Read Online Faithful Dead by Alys Clare - Free Book Online

did as he was bade and a sharp, clean smell filled the air – ‘then pull up a stool and tell me why you have come.’
    ‘I came seeking the Prince,’ Josse said, settling himself on a wooden stool with a padded top, ‘but I am told he has gone to London.’
    ‘He has,’ the Magister agreed. ‘And why did you wish to see him?’ The penetrating dark eyes were fixed on Josse’s and he thought suddenly that it would be difficult to tell this man a lie. Fortunately, he wasn’t about to.
    ‘When you came to New Winnowlands, you sought news of a man, Galbertius Sidonius.’
    Josse wasn’t sure, but he thought a swift light shone in the depths of the Magister’s dark eyes. ‘Yes?’ the older man said coolly. ‘And do you bring such news?’
    ‘I do not,’ Josse admitted. ‘But I visited the Abbey at Hawkenlye to see if this man had been there, it being such an attraction of the area.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘The nuns and monks of the Abbey were in the midst of a tragedy. A man’s body had been discovered, victim of a brutal murder.’
    ‘This man’s identity?’ The voice came sharply.
    ‘Not known.’
    There was a pause. Then the Magister said, ‘How long had the body lain undiscovered?’
    ‘Five, six weeks.’
    ‘And so the man was unrecognisable.’
    ‘Aye.’
    Another pause, longer this time. The Magister’s eyes had become dull, as if his sight were turned inwards. Josse wondered if he was trying to decide what questions he could safely ask without giving away anything that he wanted to remain secret.
    Eventually he said, ‘Was this corpse that of an old man, did they think?’
    ‘No. A man perhaps in his twenties, probably no older than that.’
    The Magister said neutrally, ‘I see.’ What exactly he saw, clearly he was not going to reveal it to Josse.
    Which meant that Josse was going to have to ask. ‘This Galbertius Sidonius,’ he said, with more aggression that he had intended. ‘Was – is he a young man?’
    The Magister’s eyes turned towards him, staring at him for some time. Eventually he said, ‘No.’ There was a pause and, for a brief instant, an expression almost of wonder crossed the pale face. Then the Magister said softly, ‘Not young. Ancient .’
    Josse felt his heart sink. How he would have liked to return to the Abbess and tell her that the mystery was solved! But it had been a faint hope; all along, the likelihood had been that his mission would prove that the dead man was not Sidonius rather than that he was.
    The Magister spoke again; there was, Josse had noticed, a faint accent: Welsh? He said, still regarding Josse with those dark eyes, ‘You had reason to wish that your dead man was Galbertius Sidonius?’
    ‘Eh? No, not really.’ It was too difficult to explain about the Abbess, and wanting to help her by identifying the corpse, so he didn’t try. In fact, he said nothing further.
    But the Magister had not finished with him. ‘You know of this man, this Sidonius?’ he probed. ‘For all that you told my lord the Prince that you do not.’
    ‘No!’ Josse protested vehemently. ‘Believe me, sir, I do not!’
    A smile broke the pale, solemn face. ‘I do believe you,’ the Magister said. ‘I know when a man lies to me, and you, I see, speak true.’
    Staring hard at him – the levity in his voice as he had made the reply seemed to permit a certain relaxation in his approach – Josse thought that there was something familiar about the older man. He said, ‘Forgive me, Magister, but have we met before? Were you perhaps at court when the King and his brothers were lads, in the time of King Henry, their father?’
    ‘I was.’
    ‘They call you Magister,’ Josse pressed on, ‘but may I know your name?’
    ‘It is no secret,’ the older man said mildly. ‘My name is John Dee.’
    John Dee . . .
    The name, like the face, had a familiarity to it. Josse thought hard. Did he recall a man called Dee when he had attended the young princes? No. He did not