Free Medieval Master Warlords by Kathryn Le Veque

felt. “May I ask one more thing of you?”
    He turned slightly but did not look at her.  His strong profile was illuminated in the haunting moonlight, his jaw flexing hazardously.
    “You have already asked quite enough.”
    “One more thing and I swear I shall ask no more.”
    “What is it?”
    “The baby,” her voice broke as much as she tried to control herself. “Could you please bury him with his father?”
    Jax stood there, jaw clenching and fists working.  Kellington knew she should run for her life but could not manage the feat.  She sensed that, for all of his fury, that he was experiencing a moment of extreme confusion.  If he was not, he would have surely unleashed himself on her by now.  She was smart enough to know when to capitalize on his moment of weakness; she had to make him understand.
    Kellington stepped over Trevan and made her way, hesitantly, to where Jax was standing.   The man was working fists that were the size of her head.  Her gaze trailed down his enormous back, with impossibly wide shoulders and slender waist, moving to his equally massive arms and skull-sized fists.   Taking a very big gamble, she reached out a small hand and laid it gently on one of his colossal fists.   His flesh was cold against her; cold and hard.  Her hand was soft and warm.  She took a good grip of his hand and squeezed.
    “Please, Sir Ajax,” she was standing very close to him, hoping her would feel the sincerity of her plea. “His name was Maxim. Bury him with his father.  Show us this one small mercy and I swear I’ll never ask another merciful favor from you.”
    He continued to stand like stone.  Kellington gave one last squeeze and turned for the keep, feeling her exhaustion and weakness to her very bones. 

 
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    They began coming at dawn, a fairly large army on the horizon that had the sentries on the walls shouting the news.  The early morning was filled with birds and men calling, the pink sky overhead promising a lovely May morning.  It seemed like any other normal day at Pelinom except that it was anything but normal.  The morning marked their twelfth day of hell.
    Kellington was up, gazing sleepily out of the lancet window into the bailey below.  The great gates, having since been repaired from the siege, were cranking open and there were many soldiers in the ward.  The grisly army of scarecrows was still there although Kellington tried not to notice; as the days passed and the stench faded, it was easier to resign herself to Jax’s handiwork. She wondered at the identity of the incoming army but did not pay an over amount of attention to it; there was nothing she could do about it.  With a yawn, she turned away from the window.
    Jax had not spoken to her in more than a week.  She had seen him every day as she settled in and resumed her usual duties, but he’d barely said a word to her in all that time.  A few times, she had caught him staring at her, but he had quickly averted his gaze and moved on to something else.  Trevan’s body was gone from the bailey and that was all she cared about at the moment; she hadn’t yet asked about the baby.
    As the sun rose, she bathed in warmed rosewater that Matilda had brought her and quickly dressed against the chill of the room.  Clad in soft a soft linen shift, she layered on a complete bliaut gown made from dark blue linen with a snug bodice, full skirt and long, flaring sleeves.  The wound on her shoulder was almost healed and gave no more pain as the fabric brushed against it. A belt of pewter link hung around her slender waist with decorative weights that caused it to hang properly.   The neckline was scooped, making a nice presentation of her full breasts and slender shoulders.  
    Matilda helped her roll on her fine wool hose and secure them with ribbons. The little servant slipped soft leather slippers on her mistress’ feet and went to work on the long blond hair.  It was straight and thick