The Jester (Medieval) by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2003-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 75

SHOUTS RANG OUT from behind me, deep male voices echoing in alarm.

I stormed ahead like some madman. Where was she? Anne! I had one single-minded desire: to hear the truth from her lips, even if I had to die for it.

Two guards from the stairs ran my way, their swords raised. I forced myself through a set of heavy doors and bolted them shut behind me. I ran deeper into the royal chambers. I had never been in here before.

I knew I would die here. At any moment I expected a blade to tear into my back, to see my own blood spilling out onto the floor. No matter. All that was important to me was to ask my lady, Why?

I stormed deeper into her quarters. The bedroom. An engraved wooden table with a washbasin, tapestries hung on the walls. A vast, draped oak bed, larger than I had ever seen.

But empty. No one was there.

“Goddamn you,” I shouted in frustration. “Why my family? Why us? Someone tell me!”

I stood there not knowing what to do next. I saw myself in my fool’s costume, blood spattered on my face. Why, why, why?

Suddenly a door opened beside me. I held my knife, expecting to face Anne, or one of her Tafur guards.

But it was neither.

For a moment, I felt as if I were back on the road to Treille, blinking out of the haze, and all the things that had happened since-Norcross, St. Cécile, Sophie’s death-were just figments of a dream, terrors that could be washed away with a soft word.

I stared at Emilie’s face.

She gasped, her eyes fastened on my blood-spattered clothes. “My God, what has happened to you?”

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