossfromFatherPhilip.Infront,UncleWilliamdrovetwosweaty horses, their hooves kicking up earth with eachstep.
Behindthethinface-veilthatcoveredhernoseandcheeks, Christinaturnedtothesky.“Maybetherainiscomingatlasttowet downallthisdustbeforeitchokesustodeath.”Shecoughedand brusheddirtfromherdress,whichwasthesameemeraldcoloras hereyes.
Shewasright:theblackhidesofthecarthorseshadbecomegray fromtherelentlessdust.EventhegreenwoolofXan’stunichadgrown dimmer.Thismustbethedriestweekof1187—surelythethirstiest Easter season in all the long history ofEngland.
YetChristinashouldbecarefulaboutprayingforrain.Thisdustwas betterthanthestormthathadwreckedXan’sjourneyalongthissame roadtwoyearsago.Inthatthunderousdownpour,theircartfromHarwood Abbey had metdisaster.
FatherPhilipgrippedtheedgeofhisbrownrobe.“Weshouldrest soon,William.Mysorebonesneedabreakbeforewereachthevillage.” Theoldpriestwasprobablywornoutfromallthecratersthey’dridden oversincethey’dleftLincolnontheirjourneynorthtoPenwoodManor.
Xanpointedtothepath.“’TisthisbumpyRomanroad,Father. ’Twasbuiltoversevenhundredyearsago,andtheysayKingHenry hardly repairsit.”
“IsthatwhatthemonksatHarwoodAbbeycallthispath?”Uncle said.“YourgrandfatherusedtocallitCrusaderRoad,’twassofilled withbravemenreturninghomefromCrusade—andluckiermerchants than I, who found easy fortunes on theirtravels.”
“Notonly men camehome.”Christinastraightenedherface-veil, whichshehadrecentlyfastenedtoherhead-coveringtohidethe jaggedscarthatstretchedfromherlipstothetopofherright cheek—the badgeofshame carveduponherlastyearbyadaggerinthe ruinsofLincolnCathedral.“Womenwent,too.Mygrandmotherwas a washerwoman in the lastCrusade.”
“A what?” Xan said. “They let girls go towar?”
Shesighed.“A washerwoman,Alexander:cleaningclothes,preparingmeals,stitchinggarments.Youthinkmencoulddoallthat withoutwomen?”
“There were afewwomenwhofoughtinthewar,mydear,”thepriest said. “Famousones.”
“Didyouhearthat,Xan?Womenwarriors.”Christinamusthave been grinning behind herveil.
Sheoftenteasedhimthesedayswithstoriesofthewomeninhistory whohadneverneededhusbands.Butnomatterhowgoodacompanionhe’dbeentoChristinathispastyear,hisfriendshiphadn’tcured thesadnessveiledbeneathherplayfulstories.Norhadhisworkasa merchant’sapprenticerestoredUncle’swealthaftertheirterriblemisfortunes lastyear.
When will you give me some light on this path,Lord?
Nodoubt,hewaswalkingthepathGodhadpavedforhimsince thedaythosebanditsburnedhisvillageandkilledMotherandFather, causinghimtoliveatHarwoodAbbeywiththemonksandthenuns andtheotherorphans,andLucy,ofcourse.Butthepathhadbeendim andwinding.He’dfollowedGod’swilltoleavetheabbeyandmoveto Lincoln,wherehe’dworkedwithUncleandChristina.He’dkepttothat pathfortwoyears,yethiseverystephadbeenindarkness.Hownice itmustbeforLucy—nowanoviceintheabbey’snunnery—towalkon herwell-litpath,knowinginadvancethepeaceeachdaywouldgive toher.
“Whomight that be?”FatherPhilippointedattwofiguresstruggling on the roadahead.
UncleWilliampulledthehorsestoahalt,andthewoodenchests neartheirfeetslidalongthewagon’sfloor.Twoofthechestscontained suppliesfortheirjourney,butthethirdhadbeenfilledbyUncleinprivate, its secrets secured by a heavy lock to which only Uncle had akey.
Xanstoodtolook,butsodidUncle,blockingtheviewwithhiswide shoulders.
“Two men... battling each other,” Uncle Williamsaid.
FatherPhiliprose,thetipofhisnosepointedtowardthescene.“Are theytrulyfighting,oristheonetryingtohelptheother?Therearetwo horses tied to a nearbytree.”
