Free The Scourge (Kindle Serial) by Roberto Calas

me down a staircase and I am thrown into a small, cold chamber.
    I batter the door with my shoulder. I fill the air with screams and curses. I don’t know how long I pound upon that oaken door. I know only that I become aware of a droning sound at my side. My vision clears slowly. The drone becomes words.
    “…couldde feat the French all by yourself.” It is Tristan. He is beside me.
    Morgan is on my other side. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
    I slump to the floor, brace myself with a trembling arm. I take a deep breath. Then another. I continue taking breaths until the tremors in my body cease.
    Sir Morgan asks again, quietly. “Are you hurt, Ed?”
    I look to him and try to smile. “I may not have handled that well.”
    Tristan laughs. “Not true. You couldn’t have handled it better.”
    We sit against the rough stone wall of the cell. Torchlight flickers through the barred window, making shadows dance across the cobbled floor.
    “Edward,” Morgan says, “I’m confused about your plan. Who do you know in Essex that owes you a favor?”
    “Lord David,” I say.
    “Lord David?” he asks.
    The door opens and two men aim crossbows at us. I am tired of having crossbows aimed at me. Sir John steps into the room, and I fight down the red haze.
    “A king must know how to motivate his men. I am sorry it had to come to that, but if you cannot trust me enough to share all of your information, then how can I trust you? I have given you motivation. So now I can trust you. You will be behind the French army at dawn or I will kill the three of you, and I will make certain, Sir Edward, that your wife dies.” He darts backward, and my hurled boot hits the closing door.

Chapter 13

    Sir Gerald releases us from our cell an hour later. The tall knight holds a warning finger to us as we leave the castle.
    “Dawn,” he says. “You know what happens if you disappoint us.”
    I spot a faded flowerpot hanging outside the castle gate and take it down before replying. “Yes,” I say. “All of you die.”
    We ride westward in the night, our horses trotting back along the old Roman road. The hanging flowerpot bounces against the saddle as I ride. I pray that my plan is not as idiotic as it now seems.
    Sir Morgan shakes his head. “This Lord David,” he says. “He lives nearby?”
    I nod. I don’t feel much like talking. Elizabeth is in my thoughts. I remember her long fingers winding thread into a ball. She is smiling at me. A lock of her golden hair falls over one eye.
    “Sir Morgan,” Tristan says, “you don’t remember Lord David?”
    “I have never met anyone named Lord David.”
    “Of course you have,” Tristan says. “You met him in Corringham yesterday.”
    Sir Morgan’s frown lasts a hundred yards before the truth settles upon him.
    “No!” His eyes are wide in the faint moonlight. “We aren’t!”
    “Oh yes,” Tristan says. “We most certainly are.” He mimics Sir Gerald’s deep voice. “In these times of madness, Sir Morgan, only madness will save us.”
    We stop at a marshy field that runs wild with spiky purple flowers. Elizabeth used to plant these in our garden even though they are wild and common. She loves them. Who am I to tell her what belongs in a garden?
    I ask Tristan and Morgan to gather up as many of the plants as they can. We stuff them into the flowerpot and mix in dry grasses. Then we ride into Corringham.
    I pray that the plaguers are still locked inside the mill house belonging to David Lords. It would please me to see Sir John lying in his own intestines, but I have two good reasons to wish him success. When the French are gone and Elizabeth is safe again, I will see what I can do about the young knight’s intestines. And I might have a look at Sir Gerald’s as well.
    We reach the mill house and hear nothing from inside. My knights look at me, and I try not to let my anxiety show. Sir Tristan rattles the lock, and a chorus of moans and hisses rises from within. It sounds like