6 The Murderer's Tale by Frazer Margaret

Author:Frazer, Margaret [Frazer, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: __Fixed, _BIG_FIXUP, Britain, Convent, England, Fiction, good quality scan, Great Britain, Henry VI; 1422-1461, Historical, History, Medieval, Mystery & Detective, Nuns, Traditional British, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9780425154069
Google: xP7NfrdAb8sC
Amazon: 0425154068
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1996-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

They were finally come back to their chamber, the evening finished, the shutters closed over the window against the bane of night air. The room had not been meant for three people to share at once along with their servants and now that damned bitch for bad measure. If they all moved at once, they were in each other’s way more than they were out of it, but of course and inevitably Lionel had to be seen to first, the rest of them shoved aside the while.

Just now, for once, that suited Giles well enough. Sitting on a chest against the wall near the door, one leg drawn up to cross his arms on as he waited, he watched while Lionel was changed from his best gown to a rougher doublet, the servants seeing to warm water for him to wash face and hands in, bringing a clean towel for him, taking his belt and dagger to put away until tomorrow, waiting with his other shoes; Martyn changing, too, into a more serviceable doublet to see him through what was coming, all of them like so many idiot ants, not a full brain among them if they were all added together, not one of them able to make the smallest guess toward how useless everything they were doing was.

The lamps’ light had shoved the shadows back into the curtained depth of the bed and the room’s corners, so he had to control his face at that thought. It had brought laughter too close to the surface. He shivered a little, with nervousness, not fear, the nervousness of eagerness, and he enjoyed the feeling. What he wanted was so near now. All he had to do was wait while these fools went their fools’ ways, just as they always did when they knew an attack would come soon. See Lionel into rough clothing that would not come to grief with his groveling on the floor. Send him and Martyn off to whatever church or chapel was to hand. Leave them to pray for Lionel to be spared this time.

How long had Lionel been doing this, and still he could not grasp it was going to do him no good. He prayed and he prayed, and over and over, his prayers were ignored. Every time his demon came and was probably as amused by now as Giles was at Lionel’s useless attempts to be rid of it. Lionel was a fool. He’d be taken as he was always taken and sprawl out on the chapel floor with his grunting and spittle until it was over, when he could just as well go to bed and let it take him in comfort and more conveniently.

But where would be the glory for Martyn in that? No, Lionel would go to the chapel and Martyn would go with him, and they would kneel together, making their pointless prayers, and then Lionel would convulse and Martyn would tend to him, and afterward Lionel would be grateful and Martyn, the arrogant bastard, would go on living off of him.

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