The Isle of Glass by Judith Tarr

Author:Judith Tarr [Tarr, Judith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval, ebook, Richard the Lionheart, Judith Tarr, fantasy, Historical, book view cafe, Isle of Glass
ISBN: 9781611381672
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2012-05-02T01:04:39+00:00

19

Alf burrowed in the box he shared with Jehan, searching amid their common belongings for the books he had brought from St. Ruan’s. They lay on the bottom, lovingly wrapped in leather: the five treasures he had kept out of all that he had gathered. He uncovered them carefully and separated one from the rest.

“Brother Alfred.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Reynaud stood in the doorway, smiling as he always smiled, without warmth; on the surface, all friendliness, and beneath, the eagerness of the hunting hound.

Alf took his time in setting the contents of the chest in order and in lowering the lid. When he turned, book in hand, Reynaud had come within arm’s reach.

The Pauline monk nodded at Alf’s habit. “Not hunting with the King today, Brother?”

“No,” Alf said. “I’m to wait on him when he comes back. Meanwhile”—He tucked the book under his arm—“I have leave to amuse myself.”

“Blessed freedom,” sighed Reynaud. “And you’ll do no more than read?”

Alf’s smile was a wintry likeness of Reynaud’s. “I’d rather read than hunt. I always find myself siding with the quarry.”

“Even the wild boar?”

“Why not? In the end he lies on the table with an apple in his jaws, no more or less dead than the stag or the coney.”

“But he gives a good account of himself before he dies.”

“You expect him to turn Christian and bare his breast to the spear?”

Reynaud spread his hands in surrender. “I can’t compete in words with a philosopher. My talents, such as they are, lie elsewhere.”

“And where,” Alf asked, “is that?”

He shrugged expressively. “In areas far from philosophy, or from serving kings. I preach God’s word in my poor way; I serve His servants; I go where He bids me.”

“So do we all.” Alf glanced significantly at the door. “Do you have duties, Brother?”

“Nothing pressing. The weather is splendid for once. Come and walk with me.”

Alf inhaled sharply. Danger always walked with Reynaud—surrounded him, wrapped him about. But that quiet request struck Alf like a blow to the vitals.

For an instant he had seen through the veiled eyes; had caught a flare of raw emotion. Hate and hope and burning excitement. The mind of the beast before it springs for the throat.

It had come. So soon. The trap was laid; the quarry had only to walk into it.

Alf relaxed with an effort. “My thanks, Brother, but I promised myself a quiet morning.”

Reynaud shook his head in reproof. “You'd mew yourself up in a cold library? For shame! Come out and let the sun warm you. Then you can go to your book with a clearer head.”

But Reynaud’s mind saw a barred cell and chains, and the stark shadow of the stake. Alf shrank from the horror of it.

Five days hence, Richard would depart for Gwynedd with a hundred knights at his back, and the Marches would burst into a fire of war.

Alf battled to still his trembling. His decision was long since made. Was he to retreat now, when it came to the crux?

He sighed and shrugged.

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