Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,3

have won, the same as…” He feigned searching his memory. “Was it not David of the Bible who stole upon his treacherous king in a cave and spared his life though he could have slit his throat?”

This king set his head to the side.

Sensing the moment he unraveled that, Vitalis said, “It is true, Your Majesty. Do you inventory your person, you will discover you miss the same thing King Saul lost to the man he persecuted.”

Was it a credit to William he did not scrabble at his mantle to verify it was despoiled while he was ashamedly vulnerable? That his only visible reaction was further darkening of his face?

“I am impressed, Vitalis. As you seem a worthy opponent, let us meet at swords.”

Great the temptation, especially since it could cool this anger. Were he in good health, therefore more confident of success, he would accept. “I am not here to slay you, Duke, neither by stealth, as must be obvious since you breathe, nor to issue or accept a challenge.”

“Then you wish to surrender to me personally in the hope of gaining mercy for having taken only a piece of my mantle?”

Vitalis wished he could laugh. “No surrender, defiler of England. I am here because your prey could not resist becoming acquainted with his prey.”

The point of William’s blade wavered. “You think I will allow you to depart alive?”

“Allow?” Vitalis stepped nearer to reveal the sword at his hip, then raised his dagger higher. “If I sought permission and agreed to leave your life intact, it would be a temporary state.” It sounded a challenge, and not a wise one considering the mess his insides made of themselves, but so great was this hatred for the man who had stolen all, it had to be spoken.

Though there was satisfaction in the expansion of William’s ire, also much warning.

I should have heeded Zedekiah, especially as he insisted on accompanying me, Vitalis silently rued. To endanger him like this, tempting him out of the shadows and onto the conqueror’s blade… Mayhap proof I am as ill of mind as of body.

“Even were you capable of slaying me, Saxon,” William said, “you would not get past my men. Hence, your life forfeited, and in the most heinous manner for spilling the blood of an anointed king. Your king.”

It was hard not to set his blade against the devil’s, and surely for that Zedekiah had refused to be parted from him.

Attempting to exude confidence despite a cramp so sharp it nearly bent him over, Vitalis returned his dagger to its scabbard. “No matter a warrior’s renown,” he said, “ever the possibility he will lose his life in pursuit of honoring his calling, especially when he stands alone. I do not.”

So slight was the movement of William’s head, only because Vitalis watched for it did he know the man searched the shadows.

“Nor shall I depart the cave by way of your entrance, king of the Normans. So allow me to further impress you, this time with dire warning. For all the evil and injustice you visit on my people, you know little of what is concealed beneath England’s skirts.”

William grunted. “There is another entrance to the cave.”

Thinking he should not be surprised the conqueror did not protest the charges leveled against him, Vitalis inclined his head. “Five widely divergent entrances, more if one is exceedingly small of stature.” He tucked the cloth beneath his belt. “Now I shall take my pound of flesh and go.”

Seeing William’s eyes move to that which evidenced his shame and the mercy of which he was unworthy, Vitalis was prepared when he asked, “Why did you not put a blade in my back? And do not say it is because you are a Saxon to my Norman, you whose people think naught of murdering a rival and his family in their beds.”

It was true some Saxon nobles and their kin found a bad end in that manner, whereas William leaned hard toward sparing those whose nobility he believed placed them nearer God. Were the usurper’s enemies not forgiven after great trials to prove themselves trustworthy, they were hobbled by imprisonment fashioned of close watch on their persons or iron bars.

“Non,” Vitalis said, “I do not claim the Saxon in me grants you mercy. It is my training at Wulfen by Lady Hawisa’s sire.”

“Ah, that rebellious woman I wed to my man, Guarin D’Argent.”

Cousin to William’s captain of the guard, Sir Maël. Vitalis nearly smiled. Le Bâtard could have forced