Read Online The Bishop Must Die by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Jecks
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curious thing that, after participating in such a crime, he could feel so at ease with himself.
Richard de Folville stood before the altar at his little church, staring at the crucifix. It was a simple cross of wood, but with a figure that was startlingly realistic, he now realised. He hadn’t seen a man dying violently before. To see Belers collapse so swiftly was oddly comforting, as though showing him that even the most evil men could be removed, and also proving that his own end need not be too terrifying. That was good, too.
The best part was the loss of fear. He had confronted his own worst horrors and come through. While struggling through the brambles, he had been anxious to get to the fight before it was over, and at the same time petrified that he might have to kill one of the men himself. The thought of blood on his hands was, before the actual killing, quite scary. But then he’d seen the dead lying about, and there was nothing to be afraid of – he realised that very quickly. God was not worried about these men. Belers was evil, and God was using the Folville brothers to punish him. It was only reasonable. The man had stolen, extorted, and thieved all his life. Just because he had been made the Treasurer, he thought he could live immune to any risks. Well, Richard and his brothers had proved to him that no man was above divine retribution.
He stared at his hands. Quite still. Perfectly calm. And his soul too felt serene, as though the blood falling on the ground wasenough to remove any stain from his soul. God could not have felt that he deserved punishment, for any man who was to receive such from Him would feel the weight of that judgement. And Richard felt perfectly content. Almost gay.
The sound of tramping boots came to him then; and he tore his attention away from the altar as three men-at-arms walked in. Their leader was a tall, grizzled man with a square face and sharp hazel eyes.
‘Rector? I’ve been sent to ask where your brothers are.’
‘Why?’
‘I think you know why. Sir Roger Belers is lying dead over at Kirby Bellers, and folks remember your brothers being near that place on the day. Eustace, Robert and Walter, your brothers, were all there – as were others. One was Ralph la Zouche and his brother Roger. Were you with them?’
‘I do not know where they are,’ Richard said. ‘I have not seen them for some days. Are you saying someone witnessed the murder?’
‘There are plenty saw your brothers and others on that road. And they say you might be holding some here. There are always places in churches where a man can be hidden.’
‘Perhaps so – but not in here. You realise that you have no right to come in here and search?’
‘We have been told to find these men.’
‘Then go and seek. But you will not search in here. This is God’s House.’
The older man sucked his cheek, and then his fist suddenly flew. It struck Richard high in his belly, and he fell back instantly, the breath knocked from him. Curled on the floor, he could not breathe, only gasp and struggle in agony. His stomach was a pit of torment. He was sure that he would be sick, then that he must surely die, and then, as the small pricks of light appeared before his eyes, suddenly a spasm went through his body, and he could feel the air in his lungs again. Coughing and retching, he rolled over to his knees, one hand on the floor before him, the other at his belly.
‘Yes, rector, you cough it up,’ the man said unsympathetically. ‘And while you do, we’ll look for medicine to cure you, eh? Go on, boys. Look everywhere. I’ll keep the rector company and make sure he doesn’t have another attack.’
Richard wiped his eyes and rocked back on his haunches, peering up at the man. ‘Why do that?’ he gasped thickly. ‘What have I done to you?’
‘Nothing to me. But your family is bad. Your brothers are murderers and thieves, and I think you are no better. I’d bet you know where they all are,
Richard de Folville stood before the altar at his little church, staring at the crucifix. It was a simple cross of wood, but with a figure that was startlingly realistic, he now realised. He hadn’t seen a man dying violently before. To see Belers collapse so swiftly was oddly comforting, as though showing him that even the most evil men could be removed, and also proving that his own end need not be too terrifying. That was good, too.
The best part was the loss of fear. He had confronted his own worst horrors and come through. While struggling through the brambles, he had been anxious to get to the fight before it was over, and at the same time petrified that he might have to kill one of the men himself. The thought of blood on his hands was, before the actual killing, quite scary. But then he’d seen the dead lying about, and there was nothing to be afraid of – he realised that very quickly. God was not worried about these men. Belers was evil, and God was using the Folville brothers to punish him. It was only reasonable. The man had stolen, extorted, and thieved all his life. Just because he had been made the Treasurer, he thought he could live immune to any risks. Well, Richard and his brothers had proved to him that no man was above divine retribution.
He stared at his hands. Quite still. Perfectly calm. And his soul too felt serene, as though the blood falling on the ground wasenough to remove any stain from his soul. God could not have felt that he deserved punishment, for any man who was to receive such from Him would feel the weight of that judgement. And Richard felt perfectly content. Almost gay.
The sound of tramping boots came to him then; and he tore his attention away from the altar as three men-at-arms walked in. Their leader was a tall, grizzled man with a square face and sharp hazel eyes.
‘Rector? I’ve been sent to ask where your brothers are.’
‘Why?’
‘I think you know why. Sir Roger Belers is lying dead over at Kirby Bellers, and folks remember your brothers being near that place on the day. Eustace, Robert and Walter, your brothers, were all there – as were others. One was Ralph la Zouche and his brother Roger. Were you with them?’
‘I do not know where they are,’ Richard said. ‘I have not seen them for some days. Are you saying someone witnessed the murder?’
‘There are plenty saw your brothers and others on that road. And they say you might be holding some here. There are always places in churches where a man can be hidden.’
‘Perhaps so – but not in here. You realise that you have no right to come in here and search?’
‘We have been told to find these men.’
‘Then go and seek. But you will not search in here. This is God’s House.’
The older man sucked his cheek, and then his fist suddenly flew. It struck Richard high in his belly, and he fell back instantly, the breath knocked from him. Curled on the floor, he could not breathe, only gasp and struggle in agony. His stomach was a pit of torment. He was sure that he would be sick, then that he must surely die, and then, as the small pricks of light appeared before his eyes, suddenly a spasm went through his body, and he could feel the air in his lungs again. Coughing and retching, he rolled over to his knees, one hand on the floor before him, the other at his belly.
‘Yes, rector, you cough it up,’ the man said unsympathetically. ‘And while you do, we’ll look for medicine to cure you, eh? Go on, boys. Look everywhere. I’ll keep the rector company and make sure he doesn’t have another attack.’
Richard wiped his eyes and rocked back on his haunches, peering up at the man. ‘Why do that?’ he gasped thickly. ‘What have I done to you?’
‘Nothing to me. But your family is bad. Your brothers are murderers and thieves, and I think you are no better. I’d bet you know where they all are,
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