Read Online Blood Lance by Jeri Westerson - Free Book Online

be easier to find because of it.”
    “Or she,” said Jack.
    “What?”
    “She. You keep saying ‘he’ when you talk of the murderer. But haven’t we been acquainted enough with women who are devilish enough to do the deed?”
    He recognized Jack’s solemn expression but made no comment on it. “I see your point. I am always loath to first believe that a maiden is so capable of dealing death, but that is merely hope over experience. Very well, whosoever killed Master Grey has the object we seek. Find them and we find both relic and murderer.”
    “Aye, Master.”
    “But for now, a little sleep.” He eased down the wall to settle on his bed properly and Jack took the bowl away and pulled the blanket over him.
    Crispin drifted for a while, listening to the fire crackle and to Jack moving about the small room, splashing water into a pot, breaking sticks over his knee to add to the small fire, and humming tunelessly to himself.
    Crispin had just reached a state where he could easily fall asleep when all hell broke loose outside.
    He sat up, blinking. The woolliness in his head kept him immobile for a moment before he leaned over and opened the shutters. The blast of cold air took his breath away and caused his nose to run, but he wiped at it with his blanket and leaned out.
    The street erupted with men shouting. Men on horses trapped between the hordes tried to rein in their crazed mounts. Fistfights broke out in their midst and there was a general shoving and disorderliness that rankled Crispin’s senses.
    “Jack, go out and see what the problem is.”
    “Aye, sir.” He rushed for the door and grabbed his cloak from the peg.
    “Be careful, Jack.”
    Jack nodded, lifted the latch, and disappeared out the door. Crispin listened for the thud of his feet down the stairs and saw him join the melee a moment later. Jack was jumping to see over the heads of the rabble but he was soon being swept up in the tide, all heading toward Newgate. Crispin leaned farther out but Jack quickly disappeared. He hoped the boy would be all right.
    He lay back. He tried to relax, tried to sleep, but the noise and his worry over Jack would not allow it.
    “God’s blood!” Whipping the blanket away he threw his legs over the side of the bed, looking for his boots. He grabbed his belt with the dagger sheath still attached and secured it around his waist as he headed toward the door. He fastened the last few buttons on his cloak and grabbed the door latch when it suddenly swung open.
    Jack was breathing hard and was startled upon seeing Crispin in the doorway.
    “Master! Get back to bed at once.” Before Crispin could speak, the boy had grabbed him and was ushering him back to the bed. He twisted him around, unloosed his belt, and shoved him back. He fell onto his lumpy mattress.
    “Tucker! I am not a child!”
    “Who said you were.” He grasped Crispin’s ankle, nearly upending him, and yanked off one boot and then the other. “Now lie down.”
    “Tucker!” Crispin scrambled up onto his elbows. “What is going on?”
    Jack went to the door, peeled off his cloak, and hung it again on its peg. He shuffled to the fire and poked at it with an iron. “Well, it’s a right mess, that is certain. The king has sent out a proclamation that there is to be no French invasion after all, that all is well. So now the merchants are upset as no one is stockpiling anymore and the people are upset for spending money they did not have to. And then the talk fell, as it always does, on taxes. And when taxes are brought up, fights break out. Men have been shouting of the days of old King John and mayhap the barons need to tell the king what for as they did in the olden days.” He shook his head. “There’s some talk of the king’s chancellor, Michael de la Pole as well as Robert de Vere, but I do not know the nature of it. Did you know them, Master Crispin?”
    Crispin sat up, draping his wrists over his knees. “Yes, I knew