Read Online Shields of Pride by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Ads: Link
go,’ Linnet choked. Her veil had been torn off in the struggle and her hair tumbled around her shoulders in two dishevelled fair-brown braids.
Joscelin stared at her in disbelief. Beaumont used the instant’s loss of concentration to lunge sideways, past the bed and out of the door.
‘Please, I beg you, let be!’ Linnet implored as Joscelin made to run after him. ‘Let him go!’
‘But he would have killed you, my lady!’ Joscelin said incredulously but, after a hesitation, sheathed his sword and helped her to her feet.
‘And I thank you for your concern but, as he said, it was a private matter.’
Joscelin shook his head in disbelief. Red fingerprints blotched her throat and there was a long graze where Beaumont had tried to tear off the leather cord she was now clutching. Joscelin suspected the key to the Montsorrel strongbox was sequestered upon it beneath gown and chemise. ‘My lady, I do not think it is,’ he said curtly.
Avoiding his gaze, she hastened to the bedside, knelt and took her husband’s hand. Her hoarse entreaties to the Virgin were drowned out by Giles’s rasping struggle for air. He stiffened, exhaled on a choking bubble of blood and did not draw another breath. As his body sagged against the mattress, Linnet bowed her head. Against the shutters the rain spattered in lieu of the tears she would never cry. She was free, unanchored and driving towards the point where she would smash on the rocks of her own guilt.
Leaning over her, Joscelin de Gael gently closed Giles’s staring eyes and told the maid to fetch the chaplain from his meal in the hall.
‘I assume he wanted the contents of the strongbox?’
‘Assume what you wish,’ she said tonelessly, adding, ‘He was Giles’s friend, not mine.’
‘Hubert de Beaumont is no one’s friend.’
Linnet looked over her shoulder and saw that he had gone to the curtain behind which Robert was asleep on his small rope-framed bed. Drawing the fabric slightly to one side, he looked down on her sleeping, vulnerable son, his expression inscrutable. Then he gently let the curtain fall back into place and gave his attention back to her. ‘I can see you object to my questions,’ he said, ‘but you will let me post a guard at the door and send word to the justiciar.’
His tone was courteous but it held authority and expectation of obedience. Since she had no reason to challenge him, she nodded. Her jaw started to chatter and suddenly she was frozen to the marrow.
He took her cloak from the back of a chair and draped it around her shoulders.
‘You need someone to stay with you, another woman of your own rank to help where your maid cannot. Do you know anyone?’
Linnet shook her head. ‘My husband did not permit me to meet with other men’s wives and sisters except on formal occasions when he had no choice.’ She grimaced. ‘I suppose the Countess of Leicester is my kinswoman after a fashion, but I would rather not turn to her for succour.’
‘No,’ he agreed wryly, his tone revealing that his opinion of Petronilla of Leicester differed little from her own. ‘I have an aunt in the city. She’s a widow herself and of excellent character.’
‘To be my jailer?’
His brows drew together. ‘I don’t blame you for being suspicious but it was truly an offer of comfort.’
The outer door swung open and the hissing sound of the rain followed the priest into the room. Linnet touched her bruised throat. She was as good as a prisoner already if a guard was to be set on the door. Another woman’s company would make her fears less overwhelming; there would not be so much time for her to brood on them and magnify them out of proportion.
The priest was brushing rain from his robes and bending over the corpse. Giles demanded her attention. There were rituals to observe for the sake of his soul and his body had to be washed and prepared for its final resting.
‘I apologize,’ she said to Joscelin. ‘Your aunt will be most welcome if
Joscelin stared at her in disbelief. Beaumont used the instant’s loss of concentration to lunge sideways, past the bed and out of the door.
‘Please, I beg you, let be!’ Linnet implored as Joscelin made to run after him. ‘Let him go!’
‘But he would have killed you, my lady!’ Joscelin said incredulously but, after a hesitation, sheathed his sword and helped her to her feet.
‘And I thank you for your concern but, as he said, it was a private matter.’
Joscelin shook his head in disbelief. Red fingerprints blotched her throat and there was a long graze where Beaumont had tried to tear off the leather cord she was now clutching. Joscelin suspected the key to the Montsorrel strongbox was sequestered upon it beneath gown and chemise. ‘My lady, I do not think it is,’ he said curtly.
Avoiding his gaze, she hastened to the bedside, knelt and took her husband’s hand. Her hoarse entreaties to the Virgin were drowned out by Giles’s rasping struggle for air. He stiffened, exhaled on a choking bubble of blood and did not draw another breath. As his body sagged against the mattress, Linnet bowed her head. Against the shutters the rain spattered in lieu of the tears she would never cry. She was free, unanchored and driving towards the point where she would smash on the rocks of her own guilt.
Leaning over her, Joscelin de Gael gently closed Giles’s staring eyes and told the maid to fetch the chaplain from his meal in the hall.
‘I assume he wanted the contents of the strongbox?’
‘Assume what you wish,’ she said tonelessly, adding, ‘He was Giles’s friend, not mine.’
‘Hubert de Beaumont is no one’s friend.’
Linnet looked over her shoulder and saw that he had gone to the curtain behind which Robert was asleep on his small rope-framed bed. Drawing the fabric slightly to one side, he looked down on her sleeping, vulnerable son, his expression inscrutable. Then he gently let the curtain fall back into place and gave his attention back to her. ‘I can see you object to my questions,’ he said, ‘but you will let me post a guard at the door and send word to the justiciar.’
His tone was courteous but it held authority and expectation of obedience. Since she had no reason to challenge him, she nodded. Her jaw started to chatter and suddenly she was frozen to the marrow.
He took her cloak from the back of a chair and draped it around her shoulders.
‘You need someone to stay with you, another woman of your own rank to help where your maid cannot. Do you know anyone?’
Linnet shook her head. ‘My husband did not permit me to meet with other men’s wives and sisters except on formal occasions when he had no choice.’ She grimaced. ‘I suppose the Countess of Leicester is my kinswoman after a fashion, but I would rather not turn to her for succour.’
‘No,’ he agreed wryly, his tone revealing that his opinion of Petronilla of Leicester differed little from her own. ‘I have an aunt in the city. She’s a widow herself and of excellent character.’
‘To be my jailer?’
His brows drew together. ‘I don’t blame you for being suspicious but it was truly an offer of comfort.’
The outer door swung open and the hissing sound of the rain followed the priest into the room. Linnet touched her bruised throat. She was as good as a prisoner already if a guard was to be set on the door. Another woman’s company would make her fears less overwhelming; there would not be so much time for her to brood on them and magnify them out of proportion.
The priest was brushing rain from his robes and bending over the corpse. Giles demanded her attention. There were rituals to observe for the sake of his soul and his body had to be washed and prepared for its final resting.
‘I apologize,’ she said to Joscelin. ‘Your aunt will be most welcome if
Similar Books