XantiltedtoUncle’ssidetoseebetter.Inthedistance,atall,bearded manhadbotharmslockedaroundastockiermanwiththick,dark hair.Iftheywerebattling,thetalleronemustbesqueezingthelifefrom hisopponent.Yetthatdidn’tseemtobehisintent,forthemanhad spotted their wagon on the road and was crying out for them tohelp.
“What do we do, Father?” Uncle said. “’Tis no business ofours.”
Unclewasright.Theyhadn’ttakenthisjourneyforadventurebut foranEastervisittoFatherAndrewandtheothersatHarwoodAbbey andPenwoodManor.Unclehadcomealongasasortofpilgrimageto thanktheBenedictinemonksforallthey’ddoneincaringforXan.And Christinahadcomeastheirassistant,afterUncleandFatherPhiliphad
convincedherparentsthatherdepressedmoodmightbeliftedonthe holy grounds of anabbey.
“What should we do?” Uncle said again. “Shall we pass themby?”
Thepriestscratchedathissilverhair.“Goddidnotpass us by despitealloursinfulness,butraisedHisSonfromthedeadtosaveus. Plus,ifthesetwohavetraveledsofaruponthisroad,thenPenwood Manor must also be their destination.”
Xantightenedtheleatherbeltaroundhistunic.“I’llgoseewhat’s happening.”
Lord, give me the strength Ineed.
Christinablockedhispath.“You’rebarelyfourteenyearsold!Ifanyoneshouldhelpthosemen,itshouldbeyouruncle.”Herwordsstung. Afterall,hewasonlyayearyoungerthansheandhadprovedhisbravery many times. Yet her tone sounded not with insult butconcern.
“We should all go,” Father Philip said. “Drive the horses,William.”
TheysatbackdownasUnclecuedthehorsesalongtheroadtoward themen.Bythetimethecarthadstopped,theclashbetweenthetwo foeshadended.Thebeardedman—pantingandsweating—clungto his shorter opponent, whose body had gone entirelylimp.
Father Philip stood in the wagon. “What is happeninghere?”
“Giveaid!”themansaid.Heworefittedblackpantsandacrimson shirt,suchasawealthycraftsmanmightwear.“Heistooheavyforme.” Nodoubt,thestockyman’sleathershirtofarmoraddedtotheweight of his unconsciousframe.
“C’mon,Uncle!”
XanrushedpastChristinaandleaptfromthewagontothedusty road,thethinsolesofhisshoesslappinguponthedirt.UncleWilliam followed.
Theyeachtookholdofoneofthelimpman’sshoulders,while thebeardedmansupportedtheback.Togethertheyslidthebody alongthedirtandlaiditgentlyuponthegrassunderatree,notfar fromwherethetwobrownhorsesweretied.Abroadironswordlay
unsheathedinthedirtnearby,thewords“Godwillsit”carvedintoits hilt in the Latintongue.
Thebeardedmancollapsedtothegrassandputhiselbowsonhis knees,restinghisheadinhispalms.“Thankyou,”hesaidbetween huffs. “I was entirelyspent.”
Christinahurrieddowntotheunconsciousman’sside.Sheplaceda gentlehanduponhisforeheadandbentclosetohisface.“Heisbreathing as though in a deepsleep.”
FatherPhilipdismountedwithgreatcare.“Whathappened?Who areyou?”
“Iamamerchant,”themansaid,stilloutofbreath.“Robertis myname.”
Uncleperkedupanddrewcloser.“Itooamamerchant—fromLincoln.MynameisWilliam,andthisismynephewandapprentice,Xan. Where do you conduct yourbusiness?”
“Please,William,”thepriestsaid.“Therewillbetimetotalkofyour shoplater.”
Uncle nodded and took a stepback.
“IamamerchantofYork,”Robertsaid.“Ihavetraveledfaronthe roadwiththisman,Laurence—eversincewedebarkedourshipat Dartmouth, newly returned from the HolyLand.”
“Areyoucrusaders?”Xanasked.Thatwouldexplainthearmorand the ironsword.
“LaurencefoughttoprotecttheKingdomofJerusalem,andItooam acrusaderofsorts—thoughmymissionforjewelryandotherfineries is far moreworldly.”
“Whatisthematterwiththeman?”FatherPhilipsaid.“Whywere you twostruggling?”
