It was late and Luc still lay awake, trying to both cast the woman from his mind and find comfort in the hay. On either side of the stall he had chosen, warhorses and palfreys stamped in their stalls and nosed in their feed bins. Otherwise, the stable was shadowed and silent.
A whisper sliced through the quiet like a knife through fresh cheese. Truly there was naught more effective than a hushed voice just beyond earshot to make any man stop and listen.
Which Luc did.
“What has taken you so long?” the voice demanded, frustration evident even in the low tone. “I have been waiting and waiting, with no word at all.”
“The land is besieged,” retorted a second even lower voice, tinged with impatience.
Two men ’twas, of that Luc was certain. He could not guess their identities when their voi
