Caught Red-Handed Read online

  Behind him, brush rustled and shifted. Unbelievably, the woman was rising. Even more impossibly, he listened to the regular rhythm of her footsteps through tall grass as she made her way down the hill.

  Frozen as he was, he couldn't see her until she was almost at the Street. Another chill worked its way down his spine. Although he'd heard her bone break, she walked in an easy stride.

  Without hesitation, she stepped up onto the roadway and into the ranks of the frozen men. The instant her back foot left the earth, the army burst into frantic motion. Horses galloped, men raised their shields. They shook their spears as they threw back their heads and howled their soundless battle cries. Those at the forefront disappeared a short way down the Street while yet more ghostly soldiers streamed out of the nothingness to make the same short race.

  And then they were gone. Faucon sucked in a deep breath, feeling as if he'd not filled his lungs throughout the whole experience. Lady Marianne tentatively stirred against him.

  "I couldn't move," she sighed, sagging in relief.

  "Ha!" Brother Edmund shouted, his mount shifting beneath him in surprise.

  Again, the monk shouted, "Ha!"

  Then Faucon's well-educated clerk stretched out his arms, threw back his head and offered a laugh that sounded like the cackle of a triumphant chicken. This from the man who thought he might have to kneel before a walking corpse and pray for heavenly intervention.

  Once again, Faucon sat in the chamber set aside for Nuneaton's male visitors, with its richly-curtained bed and strangely-constructed hearth. As he had the first time he'd visited here, he'd brought his stool close to the forefront of that strange hearthstone. This time, he hadn't needed an abbey maid to tell him to open the shutters on the narrow windows across the chamber so smoke would exit up the brick channel above the fire.

  Will sat to his right on the second stool. Alf was at Faucon's left, seated on the edge of the straw-stuffed pallet he'd use as a bed tonight. The long-legged Englishman had cocked a knee and braced his arm upon it as he stared into the flames. The chamber was warm enough that all three had stripped to their braies. Since then, none of them had said a word.

  As for Brother Edmund, the abbess had offered him the use of her private office as a bedchamber. He'd accepted eagerly, wanting both a prie-dieu and isolation from the women of the house. It also gave him the privacy to indulge himself in his overwhelming exhilaration over their experience, as expressed in uncontrolled outbursts of that cackling laughter that had marked their journey to Nuneaton. Faucon wondered if their Lord was being subjected to yet more of those outbursts.

  Beside him, Will drew a deep breath as if rising out of sleep. He shook himself, signaling that he would be the one to break their silence. He looked at Faucon. "Do you believe what the abbess told you? Can such an abhorrent creature exist?" Sudden and wicked amusement exploded in Faucon as the question brought by the entirety of what had just happened to them. Something that was as much a cough as a laugh escaped past his lips.Only Faucon had been allowed beyond this chamber and into the abbey, and then only because Marianne refused to release him at the gate. He had taken her to the abbess, who had pulled her free. At that point, the child became frantic, unable to calm until Faucon promised to ride directly to Blacklea and return with her lady mother on the morrow.

  Once the child had calmed, the abbess demanded an explanation. He hadn't given her the truth, not yet being comfortable with it in himself. Instead, he'd said only that the depraved nun had fled into the night and disappeared. That was when the abbess shared the true nature of the strange nun, doing so in the anger and frustration of being forced by her bishop to take such a creature into her house.

  "Will," he said to his brother, "how can you even ask that question after what we've just seen?" Another amused cough escaped him. Fearing he would soon begin to cackle like Edmund, he pressed on.

  "If we've seen Herla's army in their Wild Hunt, why can there not be a creature that is both male and female in one instant?" As he said that, Faucon's world once more came together, all the broken pieces Juliana's unwitting murder had created now finding their rightful place.

  He drew a steadying breath, and saw what had been hidden from him and was now revealed. His Lord had seen to it that Abbot Henry's summons had drawn him to where he'd been most needed, not by Mancetter, but by the Lady Marianne. And Faucon had recognized their Lord's hand, guiding the murdering nun into that ghostly army for her rightful punishment.

  It was a message, a sign, that he might not always see the scales balance, but balance they would. That was enough. Wicked amusement again bubbled up in him. He didn't try to swallow it this time. Instead, he threw back his head and let it free.

  Read the other books in the series

  I hope you've enjoyed my Medieval zombie story. If you did, please consider leaving a review.

