Read Online The Reckoning - 3 by Sharon Kay Penman - Free Book Online Page A

by a sudden realization, that behind Bran's banter lurked a genuine concern. He might never admit it, but he'd been worried enough to investigate, to make certain his birthday gift had not done more harm than good. Hugh was enormously touched by this evidence of affection. No more than Bran, though, could he have acknowledged such emotion.
He sought, instead, to match Bran's playful mockery, saying with a bit of bravado, "Well, at least I shall have a right interesting sin to confess on the morrow!"
But that was not his true voice, flippancy not his style. He hesitated, losing his smile. "My lord ... I can confess and promise to repent. But . . . but what if I sin again? In all honesty, I suspect I will."
He looked so solemn and so trusting. Not for the first time, Bran wondered if he'd done Hugh a wrong by plucking him out of the peace of Evesham Abbey, putting him down in the midst of the de Montfort maelstrom. "Do not fret, lad.
Priests expect you to keep on sinning, do not care as long as you keep on confessing, too. In fact, I think they prefer it that way, for if there were no sinners, why would we need them?"
Hugh grinned; if he was tormented by remorse, he was hiding it extraordinarily well, and Bran had not been impressed by the boy's acting abilities. Picking up Hugh's hastily discarded belt, still holding a sheathed dagger and money pouch, he dropped it onto the foot of the bed, while fumbling for his own pouch. "When my brother Guy was fifteen, Harry and I took him to the Halfmoon, the best bawdy-house in Southwark. He always swore afterward that it was our fault he'd developed such a taste for carousing, claiming that if not for us, he'd likely have become a priest!" He laughed softly, then shook several coins onto the bed. "Un' altra volta per il ragazzo, signorina Serafina."
Even Hugh could follow that without translation. As the door closed
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quietly behind Bran, he shook his head regretfully, giving Serafina an apologetic smiie. "I doubt that I'm up to a third joust, lass," he began, miming a yawn to get his point across. But Serafina paid him no mind, and when she put her hand on his inner thigh, he discoveredto his own surprisethat mayhap he was not too tired, after all. It was only later that he remembered what Bran had said about his brothers, realized that this was the first time
Bran had mentioned Harry's name. It pleased fcim very much, for he could not help thinking that this was a sign of trlst, proof that Bran was coming to understand how absolute was his loyalty, a bond beyond breaking. Or so he believed on that Saturday afternoon in Siena's best whorehouse.
HUGH'S first glimpse of Viterbo was a disappointment. It was an important town, a papal residence, site of the current cardinals' conclave. But they, arrived at dusk, and all Hugh saw through the gusting rain were streets narrow as any maze, churned up with mud, and shuttered, overhanging buildings of dark tufa stone, black and wet and foreboding.
Viterbo was filled to capacity, struggling to accommodate the entourages of two Kings, and the cardinals assembled to elect a pope. But a cousin of one of
Count Ildebrandino's brothers-in-law had a palazzo close by the cathedral.
Lodging as many of their attendants as they could in the great hall, they managed to find beds for the rest in neighboring inns. It was a tedious, protracted process, though, for men who'd been riding all day in a steady downpour, and by the time they were settled in, tempers were raw and patience in scarce supply.
The palazzo cooks did their best to feed so many mouths, but the meatless
Lenten menu did nothing to raise rain-dampened spirits. In the fourth week of this somber season of fasting and self-denial, most of the men were heartily sick of fish, yearning for forbidden foods cooked with butter and milk and cheese. While their host was able to provide stewed eels and fresh pike for the Count, Guy, and the fortunates seated upon the dais, those at the lower tables had