Read Online HAUNT OF MURDER, A by P. C. Doherty - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: P. C. Doherty
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only a brook which is now the moat, and a wooden palisade where Brythnoth camped before marching against the invaders.’ She shrugged. ‘Cerdic’s ghost comes here with the cross then disappears. So now you know, the treasure really exists. It lies somewhere near and Ralph could find it.’
The door to the keep flew open and Father Aylred came out. A silver and gold cloak hung from his shoulders and in his hands, covered by a white linen cloth, was the ciborium holding the Host. A boy from the castle carried a lighted candle before him.
‘It’s Father Aylred!’ Beatrice exclaimed. ‘He must be taking the viaticum to a member of the garrison who is sick. Father Aylred!’ she called but the priest walked on.
‘I must go.’ Clothilde’s voice was now a deep rasp. ‘I cannot stay here!’
Beatrice looked round but her companion had disappeared. Beatrice walked to the Lion Tower. Perhaps she should go up and see Ralph.
‘Christ be with you, Mistress Arrowner.’
The young man she had seen earlier in the night, with his fresh, cheerful face and spiky hair, was standing on the cobbles behind her.
‘Tarry awhile.’ He held his hands out.
‘Why should I?’ Beatrice noticed a silver disc hovering between her and the young man, then it disappeared.
He walked towards her. In the early morning light she could see that his face was a weather-beaten ruddy brown and his eyes were light blue. He was now dressed in a leather, sleeveless jerkin over a white cambric shirt, leggings of brown wool pushed into soft leather boots, a black belt round his slim waist. He drew closer. She noticed how fine his teeth were, how clean and neat he was.
‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why do you keep warning me to be careful?’
‘My name is Brother Antony.’
Beatrice smiled. ‘That’s the name of my favourite saint, Antony of Padua, the Franciscan. Aunt Catherine has a small statue of him.’
Brother Antony laughed. ‘Would you like to walk with me?’
‘But who are you? Another relic of this castle?’
Antony’s face grew grave. ‘It doesn’t matter who I am. What is really important, Beatrice, is who are you? It is important to realise that Ralph is still in great danger and so are you.’
‘But I am dead,’ she laughed. ‘I am beyond all pain and hurt.’
‘Death is not an end,’ Antony replied gravely. ‘It marks a new beginning. I have let you wander, now I must speak to you. I mean you well. I swear that on the wounds of Christ. Afterwards, it is up to you whether you heed my advice or not.’
‘Do you know who murdered me?’
Antony shook his head. ‘Only God knows that.’
‘Then why doesn’t God intervene?’
‘But God does, Beatrice. That’s why I’m here.’
‘How do I know that?’ she snapped, and as she spoke the castle yard changed again. Great gibbet posts rose up from the cobbles. They were about five yards high with three branches and from each bodies jerked and spluttered in their death spasms. The cruel knight was there again, seated on his black
war horse, watching. Women carrying children screamed and begged for mercy but the knight and his henchmen mocked them. The victims were hustled up the ladders, nooses placed round their necks, the ladders turned and more bodies danced in the air.
‘Come away! Come away!’ Antony was beside her. He smelt of sweet grass and herbs.
‘What is all this?’ Beatrice whispered.
But Antony was leading her away, talking soothingly to her. Soon they were out of the castle, walking towards Devil’s Spinney. Halfway there he stopped and sat down on the grass, gesturing at Beatrice to join him. He grasped her hands as Ralph would, rubbing them between his, watching her intently.
‘I do not know who killed you, Beatrice. The assassin really intended to slay Ralph your beloved. I know that. You are truly dead, Beatrice Arrowner. There is no going back. No return to the life you have left.’
‘And is this Heaven or Hell?’ Beatrice
The door to the keep flew open and Father Aylred came out. A silver and gold cloak hung from his shoulders and in his hands, covered by a white linen cloth, was the ciborium holding the Host. A boy from the castle carried a lighted candle before him.
‘It’s Father Aylred!’ Beatrice exclaimed. ‘He must be taking the viaticum to a member of the garrison who is sick. Father Aylred!’ she called but the priest walked on.
‘I must go.’ Clothilde’s voice was now a deep rasp. ‘I cannot stay here!’
Beatrice looked round but her companion had disappeared. Beatrice walked to the Lion Tower. Perhaps she should go up and see Ralph.
‘Christ be with you, Mistress Arrowner.’
The young man she had seen earlier in the night, with his fresh, cheerful face and spiky hair, was standing on the cobbles behind her.
‘Tarry awhile.’ He held his hands out.
‘Why should I?’ Beatrice noticed a silver disc hovering between her and the young man, then it disappeared.
He walked towards her. In the early morning light she could see that his face was a weather-beaten ruddy brown and his eyes were light blue. He was now dressed in a leather, sleeveless jerkin over a white cambric shirt, leggings of brown wool pushed into soft leather boots, a black belt round his slim waist. He drew closer. She noticed how fine his teeth were, how clean and neat he was.
‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Why do you keep warning me to be careful?’
‘My name is Brother Antony.’
Beatrice smiled. ‘That’s the name of my favourite saint, Antony of Padua, the Franciscan. Aunt Catherine has a small statue of him.’
Brother Antony laughed. ‘Would you like to walk with me?’
‘But who are you? Another relic of this castle?’
Antony’s face grew grave. ‘It doesn’t matter who I am. What is really important, Beatrice, is who are you? It is important to realise that Ralph is still in great danger and so are you.’
‘But I am dead,’ she laughed. ‘I am beyond all pain and hurt.’
‘Death is not an end,’ Antony replied gravely. ‘It marks a new beginning. I have let you wander, now I must speak to you. I mean you well. I swear that on the wounds of Christ. Afterwards, it is up to you whether you heed my advice or not.’
‘Do you know who murdered me?’
Antony shook his head. ‘Only God knows that.’
‘Then why doesn’t God intervene?’
‘But God does, Beatrice. That’s why I’m here.’
‘How do I know that?’ she snapped, and as she spoke the castle yard changed again. Great gibbet posts rose up from the cobbles. They were about five yards high with three branches and from each bodies jerked and spluttered in their death spasms. The cruel knight was there again, seated on his black
war horse, watching. Women carrying children screamed and begged for mercy but the knight and his henchmen mocked them. The victims were hustled up the ladders, nooses placed round their necks, the ladders turned and more bodies danced in the air.
‘Come away! Come away!’ Antony was beside her. He smelt of sweet grass and herbs.
‘What is all this?’ Beatrice whispered.
But Antony was leading her away, talking soothingly to her. Soon they were out of the castle, walking towards Devil’s Spinney. Halfway there he stopped and sat down on the grass, gesturing at Beatrice to join him. He grasped her hands as Ralph would, rubbing them between his, watching her intently.
‘I do not know who killed you, Beatrice. The assassin really intended to slay Ralph your beloved. I know that. You are truly dead, Beatrice Arrowner. There is no going back. No return to the life you have left.’
‘And is this Heaven or Hell?’ Beatrice
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