Three for a Letter by Mary Reed & Eric Mayer

Author:Mary Reed & Eric Mayer [Reed, Mary & Mayer, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, FICTION, Mystery & Detective, General
ISBN: 9781615951758
Google: 3-DfvfzT1jUC
Goodreads: 7495663
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2001-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Godomar made the sign of his religion as he entered Poppaea’s bedroom. It seemed to him that his moving hand was met with some slight, inexplicable resistance, as if the very air were ready to impede his mission, while the ecclesiastical stole draped ceremoniously over his shoulders and crossed over his chest felt as heavy as a wooden yoke.

“The Lord Chamberlain just departed with Bertrada,” Livia informed him. “He tried to question Poppaea but the demon within her insisted on answering him with the most terrible blasphemies.”

“Oh, Livia, she was just telling us about the party and Porphyrio,” Sunilda said sharply. The girl was standing by the head of her friend’s bed. “And now as you can see all that talking’s tired her out.”

She brushed a fine strand of hair away from Poppaea’s closed eyelids. Delicate veins, like fine blue stitchery, were visible in the girl’s linen-white skin.

Godomar stepped resolutely forward, convinced that he was in the presence of something evil. Yet was it any wonder, surrounded as they were by mechanical mockeries of the human form, not to mention constant talk of fortune-telling goats and pagan festivals?

“Please move aside, Sunilda,” he said sternly. “I have come to abjure the fiend that has taken up residence in Poppaea.”

Sunilda remained where she was and glowered at him.

“Please, Sunilda, Godomar must perform this ceremony.” Livia timidly laid her hand on Sunilda’s shoulder as she spoke.

The girl jerked away and glared. “I will not be touched in such a fashion by a mere servant! If I were queen such impudence would be worth your head!”

Livia burst into tears.

Godomar sidled up as close to Poppaea’s bed as he could manage. Sunilda made him uneasy. Who would put such awful words on the lips of a little girl? Or perhaps he should more accurately ask what would do so?

He bent over and laid his hand on Poppaea’s forehead. It felt as hot as if imbued with the fires of Hell. While Sunilda stood rigidly nearby, staring at him with what struck him as equally burning hatred, he murmured his adjuration, concluding more hastily than he had intended, “Leave this innocent one, in the name of He who suffered and died for all our sins.”

“Poppaea is only sick,” Sunilda remarked pointedly.

“I am doing what is necessary,” Godomar replied softly.

“You are doing it for yourself,” the girl replied.

Looking at her, Godomar had a sudden thought. “But as to you, Sunilda….”

Livia let out a ragged sob. “No! Not her as well!”

“It would be a wise precaution,” Godomar argued. “She is after all descended from a line of heretics and such flesh, although blameless itself, may yet be prone to demonic infection. One cannot be too careful.”

He took a swift step forward. As his fingertips reached the top her head, Sunilda gave a piercing shriek, grabbed his stole and yanked it with more strength than Godomar would have imagined it possible for an eight-year-old to possess.

He lurched forward and fell to the floor.

As she walked calmly from the room, Sunilda paused in the doorway to glance back at him.

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