Read Online Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery by Sharan Newman - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharan Newman
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to remain in Scotland forever?
“Land!”
There was a rush to the port side of the boat. Catherine craned her neck to see where they were all staring. Willa got up and, a moment later, came back to report.
“It looks just like the French side of the sea,” she said. “Dark pine trees almost down to the water. Rocks sticking out near the shore. Birds just like ours. I saw no sign of roads or people.”
From her tone, Catherine realized that she had been hoping for something altogether alien. Willa was still child enough to hope that a new country would have more magic than her own. Dragons or unicorns, it wouldn’t much matter to her. But a new country should have its own mystery, not be a mirror of home.
Solomon came and sat beside them.
“I was hoping we’d see little men, painted blue, dancing on the rocks,” he said.
Willa’s eyes grew wide.
“Wood demons?” she asked.
Catherine answered before Solomon could embroider the tale.
“No, just men,” she told the girl firmly. “Picts, they’re called. And I don’t think they live on this side of Scotland. If there are even any left. Edgar says Saxons have been living in this area for generations now.”
“Then perhaps we’ll see some Saxon elves?” Willa wasn’t ready to release her fantasy.
Catherine realized that this country, so frightening to her, was like a living jongleur ’s tale to Willa. There might be monsters, but there would also be heroes. And God saw to it that heroes always won. Who was she to destroy someone’s else’s faith?
“We might,” she told Willa. “We’ll both keep watch for them.”
Edgar had no hope of magic. As they drew nearer to the coastline, all he felt was dread. Somewhere on that soil the men who had killed his brothers and nephew lived in freedom. Part of him wanted to leave the matter to divine justice, as his early clerical training had dictated. But another side was surfacing. It astonished him that all the years of contented exile in France were slipping away, leaving him exposed
to feelings he thought he’d cast out. He hadn’t much cared for his family, but someone wanted to destroy them and that meant they wanted to destroy him, too.
How far would this reach? How many generations did the hatred last? Edgar thought of Catherine, lying miserably in the shelter of the tarp, and James happily watching the clouds sail by. Hubert had reminded him that he had taken on the enemies of her family when he married Catherine. He hadn’t considered that she had done the same. The realization chilled him. If anyone tried to harm his family …
Edgar stopped himself. All the years of cathedral training fell away, and he knew that if Catherine or James were in danger, he could slaughter those who seeked to harm them and do it gladly.
Four
Durham, outside the bishop’s castle. Monday, 18 kalends July (June 14),
1143. Feast of Saint Basil the Archbishop.
Anno MCXLIII: Rogerus, Prior Dunelmensis, et Ranulfus archidiconus,
directa legatione ad Apostolicum, ei afflictiones ecclesiœ Dunelmi
exposuere. Cujus auctoritate freti, convocaverunt ad se apud Eboracum in
capella Sancti Andreœ, … paucos de personis diocesis Dunelmensis, quos
vix habere poterant propter persecutionem Willelmi Cumin, in media
Quadragesima. Consenserunt ergo omnes in electione Willelmi decani
Eboracensis, qui in diebus cuidam concilio apud Lundoniam intererat.
1143: Roger, Prior of Durham and Ranulf, archdeacon, on a direct
mission from the Pope, revealed to him the afflictions of the church
of Durham. Fortified by his authority, they convened a few people
from the diocese of Durham in the chapel of Saint-Andrew at York in
the middle of Lent, … who were barely able to attend because of the
persecution of William Cumin. Therefore, all agreed on the election
of William [Ste. Barbe] a deacon of York, who was at that time
attending a meeting in London.
—The Chronicle of John, Prior of Hexham
U
“Land!”
There was a rush to the port side of the boat. Catherine craned her neck to see where they were all staring. Willa got up and, a moment later, came back to report.
“It looks just like the French side of the sea,” she said. “Dark pine trees almost down to the water. Rocks sticking out near the shore. Birds just like ours. I saw no sign of roads or people.”
From her tone, Catherine realized that she had been hoping for something altogether alien. Willa was still child enough to hope that a new country would have more magic than her own. Dragons or unicorns, it wouldn’t much matter to her. But a new country should have its own mystery, not be a mirror of home.
Solomon came and sat beside them.
“I was hoping we’d see little men, painted blue, dancing on the rocks,” he said.
Willa’s eyes grew wide.
“Wood demons?” she asked.
Catherine answered before Solomon could embroider the tale.
“No, just men,” she told the girl firmly. “Picts, they’re called. And I don’t think they live on this side of Scotland. If there are even any left. Edgar says Saxons have been living in this area for generations now.”
“Then perhaps we’ll see some Saxon elves?” Willa wasn’t ready to release her fantasy.
Catherine realized that this country, so frightening to her, was like a living jongleur ’s tale to Willa. There might be monsters, but there would also be heroes. And God saw to it that heroes always won. Who was she to destroy someone’s else’s faith?
“We might,” she told Willa. “We’ll both keep watch for them.”
Edgar had no hope of magic. As they drew nearer to the coastline, all he felt was dread. Somewhere on that soil the men who had killed his brothers and nephew lived in freedom. Part of him wanted to leave the matter to divine justice, as his early clerical training had dictated. But another side was surfacing. It astonished him that all the years of contented exile in France were slipping away, leaving him exposed
to feelings he thought he’d cast out. He hadn’t much cared for his family, but someone wanted to destroy them and that meant they wanted to destroy him, too.
How far would this reach? How many generations did the hatred last? Edgar thought of Catherine, lying miserably in the shelter of the tarp, and James happily watching the clouds sail by. Hubert had reminded him that he had taken on the enemies of her family when he married Catherine. He hadn’t considered that she had done the same. The realization chilled him. If anyone tried to harm his family …
Edgar stopped himself. All the years of cathedral training fell away, and he knew that if Catherine or James were in danger, he could slaughter those who seeked to harm them and do it gladly.
Four
Durham, outside the bishop’s castle. Monday, 18 kalends July (June 14),
1143. Feast of Saint Basil the Archbishop.
Anno MCXLIII: Rogerus, Prior Dunelmensis, et Ranulfus archidiconus,
directa legatione ad Apostolicum, ei afflictiones ecclesiœ Dunelmi
exposuere. Cujus auctoritate freti, convocaverunt ad se apud Eboracum in
capella Sancti Andreœ, … paucos de personis diocesis Dunelmensis, quos
vix habere poterant propter persecutionem Willelmi Cumin, in media
Quadragesima. Consenserunt ergo omnes in electione Willelmi decani
Eboracensis, qui in diebus cuidam concilio apud Lundoniam intererat.
1143: Roger, Prior of Durham and Ranulf, archdeacon, on a direct
mission from the Pope, revealed to him the afflictions of the church
of Durham. Fortified by his authority, they convened a few people
from the diocese of Durham in the chapel of Saint-Andrew at York in
the middle of Lent, … who were barely able to attend because of the
persecution of William Cumin. Therefore, all agreed on the election
of William [Ste. Barbe] a deacon of York, who was at that time
attending a meeting in London.
—The Chronicle of John, Prior of Hexham
U
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