Free A Spy for the Redeemer by Candace Robb

person if he was part of the staff?
    It was long after midnight when Harold’s search party returned. A horse and several lambs were missing, the fire in the gatehouse was under control, but the roof was gone – an assessment of the rest of the damage to the building must wait until daylight. They had found no strangers on the property, but as a precaution a night watch had been organised.
    Lucie thanked the men and sent them off to the kitchen for ale.
    Harold stayed. ‘You have shadows beneath your eyes,’ he said to Lucie. ‘What can I do to help hasten you to rest?’
    ‘Help Daimon into the hall. Tildy and I made up a pallet for him near the fire.’ As Harold turned away Lucie saw a rent in his leggings, a burned edge on his tunic. And he walked stiffly, as if weary to the bone. ‘Harold,’ she called softly. He turned. ‘God bless you for all you have done this night,’ she said. He smiled wearily, turned back to the task at hand. She watched him help Daimon to his feet. The poor young man was too dizzy to manage. Harold scooped him up and carried him to the pallet in the hall. The muscle-heavy Daimon seemed no burden to Harold.
    ‘He is strong,’ Tildy said at Lucie’s side.
    Lucie already had other things on her mind. She told Tildy her suspicion, that the outlaws might have an accomplice in the household. ‘Keep your own counsel. Warn Daimon, too.’
    ‘You think they might be back?’
    ‘I do not know. Why would thieves take such risk for a horse, two lambs, some silver plate, a torn tapestry and a modest amount of money?’
    ‘They took the tapestry?’
    ‘It was near the plate.’
    Tildy grinned. ‘Well, I should like to see their faces when they see the tear.’
    Her sleeve and skirt stained with her love’s blood, her shoulders rounded with weariness – Tildy was a strong young woman to find humour in anything this night. Lucie appreciated it, but she could not smile, for she felt too keenly that they were still in danger. ‘I am tired. And so must you be. See to Daimon, then get some sleep. You must be both lady of the manor and steward tomorrow.’
    ‘You still mean to ride to York in the morning?’
    ‘I do. Would you rather return with me?’ It was Tildy’s to choose. Lucie would not force her to remain here if she was frightened.
    ‘No. I am needed here. I should see to Daimon, get him settled.’
    Lucie watched the young woman hurry away. With her tender nursing the young steward would recover soon, Lucie thought. But how safe was Tildy in this house? Though Daimon had made sense when they asked him questions, he could not protect her. He said that when he lifted his bandaged head his stomach felt queer, which was worrisome but not surprising with a head injury. Besides that wound he had a swollen shoulder where his left arm had been pulled out of joint, a deep cut on his left palm and some slight burns. If Archbishop Thoresby granted her request, the two might be safe here. But what if he did not?
    But at the moment she must get her aunt to bed. The poor woman sat with chin on chest, snoring softly. When Lucie waked her, Phillippa clutched her sleeve. ‘How is he? Would you like me to sit with him?’
    ‘Tildy is with Daimon now.’
    Phillippa looked confused. ‘Adam the steward’s son? He is unwell?’
    ‘Who did you think I sat with, Aunt?’
    ‘Nicholas. You have not been up with him? Is no one with him?’
    Michaelo glanced up from his prayers, gave Lucie a sympathetic look.
    Phillippa had come to help Lucie nurse her first husband in his final illness. ‘Nicholas is long dead, Aunt. You are at Freythorpe Hadden. Daimon is your steward.’
    ‘Of course he is. I knew that,’ Phillippa snapped. She fussed with her crooked, wrinkled wimple.
    ‘Let us go to bed, Aunt. We have much to do tomorrow. Tildy will take care of Daimon tonight.’
    ‘She is a good girl, Tildy.’
    Phillippa’s calm smile bothered Lucie more than her confusion. Her aunt had been in charge of