Read Online The Riddle of St Leonard's by Candace Robb - Free Book Online

tightly, as if someone had washed it the night before, and the singed ends had been trimmed away. That was commendable. Smoke was impossible to get out of hair any other way. A woman cried out in a bed tucked away somewhere in the forest of partitions. A dark-robed sister hurried past, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Did they sleep on their watches? Bess did not like to think that. Nor did she approve of the cobwebs in the rafters or the strong scent of urine and sweat all about, though her uncle’s bed and person smelled fresh. Once, as she’d kept her vigil, Bess had caught Don Cuthbert in the doorway and had sent him off with a hissed ‘Can you not see he is sleeping?’ Perhaps it would be best to take her uncle from here, let him recover at the York Tavern. She had an extra bedchamber for kin up above, across from her own. He would be quite comfortable there.
    Julian Taverner rocked his head back and forth on the pillow in sleep, then woke with a groan, clutching his neck with a bandaged hand. His eyes were red. He blinked, trying to focus on Bess. ‘Honoria?’
    ‘Nay, ’tis only your niece, Bess.’ Honoria indeed.
    Don Erkenwald poked his head through the doorway. ‘God go with you, Master Taverner, Mistress Merchet. May I come in?’
    Bess liked the solid bulk of the canon, and his courtesy. But she preferred to speak to her uncle alone. ‘I do not mean to be discourteous, but we have had no chance to speak since the fire. I hoped to have some private speech with my uncle.’
    Julian, his eyes still slightly unfocused from sleep, was fumbling with his bandaged hands. ‘I cannot feel with all this wrapping. Is there still a cloth over the wound at the back of my head, niece?’
    Bess straightened. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of a head wound, uncle.’
    Erkenwald stepped closer. ‘That wound is of interest to me.’
    ‘Oh aye? You are the first to care,’ Julian said, his tone petulant.
    Bess leaned over her uncle. ‘There is still a cloth round your head. Let me see the wound, uncle.’
    ‘’Tis enough to feel it.’ Julian guided Bess’s fingers to a considerable knot on the base of his skull.
    ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God! How did this happen?’
    ‘It bled so, I thought it would kill me,’ Julian said.
    ‘I see that you have suffered indeed, uncle. Answer me now – how did this happen?’
    ‘I was attacked from behind as I bent to drag poor Laurence from the burning house.’
    ‘No one told me of an attack.’
    Erkenwald leaned close, felt the wound. ‘Who hit you?’
    Julian closed his eyes and dropped his head back on the pillow, wincing as the knot compressed. ‘If I knew that, I would not be lying here.’
    Bess crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Oh? You would be steady on your feet and clear in your head? How would your burned hands feel as they met his jaw?’ She shook her head. ‘I am decided now. You will come home with me.’
    ‘Nonsense.’
    ‘It will take no time to prepare.’ Her mind full of her plans, Bess did not notice her uncle’s wet cheeks, the moisture seeping from beneath his closed lids, until he gulped, suppressing a sob. ‘Uncle?’
    Erkenwald had retreated to a bench away from the bed.
    Julian swiped at his eyes with a bandaged hand, cursed. Bess knelt on the bed, dabbed his eyes with a cloth. ‘What is this, uncle?’
    Julian batted her away. ‘I could not save him. The murderer was too quick.’
    Bess’s hand paused over her uncle. ‘Murderer? I thought the fire an accident.’
    Julian glared at her as best he could through his red eyes. ‘Of course it was no accident, you foolish woman.’
    Foolish? And she had thought to take him home, the ungrateful man. But his certainty was disturbing. She settled down next to him. ‘Tell me what happened, uncle.’
    ‘You’ll not listen.’
    ‘I am not such an idle person to ask for what I do not wish to hear.’
    Julian looked uncertain, but he said, ‘Fix my pillows so I might sit up and speak with