Read Online Come Twilight by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online

put down his brush long enough to do the same. “One who has traveled as much as you must have seen how speaking of Pox brings it upon the people. I should not have spoken of it had you not said you were bound for Gardingio Theudis’ estates. I will pray tonight that God will forgive my lapse and spare my monks.”
    “I thank you for the warning,” said Sanct’ Germain, his expression grave, for he had seen what the Great Pox could do more times than he liked to remember; he had also seen the cruel scars it left behind on those fortunate enough to recover from it. “I will consider what you have told me,” he assured Primor Ioanus, resuming his brushing of the mule. “Are my men-at-arms being fed?”
    “Yes. We have bread and baked cheese and a bean-and-rabbit stew. It will warm them and give them strength against the cold.” He coughed gently. “It will be a hard night.”
    “All the more reason for me to care of my animals,” said Sanct’ Germain, going into the next stall to start brushing another mule.
    “You will be hungry,” said Primor Ioanus.
    “I will bear it as well as I am able,” Sanct’ Germain said philosophically. He was ironically amused at his predicament, for he would find nothing to sustain him in this community of monks. “Tell me more about your half-brother.” He hoped his prompting was not too obvious.
    “He is a man of substance, highly regarded by all who know him,” said Primor Ioanus, his family pride tinged with envy. “He is a stalwart man, known for his strength. He maintains a suitable court; not so grand as some, but good enough to do him honor. He keeps a household of forty fighting men, and controls more than two hundred peasants. His estate is in the mountains, so he has not gained the fame that some have, but the holding is a Roman one, fortified, and it has served him well.”
    Sanct’ Germain heard him out as he worked, thinking that this Gardingio was probably a bully given to exploiting his dependents and abusing his inferiors, as most of his kind were inclined to do; with a fortified villa, he could live in safety while he preyed on the countryside he controlled. But, he asked himself, were any of the others much better? and knew the answer better than he liked. He paused in his brushing as he reached the mule’s flank. “If the other Gardingi are worried about travelers, why should I suppose your half-brother would receive me and my escort?”
    “A discerning question,” said the Primor, not quite smiling. “You would have to rely upon my powers of persuasion in the letter I am willing to write for you, and the honor of our family.” He waited a short while, then said mildly. “You need not decide yet. You will be kept here for at least one full day. Tell me if you want my aid before sunset tomorrow, after you have had time to rest and pray.” Without waiting for Sanct’ Germain’s reaction, he blessed the stable before he turned and left it.
    The monastery was almost silent by the time Sanct’ Germain left the stable; freezing rain was pelting down through the trees, driven by a demented wind. As he closed the stable door and put the bolt in place, Sanct’ Germain had the uneasy sensation he was being watched. He had pulled his paenula around his shoulders and was puzzling out where he should go when Rogerian came out of the travelers’ dormitory, an oil lamp shielded by his hand.
    “My master?” he said quietly.
    “Have they all gone to their beds?” Sanct’ Germain inquired. He moved into the small overhang of the doorway. “Wretched weather.”
    “That it is,” Rogerian agreed. “And likely to get worse.”
    Sanct’ Germain nodded. “Did the monks say anything about the Great Pox? The Primor told me it has broken out in the mountains ahead of us.”
    “Nothing,” said Rogerian, but there was a hesitation to his answer that kept Sanct’ Germain silent while Rogerian considered the question. “One of the monks did say it was more