History Tried to Forget Her - a Blog Tour and Book Excerpt for "Lady of Lincoln"

BOOK EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

The Barracks, Lincoln Castle, Lincoln, England, April 1168

Nicola coaxed a fragile flame from the hearth’s dying embers, the taper trembling in her grip. The air inside the barracks clung to her throat—thick with sweat, spilled ale, and damp straw. She raised the light. Its glow barely pierced the gloom stretching over the pallets sprawled out in uneven rows.

Her gaze locked on a solitary shape in the corner. It had to be Suardinc, his bed set apart from the others, half-swallowed in shadow, its young occupant curled against the stone wall as if trying to vanish.

She set her jaw. This couldn’t continue. She had to help.

The low drone of snoring and heavy breathing filled the air. Good. The taper hadn’t woken them. Lifting her skirts, she stepped between the beds, her boots silent on the straw-strewn floor.

A guttural snore cracked the stillness. Nicola gasped. The taper slipped from her hand, hit the straw, flared briefly, and died. The barracks plunged into darkness.

Heart pounding, she froze. The men didn’t stir. Their breathing continued, heavy and undisturbed.

Moonlight from a narrow window painted a pale path through the murk. She edged forwards and knelt beside the shadowed pallet. The boy lay with knees drawn to his chest. It was Suardinc. Her chest tightened. She couldn’t undo the others’ cruelty, but she could try to help.

She could still hear Miles’s taunt whilst the squires were at swordplay in the training yard: “Your father mistook you for a boy!” the older squire had mocked. “You can’t ride without holding onto the reins.” He bashed his wooden sword against the younger boy’s. “You can’t hold a lance… you’re nothing but a girl in men’s clothes!”

Suardinc had winced, his freckled face burning crimson. His footing faltered, and he sprawled in the mud. The other squires, and even some sergeants, laughed as Miles forced Suardinc’s submission.

Nicola had watched from the other side of the fence. Miles was twenty-one and full-grown, whereas Suardinc was thin, thirteen, and only just grown facial hair. Her hands had gripped her eating knife until her knuckles whitened. She couldn’t help feeling protective. She might only be a fourteen-year-old girl, dismissed as weak like Suardinc, but this was her father’s castle, and she had a duty to do best by these boys.

She lowered herself onto the edge of the pallet and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Wake up,” she whispered.

Suardinc jolted beneath the blanket. His eyes flashed open; wide and startled. “Lady Nicola?” he mumbled against her palm, voice thick with sleep.

She pulled her hand back and glanced around. No movement. “Thank God. I couldn’t be sure in the dark.”

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Two hours before dawn,” she corrected. “Keep your voice down. There are two horses saddled on the Lawn. The gate-ward has let out the bridge. We’re stepping up your training. Now.”

“Training? Now? With you?”