Read Online The Marsh King's Daughter by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page B

slightest opportunity. On the occasions when Godefe was not in attendance, he was left to the tender mercies of Sister Margaret. She, it seemed, had not the slightest fear of being ravished - all she would have to do to render him hors de combat would be to sit on him - but her irritation at having a man in the infirmary was made known at every turn.
    One evening in late October, however, his fortune changed. Instead of the intimidated Godefe, or the intimidating infirmaress, Sister Miriel came to him with a bowl of ken broth and a bulky bundle tucked under her arm. A blue dusk had fallen outside. Her cheeks were flushed with cold and the keen smell of impending frost clung to her habit. Outside a bell was tolling in solemn, resounding strokes, but he was not aware of any religious office being due. 'King John has died,' she said as she gave him the broth and seated herself on the curule chair at his bedside. 'We heard the news not an hour ago from a merchant on his way to Lynn.'
    Nicholas dipped the horn spoon in the broth and stirred the surface, but he did not eat. He knew that he should feel triumphant, but strangely there was only a great numbness where emotion should be. He had hated and feared John for more than ten years, and it was impossible to let it go in an instant.
    'I am sorry, were you one of his men?' she asked with concern.
    Nicholas laughed grimly. 'One of his men,' he repeated and hook his head. 'Christ, if only you knew.' She rested her elbows on the bundle in her lap and leaned forward. 'If only I did.'
    Nicholas started to eat the broth; with his mouth full he could not answer.
    Her lips twitched. 'But you're not going to tell me, are you?'
     
    Nicholas swallowed and raised his eyes to meet the intelligent humour in hers. Keeping his own counsel had become second nature, the difference between life and death. Yet he sensed a kindred spirit in the young nun seated at his bedside, and she too had made the difference between his life and death. 'I wasn't one of John's men,' he said. 'It was pure mischance that I came to be travelling with the royal baggage train.'
    'You mean you were with them because of safety in numbers after all the trouble in Lincoln?'
    He drank some more broth and she watched him in waiting silence, her chin cupped in her hand.
    'I was one of the rebels causing the trouble at Lincoln,' he risked finally. 'They caught me trying to escape and brought me with them for interrogation. If John had realised that he had me in his possession, he would have strung me higher than the man in the moon.'
    Her eyes widened in shock. 'But why?'
    'Reasons,' he said grimly. 'My family is not the first to fall foul of John's dark nature.' He contemplated the spoon.' 'Actually John would not have cared how I died, just that it was quick and quiet.'
    She gave a delicate shudder. 'We used to hear tales in Lincoln and roundabout,' she said. 'He hanged some tiny children who were hostages in his care, and I remember a terrible tale about a woman he starved to death.'
    'That woman's knowledge is mine, and it was my father's too.' No longer hungry, he put the broth aside unfinished. 'He died while crossing the Narrow
     Sea. Both he and his ship vanished. No trace of him or the Peronnelle was ever found, yet he was an experienced sailor and navigator, and the night was as calm as glass.'
    'You are saying that he was killed?' Her eyes by now were huge.
    'How can I when there is only suspicion and no proof?' He waved his hand. 'I should not be speaking of this; it is too dangerous.'
    She sat upright in her chair and looked affronted. 'I won't' tell anyone.'
    'Mayhap not, but I am a rebel and even if John is dead, the war is not over. Word of my presence here is bound to leak out.'
    'But I am the only one who knows more about you than your name,' she said practically. 'And I won't say anything, I swear.' She clutched her wooden cross as she spoke.
    Nicholas smiled without humour. 'Like the law of the