< previous page page_246 next page >

Page 246
Chapter 18
Many thoughts had chased each other through Walter's mind as he lay abed, but prime among them was his suspicion of Sir Heribert. As often as he thrust the notion out and tried to concentrate on some idea more fruitful or more soothing, it returned. Finally, sighing at his own foolishness, he rose and sought out a long hunting knife, which he slid beneath the pillow, and he caught one side of the bed curtains under the mattress so that there was a little opening through which he could see. He knew that even if his suspicions were fact, rather than founded on prejudice, Sir Heribert would never dream of attacking him in a place where Heribert was the only stranger. Nonetheless, the knife was a comfort, a symbol of Walter's wariness.
The wariness followed him into sleep, into uneasy dreams that kept him floating near the edge of wakefulness. Thus, he stirred at the first click of the door latch in the antechamber. His hand was beneath the pillow grasping the knife before he was really awake, but as his eyes opened he saw the shadow slide in through the doorway to his bedchamber. It then passed out of the range of the opening in the bed curtains, but Walter knew it was moving forward toward the head of the bed. The bed curtain moved gently as a body came against it. Walter raised the knife.
In the next instant three things happened so fast that it was impossible to say which occurred first. A hand gripped the edge of the bed curtain, Sybelle's voice whispered ''Walter," and Walter just barely turned the point of the blade so that it slashed a long cut in the bed curtain rather than piercing Sybelle's breast.
"Walter!" Sybelle exclaimed, although her voice was still little more than a whisper.

 
< previous page page_246 next page >