Read Medieval 02 - Forbidden for Free Online Page A

delighted barks. The gander arched its long neck, lowered its head, spread its wings, and hissed menacingly.
    The hound kept coming.
    “Erik,” Amber said, “call him off!”
    “It will do him good.”
    “But—”
    The rangy, rough-coated dog attacked. The gander’s right wing came down in a blur of motion. The hound was knocked off its feet. Crying in surprise and pain, the dog scrambled upright and raced back to the pack, tail tucked low.
    Erik laughed so hard it upset the peregrine riding on a perch on the pommel of his saddle. Silver bells on the trailing ends of the jesses jangled harshly, telling of the bird’s disturbance. The falcon flared its narrow, elegant wings and gave a sharp, piercing cry.
    Erik’s answering whistle was as high and wild as the falcon’s. The bird cocked her head and whistled again. This cry was different, as was Erik’s whistled response.
    The falcon folded its wings and was quiet once more.
    Swift glances passed among the squires and knights who were hunting with Erik. His uncanny way with wild beasts was a matter of much speculation among the people. Though none called Erik sorcerer to his face, men whispered it among themselves.
    “Be easy, my beauty,” Erik said softly.
    He stroked the bird with his bare hand. His other hand wore a thick leather gauntlet for protection when the falcon rode his wrist.
    “Robbie,” Erik said to the hound master. “Take the hounds and my men off to the forest. You’re disturbing Amber’s peace.”
    Amber opened her mouth to say that wasn’t true. A glance from Erik silenced her. Without a word, Amber waited until the hounds, horses, and men rode back into the forest in a flurry of noise and motion.
    “How fares the stranger?” Erik asked bluntly.
    “Better than your hound.”
    “Maybe next time Trouble will come when Robbie sounds the hunting horn.”
    “Doubtful. Half-grown males have much passion and little brain.”
    “I’d be insulted if I weren’t fully grown,” Erik said.
    Amber widened her eyes. “Are you? Since when, my lord?”
    A smile flashed and faded on Erik’s handsome face. Silently he waited for Amber to speak of the fully grown male who lay within her cottage.
    “He is awake,” she said.
    Erik’s right hand settled on the hilt of the sword he always wore.
    “His name?” Erik demanded.
    “He doesn’t remember.”
    “What?”
    “He remembers no names from his past, not even his own.”
    “He is as cunning as a fox,” Erik said flatly. “He knows he is in enemy hands and—”
    “Nay,” Amber interrupted. “He knows not whether he is Norman or Saxon, serf or thane.”
    “Is he bewitched?”
    Amber shook her head. The sudden weight and shimmer of her hair falling around her shoulders reminded her that she hadn’t yet managed to bind the locks properly. Impatiently she tossed her head and pulled the mantle’s cowl over her hair, concealing it.
    “There is no feel of compulsion about him,” Amber said.
    “What else did you sense?”
    “Courage. Strength. Honor. Generosity.”
    Erik’s eyebrows rose.
    “A saint,” he said dryly. “How unexpected.”
    Color showed along Amber’s slanting cheekbones as she remembered Duncan’s distinctly unsaintly desire for her.
    “There was also confusion and pain and fear,” she said crisply.
    “Ah, he’s human, then. How disappointing.”
    “You’re a devil, Erik, son of Robert of the North!”
    His smiled. “Thank you. ’Tis nice to have my true character appreciated.”
    Amber laughed despite trying not to.
    “What else?” he asked.
    Her amusement faded. “Nothing.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    The falcon’s wings flared in swift reflection of its master’s irritation.
    “Why is he in the Disputed Lands?” asked Erik in a clipped voice.
    “He doesn’t remember.”
    “Where was he going?”
    “He doesn’t know,” she said.
    “Does he owe fealty to a lord or is he a free lance?”
    “He doesn’t know.”
    “God’s wounds,” Erik