“Anevilmoodovertookhim—afitoffury,ashashappenedseveral timesbefore.”Robert’sbearddroopedlower.“ThesepastdaysIhave discoveredthatsomedevilhauntshisnightmares.Attimesheawakes inapanicinthedark—orevenifwerestindaylight,ashappened momentsago—shoutingandclawingathisface,beatinghimselfabout
thechestandhead.Iknownotwhythesefitsovertakehim,thoughhe often mutters about demons when hedreams.”
“Demons?” Christina said. “Is he cursed,then?”
Robertgaveashrug.“Whenthefoulmoodscomeuponhim,allI can do is try to prevent him from causing too much harm tohimself.”
“Does he ever attack you?” Xansaid.
“Notwithmalice.Ihavelearnedthatrestraininghimfrombehind is my safestcourse.”
FatherPhilipblessedthemerchant.“’TisveryChristianofyouto care for thiscrusader.”
“Heisagoodman,Father.Hehassufferedmuchforthesakeof God’s kingdom onearth.”
ChristinatouchedLaurence’sforeheadagain.“Howlongwillhe sleep likethis?”
“Perhapsamoment,perhapsanhour.Whoknows?”Robertstood. “Whenhedoesawake,hewilllikelynotrememberthatweeverstruggled, nor how he got beneath thattree.”
Uncledrewneartothemerchant.“AreyoutwotravelingtoPenwoodManor?”
“Aye.Laurencesayshelivesthere,andIwillrestadaybeforeheading toYork.”
“Perhapswecanridetogether,”Unclesaid.“Iwishtohearmoreof yourbusinessasamerchantinJerusalem.Mygoodfortuneseemsto haverunoutontheshoresofEngland.Everyshipmentismoreastruggle for me than thelast.”
Robertsmiled.“TherearemanyfortunestobemadeintheHoly Land,myfriend.Iwillreturntheresoonenough.ItraveltoYorkonly to check on my home’s affairs and toresupply.”
FatherPhilipclearedhisthroatandraisedasilvereyebrow.“Later, William.Wemustwakethiscrusadernowandgetbackonthismiserable road before night befallsus.”
Asifoverhearingthepriest’swords,Laurencestirred.Hisbreathing becameshallower,hisfacegrewpaler,andhislipsformedwhispered words: “Daemonium... daemonium!”
He’s speaking inLatin.
XansteppedclosertoChristina.“Haveacare.Hetalksof demonsagain.”
Father Philip fell back. “Is this the start of another fit,Robert?”
Beforethemancouldanswer,thecrusaderopenedhiseyesand sprang up with a fiercecry.
2 New Threats
XanleaptinfrontofChristina,plantinghimselfbetweenher andthecrusader,whohadspunaroundinacircle,wide-eyed andpanicked.
Not again! Protect her,Lord.
ChristinahadsufferedenoughbecauseofXan.Intheruinsofthe cathedral,she’dthrownherselfintothepathofdangertoprotecthim. Itwasnowonderherparentshadblamedhimforherscar,though they’d recently forgiven him because he’d shown her suchloyalty.
“Youaresafe,Laurence,”Robertsaid,bothhandsraisedtocalmhis companion.
“What?”Thecrusaderplacedahanduponaclopofdirtontheback ofhisthickhair.Hisbulgingeyestookinthescenearoundhim:his horsetiedtoatree,hisswordunsheathedupontheground,Xan’sarm outtodefendChristina,UncleWilliamcrouchinginsurprise,Father Philip making the Sign of the Cross. “W-whathappened?”
“Anotherfit,”Robertsaid.“TheseGoodSamaritansstoppedalong the road to helpus.”
“Another...fit.”Laurenceeyedhisarmor,thethickleatherpouch attachedtohisbelt,thesturdybootsatthebottomofhisblackpant legs. “Another fit,” he repeated in a whisper. “Aye.”
Withthat,thetensemoodfaded.Reliefgrewintheireyesasseveral quiet momentspassed.
Finally,Robertbenttothegroundtorecoverablanket.“Nightwill beonuserewegettoPenwood,myfriend,unlesswedepartsoon.Let us ride together with our newcompanions.”
ChristinaplacedherhandonXan’sarm—stilloutstretched—and forcedittohisside.“Calloffthebattle,Alexander.I’msafe.”Shewas teasing again, yet her voice wasgentle.
“Right.”Hebrushedhissweatyhairbehindhisears.“Ofcourse youare.”
