Kemp: The Castle in the Marsh by Jonathan Lunn

Author:Jonathan Lunn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
Published: 2019-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Kemp woke to the sound of church bells and found himself lying in one of the cots in the pilgrims’ lodge at the abbey. The bells summoned the brethren to their prayers, though whether it was time for matins, prime or terce Kemp had no idea. Pressing a palm to his aching temple, he winced and sat up. Ieuan, snoring, occupied the other cot in the bay. Kemp’s mantle was draped over a ceiling beam to dry off. He took it down and pinned it about his shoulders before shaking Ieuan awake. Then he pulled aside the curtain over their bay. The open curtains of the other bays showed they were all unoccupied.

The hospitaller had set out several jugs of water, wash basins and towels. Kemp poured out some water and splashed his face to sluice the sleep from his eyes. ‘Where are Copeland’s men?’ he asked Ieuan.

‘Gone seeking Black Rab Nixon. Absalom Potts found some fresh tracks behind the brew house wall at first light and they rode out to follow them. With Copeland and his men out chasing Nixon, and the monks at prayer, now would be a perfect opportunity for us to find and steal that book.’

‘You know where the library is?’

‘Nay, but how long will it take to search the entire abbey? The library will be the room with all the books in it.’

‘Where would I be without your wisdom?’ Kemp asked with a mocking grin. ‘Do you read?’

‘You know I don’t.’

‘Neither do I. So of all the books in the library, how are we to know which is The Key of Solomon? We can do naught till Brother Pierre joins us.’

‘Let’s hope he’s on his way here, then.’

An hour before noon – the hour of dinner – they were making their way across the great courtyard to the pilgrims’ lodge when they encountered Lady Euphemia and Lady Arabella. ‘My lady?’ Kemp exclaimed in surprise. ‘What brings you to Melrose, when Sir Kenneth is at Roxburgh?’

‘My lord is not at Roxburgh.’ She wore her hair as if she had neglected to pin it back on one side, so it fell in a coppery cascade across one side of her face, and the more Kemp tried to look her in the eye, the more she averted her head with something more than maidenly modesty. ‘He is here.’ She gestured vaguely in the direction of the stables, and the motion parted the veil of hair long enough for Kemp to get a glimpse of the badly blacked eye she sought to conceal.

He clenched his fists. ‘Who did that to you?’

‘It is nothing,’ she said. ‘I bruise easily. I was clumsy. Come, Arabella.’ The two ladies made their way to the abbey guest house.

Kemp turned to Ieuan. ‘Did you see her face?’

‘Aye. Some brute’s walloped her.’

‘But who would do such a thing?’

‘In my experience, when a woman has bruises, ninety-nine times out of a hundred the husband is to blame. ’Tis his right, after all.’

‘You cannot tell me you approve!’

‘Approve has naught to do with it.

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