The Whispering of Bones by Judith Rock

Author:Judith Rock [Rock, Judith]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Historical, Literary
ISBN: 9781101623145
Google: TvsqKahMxYQC
Amazon: 042525366X
Barnesnoble: 042525366X
Goodreads: 17165604
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

When Charles and the students reached the postern, the carriage was parked a little way up the hill, in front of the church of St. Étienne des Grès. Frère Martin opened the postern wide, and Charles gathered the boys in the street passage for the short prayer that always ended an almsgiving. Replete with fresh air and the city’s sights and sounds, they joined heartily in the “amen.”

“That was well done, messieurs,” Charles said. “Put the baskets back in the porter’s room and then wait here.”

As the baskets were put away, Charles beckoned Martin closer to the postern. “Will you call a cubiculaire to see them to their chambers? I have another task, mon frère.”

“Ah,” Martin said knowingly. “I saw the carriage waiting when I opened the door. I know whose it is, too. God go with you both!” He lowered his voice. “Some are still saying it was a demon attacked you. Me, I know better. No one’s said they smelled sulphur in the chapel, and you always do smell it if a demon’s about.”

“So it’s said.” Charles smiled at him and hurried to the carriage. As he got in, La Reynie tapped his stick on the ceiling and the pair of black horses moved off toward the river.

“Where are we going?” Charles said.

“To the Lunel house across the river.”

La Reynie and Charles braced themselves as the coach bounced in and out of a pothole. Charles retrieved his hat from the floor.

“Have you been to The Saint’s Dog about the book cover?”

“Oh, yes,” the lieutenant-général said disgustedly. “We found an interesting selection of Dutch pornography. Including that scurrilous little piece about Madame de Maintenon and the king that keeps cropping up. Such a very upright woman can have had no idea what she was in for when she married King Louis.” He carefully brushed pastry crumbs from the cascade of ivory lace at his neck. “Forgive me,” he said. “No time for a proper dinner.”

Wondering how often La Reynie ever found time for a proper midday dinner, Charles said, “Did you find Le Cabinet in the bookshop?”

“We did not. Not so much as a torn page.”

“But the goat can’t have brought that scrap from outside. It would already have eaten it.”

“I agree. But damned if we could find it. We went through everything in the cellars, we had floorboards up, we went through the attic and out onto the roof. Not one single little Secret Instruction.”

“What did Madame Cheyne say?”

“She owned to the Dutch trash. What choice did she have? Pleaded her poor widowhood and having to make money any way she could, and on and on. But she swore on the name of every saint and relic she could think of that she didn’t have, had never had, had never even heard of Le Cabinet jesuitique.”

“And Mademoiselle Ebrard? What did she do?”

La Reynie grinned at him. “She’s not exactly pretty—wonderful eyes, though.” He laughed at Charles’s chilly expression. “Oh, come, nothing wrong with caring what becomes of the girl.

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