Laurencebowedunsteadily.“Forgiveme,Ihavemywitsnow.Iam Laurence ofLeeds.”
“Leeds?” Uncle said. “I thought you lived at PenwoodManor.”
“MybrotherRolfelivesatPenwood.Ialsostayedthereafewyears beforeItookuptheCrossfortheHolyLand,departingforthemighty castle fortress atKerak.”
FatherPhilipsteppedforwardandintroducedeachofthemtothe crusader.“ThankyouforyourservicetoGod’skingdom,Laurence. Men such as you keep Jerusalem in Christianhands.”
Thecrusaderflinchedatthecompliment,hiseyesturningdownward.“Ideservenopraise,Father,andJerusalemwillsoonbeinthe hands of Saladin, Ifear.”
Thename Saladin hadbeenutteredmanytimesthepastfewyears, bothbythemonksofHarwoodAbbeyandthemenofLincoln.Saladin:sultanandrulerofthe Saracens—thecountlessfollowersof MohammedthroughouttheHolyLand.Thesultan’slegendarywisdomandgenerosityweresurpassedonlybyhisreputationfor ruthlessness toward hisenemies.
XanturnedtoUncle.“Didn’tyoutellmethattheChristianssigned a truce with Saladin to keep peace between the twokingdoms?”
“Yourunclespoketruly,”thecrusadersaid.“Butnoneofthatwill matter in theend.”
FatherPhilipshookhishead.“Hasthatsultanbecomesoambitious astobreakasworntruce?DoeshealreadyfeelJerusalemwithinhis grasp, though so many Christian strongholds stillstand?”
“TheyshallnotstandmuchlongeragainsttheSaracens,”Laurence said. “Mark mywords.”
Asiftoconfirmhisprediction,drizzlefellupontheirheadsatthat verymoment.Butmaybe’twasnotanillomen;rainwouldhelpkeep the dust in its place for the final hours of theirjourney.
Robertuntiedoneoftheirhorses.“Come.Wecanspeakmoreaswe ride to themanor.”
Thecrusaderstillseemedshaken,however,withhiseyesunsettled. “Givemeamomenttocomposemyself.”Withthat,heheadedintothe woodland,asRobertpackedtheirgearandtheothersmountedthe wagon again, their faces lifted to the coolraindrops.
WhenLaurencereturned,heseemedtransformed.Gonewerethe jitterynervesandfearfuleyes,theshakinghandsanddoubtfulglances. Hewalkedwithconfidence,throwinghispackontheotherhorseand mounting it in a single motion. “Weride!”
ThisversionofLaurencetrulyactedthepartofacrusader,nowthat his mood hadpassed.
Withlightraintocomfortthemalongtheroad,theymetnofurther delays.WhileRobertledhishorsebesideUncletotalkmerchant business,Laurencerodenearthebackofthewagonwiththeothers, speakingwithFatherPhilipatlengthaboutthediresituationinthe Holy Land. The topic seemed to dampen the crusader’sspirits.
“YoumustlovetheHolyLandverymuch,”Christinasaid,withgreat feeling.
“More than I cansay.”
“Isthatwhyyoutookthevowtogothere?”Xansaid.“Toseeitfor yourself?”
Laurencenodded.“ItookuptheCrossthreeyearsago,when rumorswererunningwildthatSaladinwaspoisedforall-outwar againsttheChristians.”Thecrusaderwentontoexplainhowthe peacehadbeenkeptuntillastyear,whenKingBaldwin—theone theycalledthe leperking becausehe’dbeenstrickenwithleprosyasa child—died,leadingtomuchpoliticalupheaval.Hissuccessorapparently was unpopular with hissubjects.
“Why do they dislike this new king so much?” Xansaid.
“Becauseheisafool,andfoolsmakefordangerousleaders.”Laurence grew silentagain.
Infrontofthewagon,RobertwasspeakingwithUncleaboutthe easewithwhichmerchantsweremakingfortunesinLisbonandXelb and other places with oddnames.
“Forthosewhoriskit,therearerichestobegainedeveninDamascus,” Robertsaid.
Unclesmiled.“HowIenvyyou.InLincoln,Istruggledfortwenty yearstobuildupthekindofbusinessyouhavenegotiatedinasingle month. I suffered some ill luck,unfortunately.”