  Let me say that this story took me by surprise. While I knew the Medievals believed that the dead walked, it was just something I knew. No story spark arose until I ran into a fascinating book: Afterlives by Nancy Mandeville Caciola. I started reading and, as has happened so often when I'm indulging in study, the characters and tale stepped out, fully formed. Of course, immediately after that I ran into an archeologist's report on bodies that showed evidence of having been exhumed and dismembered to prevent further walking on their part.

  Also, for the record, I know little to nothing about the Wild Hunt and Herla's army. I gave myself permission to extrapolate because, hey, ultimately I am a fiction writer. I know how to make stuff up even if I don't do it very often.

  Complaints, questions, praise? Please feel free to contact me at [email protected] or visit my website at denisedomning.com (but be prepared to be confronted by a farmer's life.)

  Medieval Mysteries

  Season of the Raven

  Season of the Fox

  Lost Innocents

  The Final Toll

  Caught Red-Handed

  The Seasons Series

  Winter's Heat

  Summer's Storm

  Spring's Fury

  Autumn's Flame

  A Love for All Seasons

  Or you can buy all five books at once as a box set: The Seasons Series

  The Children of Graistan

  Perfect Poison, a novella

  Awaken the Sleeping Heart

  The Lady Series, although two doesn't quite a series make. There were supposed to be more. Hmm, I wonder... .

  Lady in Waiting

  Lady in White, presently available in a box set with three other novels

  The Warrior Series

  The Warrior's Wife (previously The Warrior's Damsel)

  The Warrior's Maiden (previously My Lady's Temptation)

  The Warrior's Game

  My only Regency era book and my only Western.

  I'm afraid these are one-offs. These periods are just too modern for me. I'm better off back when guys just bashed each other with hunks of steel.

  Almost Perfect

  An Impetuous Season, a novella

  Monica Sarli's Memoir Men-ipulation

  And then there's Monica Sarli's memoir which I co-wrote. Men-ipulation is a memoir of addiction and recovery. After fifteen years abusing Cocaine, Crack and (her personal favorite) Heroin, Monica chose on August 4, 1986 to clean up and hasn't looked back-even though cleaning up cost her everything she valued in life. For anyone struggling with addiction or who loves someone suffering with addiction, this is a book you won't want to miss. (And, yes she really talks like that all the time.)

  These books include of number of Medieval terms that are likely to be unfamiliar to some people. This is a good start. If you find others as you read and your e-reader can't identify them, contact me and I'll add them to the list.

  Braies: A man's undergarment. Made from a single piece of linen that is tied around the waist with a cord. Worn more or less like a loin cloth but more voluminous so the garment can be arranged to cover the hips and thighs.


  Chausses: Stockings made of cloth (not knitted). Each leg ties onto the waist cord of the braies.

  Crowner: From the Latin Coronarius, meaning Servant of the Crown. The word eventually evolves into 'Coroner'

  Deodand: Derived from the deo dandum, meaning "to be given to God." An object is declared deodand if it is used to kill someone. The inquest jury is responsible for appraising the object's value and the owner is expected to pay a fine equal to that value. If the owner cannot pay, the hundred or village must pay in their stead. Theoretically, once the crown has taken possession of a deodand, it must sell it then use the profit for a religious or pious purpose.

  The Eyre: The justices in Eyre. The noblemen and Churchmen who serve the king as judges. These men travel from county to county, hearing the pleas of the Crown. Years can pass between appearances of the Eyre.

  Gambeson: A heavy padded, long-sleeved tunic usually hip length worn beneath a chain mail tunic

  Hemp: A soft, strong fiber plant with edible seeds. Hemp can be twisted into rope or woven for use in making everything from storage bags to mattress covers.

  Hundred: A geographic division of a county or shire. It likely once referred to an area capable of providing a hundred men at arms, or containing a hundred homes.

  The Marches: Generally, the border between England and Wales. It is heavily fortified and heavily contested in the 12th Century. The Norman barons who rule the Marches are often referred to as Marcher lords.

  Perry: Cider made with pears instead of apples.

  Pleas of the Crown: To plead for justice from the royal court, or representative of the court. Like going to your local police station and filing a complaint.

  Toft and Croft: The area of land on which a peasant's house sits. The croft, generally measuring seven hundred feet in length and forty in width. It was in the croft that a serf would grow their personal food staples, such as onions, garlic, turnips and other root crops, legumes and some grains.

  Withe: A thin, supple willow (but also hazel or ash) branch

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious, even those characters extrapolated from real people.

  Caught Red-Handed

  Copyright © Denise Domning 2019

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

  EDITED BY: Martha Stites and Kimberly Spina

  COVER ART: Denise Domning, Skeleton image © The British Library Board