Page 16 of Winter’s Poison (The Winter Murders #1)

B ronwyn heard later that five hundred people in the city had died that afternoon on the river, overloading the boats. As they had been outside of the city, they’d met with other townspeople, now refugees, as Empress Maud’s armies had taken Lincoln.

They had learnt that King Stephen’s forces had gone out to face Maud’s armies, facing Robert of Gloucester’s men with Ranulf de Gernon, the Earl of Chester, and Welsh mercenaries they had hired and who were loyal to Maud.

To hear the men tell of it, they said these fighters had broken the king’s line of defense and some of the king’s knights had fled in the face of the bigger armies, deserting him at the most inopportune time. King Stephen had apparently borne an axe in the style of the kind Northmen carried and fought with that and his sword until both had been shattered in the fight, one after another.

Bronwyn had heard different accounts, one that he had been struck by a stone and fallen, another that he had been cornered by a knight and declared beaten. Either way, the accounts end the same way: Robert of Gloucester had ordered that King Stephen and his knights be taken prisoner, and the day had been won. King Stephen and those who followed him had been on the losing side.

Rupert’s master, Sir Baldwin de Clare, had been captured alongside the king, as well as his men, all of whom were taken prisoner.

Alone and yet crowded in a refugee camp outside the city, Bronwyn felt useless. Rupert was without a master, she had no family, and Alice didn’t stay at Bronwyn’s side for long.

Maud’s victorious army had sacked the city. Everything they could destroy, they’d ruined or burned. The people who’d remained had been put to the sword or killed in different ways. Bronwyn heard it said the men had taken pleasure in devising new ways to kill the city’s remaining few. She hoped that Odo and the potboys and cooks had survived, but part of her also wondered if perhaps it wouldn’t be a mercy if they hadn’t.

She, Alice, and Rupert joined the camp of refugees outside the city, mixed with Maud’s army. She joined the kitchen staff and spent the days cooking, cleaning, doing anything she could to survive.

Rupert got work amongst the men at arms and fighters at the camp, but his duties often took him elsewhere for periods of time. Alice, ever resourceful, found her way to Maud’s court and inserted herself amongst the ladies at the empress’s side. Bronwyn wanted to call her a traitor, but they both believed in their own side, so she supposed that they looked like traitors to each other. Bronwyn did not know what happened to the ladies and the queen still in the castle. She did not see Sir Nicholas, Alfred, Sir Gabriel, or Brother Bartholomew again.

It wasn’t until she spied a middle-aged, well-dressed woman urinating by a tree that she saw a man sneaking up on the woman with a sword. Without thinking, Bronwyn rushed and knocked him over, both crashing to the ground. The woman screamed, the man and Bronwyn fought, and she earned herself a few bruises and cuts, until the man shuddered and stopped.

She looked up. They were both at surrounded by guards and at spearpoint. She froze, and the man bled on her, for he had fallen on her dagger and now bled out. Another man dead, by her own hand. She shrieked and shifted away, shoving him, as blood stained her dress. Her eyes wide, she swallowed as one guard with a spear held it close to her throat.

“Back off, you’ll kill her,” the woman snapped. She stood and arranged her skirts, standing to her full height. She surveyed her with hard eyes. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m Bronwyn Blakenhale. I’m nobody.”

The woman wore a dark-crimson dress, and she had a veil and circlet over her hair and a thin belt to accentuate her waist. She was very finely dressed and stunningly beautiful. Her skin was clear and fair, her eyes sharp with intelligence. For a moment. Before she snorted and said in French-accented English, “I’ll be the judge of that. Your name. Welsh?”

“No, I’m English. But the name is.”

“Good name. The Welsh are good fighters.” She felt at her pockets but had no coin purse. Her face darkened. “What were you doing there? Were you spying on me?”

Bronwyn shook her head. “No. I saw the man start to sneak up on you. It looked like he was going to attack, so I jumped him.”

The guards exchanged uneasy looks. The woman shot them all an annoyed look. “That is what happens when you’re not alert.” She tossed a long, thick, light-brown braid over her shoulder. “God, I hate the outdoors. Give me a castle any day. You, Bronwyn Blakenhale. Come along. You’re with me.” She snapped her fingers and walked off.

Bronwyn watched her go and got to her feet. She asked one of the guards, “Uh, what?”

One glanced at the woman departing and said quietly, “You’re not nobody anymore, not now. That was the empress. You just saved her life.”

From that day onward, Bronwyn’s life changed.

The End