Excerpt of The Lily and the Sword by Sara Bennett

Chapter One

Lily stood perfectly still, listening. She had ridden for
many days, skirting isolated farms and villages, holding
her breath at the edge of a wood when a group of men-at-
arms rode past. There was no route north that was safe,
and she had zigzagged across the country, doubling back
again and again, until she was exhausted.

Grimswade was directly in her path, and Lily had felt as
if it had been meant that she come here. Her father was
buried in this church, her mother beside him. If Lily was
to be forever exiled from England, this would be her final
goodbye. Determinedly, she made her way toward the western
door.

Before her loomed the familiar blunt tower of the church,
while faint candlelight caressed the arched windows. Was
Father Luc here, she wondered, his blue eyes bright with
kindness? The Grimswade priest was sympathetic to the
rebels, hating the king's wanton destruction. Father Luc
would hide Lily...help her.

The smell of woodsmoke drifted from the village beyond the
rise, and with it the occasional bark of a dog. Lily's
anxious gaze swept over the stony fields, and the narrow
road that ran between what remained of the corn. Her mare
was hidden among some wind-bent trees, a few yards from
the church.

The door opened to her touch.

Inside the church, tallow candles spat and smoked. Lily
paused, expecting any moment to see Father Luc bustling
toward her. The hem of her cloak brushed the floor,
stirring a faint scent of rosemary. Lily'sclothes were
stained with travel, and the inside lining of the cloak
had been tornduring her sojourn in the woods. A small
jeweled dagger, her only weapon, was strapped high on her
thigh beneath her red wool gown and linen chemise. A
bundle containing a few personal things was fastened to
her mare outside — all that was left of her previous life.

Lily took another step into the nave and felt the empty
silence about her. She was alone. Her slim shoulders
slumped. The priest wasn't there. There would be no warm
greeting, no offers of safety and gentle remembrances of
times long past, when lifewas good. Before the light was
snuffed out on her world.

Disappointment formed a lump in Lily's throat, but she
gulped it down with the cold air. This was no time for her
courage to fail her. So she was alone? She had been alone
before. So she was tired? She had been tired before. When
she was safe over the border in Scotland, she could rest.
Lily knew now that she should have gone when Vorgen was
killed. She should have realized then that all was lost,
that her lands would never be hers again. But she had
thought, hoped, that as long as she stayed in England, she
would have a chance of righting her evil husband's wrongs.
That shecould offer King William her allegiance through
Radulf, and he would listen to her tale of betrayal — how
Vorgen had betrayed William, then killed her father to
gain her lands. She'd hoped he would then leave her in
peace to rule her lands.

Foolishness!

Why had she thought Radulf would be different from Vorgen
or Hew? Radulf would never allow her to regain what was
hers! And he would never believe she could maintain peace
in the north. She was a woman, to be used and treated as
if of no account, while Radulf made war on her land, on
her people.

Lily paused before the altar, where her parents were
buried. Once she had thought to make a proper monument
there, extolling their virtues, but Vorgen had refused his
permission and so there was nothing to mark their passing.
Yet another reason for Lily to hate him.

Forcing her chaotic thoughts to the back of her mind, Lily
prepared to pray. She had just bowed her head when, from
outside the church, came the thud and rattle of horses.
The clatter of armored men.

Radulf?

Gray eyes wide, Lily ran to one of the arched windows.
Stretching up onto her toes, she peered out into the
darkness just as a shape galloped past. And then another.
A boy ran with a flaring torch. Its flame lit up a
nightmare scene of Norman foot soldiers and men on
horseback, the gleam reflecting their chain mail, shields,
and weapons.

She fell back, her blood pounding. Radulf! He had come for
her. She had heard the stories. He was a giant with a
hideous face and blood dripping from his sword. Children
screamed at the sound of his name. He would be, worse than
Vorgen, much worse! A barely human monster...

Lily tried to calm herself. Her hands clenched and
unclenched in her wool cloak. How did she know it was
Radulf? There were many Normans in Northumbria; small
bands of them had systematically destroyed large areas of
it. She must be brave and cunning. These men would not
know she was Vorgen's wife, how should they? Lily might be
any woman. A Norman Iady, perhaps, fleeing the English
even as Lily was fleeing the Normans.

And she could easily play the part of a Norman lady. For
two years she had been Vorgen's wife. She had sat at a
Norman table and watched how they lived and ate and
thought. She could speak French; these men would not guess
she was the woman they hunted.

The western door banged open.

Lily scrambled sideways and pinched out the nearest of the
betraying candles, then slid down behind one of the
pillars. If she was lucky, they would not find her, but if
they did... A fleeing Norman lady encountering a group of
armed men would naturally conceal herself.

A foot soldier came runningup the nave, breath wheezing,
feet shuffling. Behind him came another man, this one
holding a torch, the flames rearing up to show...