The Queen's Man: 1 by Penman Sharon

Author:Penman, Sharon [Penman, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781781857045
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2013-09-15T16:00:00+00:00

XI

February 1193

London

The dagger slashed the air, grazing Justin’s cheek. The next thrust would not miss – he was backed into a corner, with no weapon and nowhere to run. ‘No!’ With a hoarse cry, he jerked upright in the bed. His dream’s horror quickly faded, to be replaced by bewilderment. This was not his room at the alehouse. Where was he?

‘Glory to God Eternal!’ The voice was as unfamiliar as his surroundings. Someone was approaching the bed. The wavering flame of an oil lamp did nothing to resolve his puzzlement, for the face it revealed was a stranger’s. The woman was plump and matronly, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a grey braid swinging across her shoulder as she leaned over. ‘The doctor said you’d likely recover if you soon came to your senses, and bless you, lad, you have!’

No woman had ever smiled at Justin like this, as a mother might. ‘Who...?’ His mouth was dry and his tongue had trouble forming the words, but she seemed to understand.

‘I am Agnes, wife to Odo the barber. Lie still, lad, for you are safe here.’

Justin wanted to ask where ‘here’ was, but he was too groggy to keep the conversation going. He was not accustomed to using a pillow, and its seductive softness lulled him back into sleep within moments of closing his eyes. When he awoke again, he could see glimmerings of light through the chinks in the shutters and the woman tending to him was Nell.

As soon as he stirred, she hastened towards the bed. ‘How are you feeling? It was a right nasty crack on the head you took, which could’ve killed you as easily as that whoreson’s dagger. When you swooned away like that, it scared us enough to fetch a doctor, and then he scared us even more. He said a contusion of the skull ought to heal, but a contusion of the brain was almost always fatal, and all we could do was wait, that either you’d remain senseless till you died or you’d come around on your own.’

Nell at last paused for breath. ‘But when I told him that you’d be the one paying him for his services, that seemed to give him a greater interest in your recovery! He cleaned your wound with honey and then made up a yarrow poultice to stop the bleeding, and promised to come back today.’

Justin managed a flicker of a smile. Nell was tilting a cup to his lips and he swallowed without questioning or tasting, sure only that it was wet. His eyes were roaming the chamber as he drank. It still looked totally unfamiliar, although it did remind him of Aldith’s cottage. The walls were whitewashed, a fire burned in the hearth, and his bed was piled with clean, neatly mended coverlets. But there was an oddly empty feel to the place, a layering of dust, and the musty scent of vacancy. ‘Where am I, Nell?’

‘Did Agnes not tell you? This is Gunter’s cottage.’

None of this made sense to Justin.

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