Unclemustbereferringtothedoomedshipmentsthathadwasted hislifesavings,causinghimtorecklesslytakealoanfromthatevil usurer,theMaster.ThatwasbeforeXanhadcometoLincolnthatfirst timeinthecompanyoftherepentantprisoner,Carlo—theverybandit responsibleforthedeathsofMotherandFather.XanhadsavedUncle fromtheMasterintheend,butmoretragedyhadstruckthembecause of events in Lincoln lastyear.
“Ifearmydaysofmerchantingarenearinganend,”Unclesaidto Robert in a hushedvoice.
DespiteXan’shardworkandsupport,Unclehadbarelypaidoffthe debtsthathadremainedaftertheirmisfortunelastyear.They’dput awayamodestsavingsnow,butforUncleitneverseemedenough. Healwaysworriedthattheirprogresshadbeentoolittleforlasting success.
Inthebackofthewagon,FatherPhilipaskedLaurenceanother question aboutJerusalem.
Thecrusader’sanswerwasevenbleakerthanbefore:“Jerusalem hangsbyathread.WhileSaladingatheredhispoweramongtheSaracens,ourpettyChristianlordsconspiredagainstoneanother,plotting waystokeepthekingshipfromeachotherafterthedeathofour beloved leperking.”
“Whataboutthecrusaders?”Xansaid.“Aretherenototherslikeyou taking up theCross?”
“Notnearlyenoughofthem.Foryears,ourleadershavebeggedthe EnglishandtheFrankstosendmoremenonCrusadetostrengthen ourdefenses,buttheircrieshavefallenondeafears.KingHenrysends atitheoftreasureeachyear,butwhattheyreallyneedismenwith swords.”
LastyearinLincoln,they’dallseenfirsthandthekindofdistractions KingHenrywasfacinginhisoldage.Hissonswerefightingamong themselvestogainpowerinthehopeofbecomingthenextkingafter theirfatherdied.Itwasnowonderthekinghadhesitatedtosendhis knights to the far-off HolyLand.
“Enoughnewsofdespair,”FatherPhilipsaid.“Tellusaboutyour family.”
Laurenceeasedintohissaddle.“IhaveanuncleatPenwoodManor. AndthereismybrotherRolfe,whommyfathersenttoPenwoodasa boywhenmyuncle’ssondiedinaplague.Ijoinedmybrotheratthe manor a few years later. That is where I met myMuriel.”
Atthementionofthewoman’sname,asmilefinallyformedonLaurence’slips.
“Muriel?”Christinasaid,apparentlyfindingatopicofinterestat last. “Is she yourwife?”
“Notyet,”Laurencesaid.“ButIsoughtpermissionfromherfather tomakeaproposalofmarriageereIdepartedtoJerusalem.He promised I could have her hand if I everreturned.”
“Andhereyouare,”Christinasaid,probablysmilingbehindthethin, white face-covering.
Laurence’s eyes lit up. “And here Iam.”
“AndhereisPenwoodManor!”UncleWilliamannounced,pointing to the pathahead.
FatherAndrewusedtospeakoftenaboutPenwoodManor:oneofa pairofmanorsthatsupportedHarwoodAbbey’sblackmonks,asthey werecalledbecauseofthecoloroftheirrobes.Xanhadneverbeen toPenwood,butitcouldn’tbemuchdifferentfromhisoldmanor, Hardonbury,withfieldsofcropsandtinycottagesandachurchforthe people to worshipin.
Thedustyroad—nowtamedbytherain—ledthempastawooden fence,wheresheepgrazedinapasture.He’dtendedsuchsheepwith Fatherasachild,whenhewasn’thelpingtoharvestthecropsinthe EastField.ThosedayswerelongafterUnclehaddepartedHardonbury forLincolntobecomeamerchant.Theywerealsosomeofthebest days of Xan’slife.
“WherewillyouallbestayinginPenwood?”LaurenceaskedFather Philip.
“OneofmyparishionersfromLincolnhasfamilyherethatwewill visit,”thepriestsaid.“Theyhaveagreedtoletusstayonextramattresses in their cottage for a few nights, atleast.”
Robert seemed concerned. “Must you all sleep on the floor,then?”
“We’llbegoingtoHarwoodAbbeysoon,”Xansaid.“They’llhave spaceforusintheguestroomsfortherestofourtrip.”Truthbetold, therewasnoneedtoworryabouttheiraccommodations.ThehospitalityoftheBenedictinemonkstowardtravelerswaslegendary,and theirweeklongvisitwouldlikelyinvolvesleepinginseverallocations before it wasover.
“Wearedrawingneartomyhome,”Laurencesaid.“Letmeintroduce you to myuncle.”
Theyrodepastarowofwoodencottageswiththatchedroofs, granderthanthoseatHardonbury.Theyhaltedthehorsesinfrontofa
structurethriceaslargeasXan’soldcottage—itevenhadtwowindows onthesameside.PerhapsHardonbury had beenthepoorestmanorin England.
Atallmanwithstragglyhairemergedfromthecottagedoorwearingalonggrayshirtpulledoverblackpants.“Isthatyou,brother?Can it truly beso?”
ThemanrushedtoLaurence’shorse,whichthecrusaderdismounted in a singlemotion.
They embraced. “Rolfe! You look healthier than Iremember.”
XanelbowedChristina.“Helooksabitsicklytome,don’t youthink?”
Shenoddedinagreement,forRolfe’spalefacewasmarkedbydark bags under hiseyes.
“Thesepastfewdaystheweatherhasbeenabitbetterformycondition,”Rolfesaid.“ButIheartheHolyLandismiserablyhot.Ifonlymy health would have let me join youthere.”
Laurencesteppedback.“Iamhomenow,brother,sodonotworry anylongeraboutyourhealthanditslimits.Whereisouruncle?Why has he not come out to greetus?”
Rolfepointedtowardthemainroad.“HehasgonetoLeedstovisit our cousins forEaster.”
“Ofcourse,”Laurencesaid.HepointedtoXanandtheothers. “Wherearemymanners?Letmeintroducemycompanions.”Hepresented each of them to Rolfe inturn.
“Ifyouarefriendsofmybrother,thenyouareverywelcomehere,” Rolfesaid.
Laurenceswiveledhisheadtotakeinthearea,asthoughhewere searchingforsomeone.“AndhowismyMuriel?Haveyoubeenlooking after her, as youpromised?”
ThebagsunderRolfe’sweakeyesseemedtodarkenevenfurther. “Well...I—Icansaythatsheisnot unwell;sheisstillstayingwithher father near the WestField.”
“Notunwell?”LaurencedrewnearerandplacedhishandonRolfe’s arm. “What is the matter, brother? Has something happened toher?” Rolfehesitated.“It—’TisonlythatRogerSmithyhastakenupmuch of her time oflate.”
“Roger!”Laurence’svoicedroppedtoagrowl.“Thatblacksmithsets hisambitionsoneveryyoungwomaninthisvillage!Hebestkeephis filthy hands away from what ismine.”
“Murielhastriedtokeephimatbay,but...well,Rogercanbevery persuasive.”
Laurencegraspedthehiltofhisswordanddrewitfromitssheath. “Thisbladehasbeenstainedwiththebloodofgreatermenthana blacksmith,Rolfe.”
ThedarkfirethataroseinLaurence’seyesseemedtohavecome fromtheverydemonsthathadplaguedhisdreams.Heangrilyjabbed his sword into theair.
“Markmywords,brother.RogershallleavemyMurielinpeaceifhe values hislife.”
About the Author
AntonyBaroneKolencretiredasaLieutenantColonelfromtheU.S. AirForceJudgeAdvocateGeneral’sCorpsaftertwenty-oneyearsof militaryservice.Hehasbeenalawprofessorforoveradecade,publishingnumerouslegalworks.Hespeaksinmiddle-schoolclassrooms aroundthenation,aswellasatconferencesonwriting,homeeducation,andlegaltopics.Heandhiswife,Alisa,haveseveralwonderful children andgrandchildren.
Other Books by Antony Barone Kolenc
Harwood MysterySeries
Shadow in theDark
The HauntedCathedral
The Fire ofEden
The Merchant’sCurse
Xan and Christina embark on a journey to Harwood Abbey, where they reunite with their old friends, Lucy and Joshua. When a brutal murder occurs at nearby Penwood Manor, all evidence points to Laurence, a Crusader recently returned from the Holy Land. Unconvinced of the man’s guilt, Xan and his friends must act swiftly to solve the crime.
Who could have committed such a horrible killing? Is anyone safe?
Is Laurence tormented by demons, or is he haunted by some other secret?
And will Xan be forever changed by the choice Lucy and Christina present to him?
ISBN: 978-0-8294-5554-0 $19.99 U.S.