Read Online The Sanctuary Seeker by Bernard Knight - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bernard Knight
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Mystery & Detective, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Police Procedural, Great Britain, Murder - Investigation - England, Coroners - England, Devon (England), Great Britain - History - Angevin period; 1154-1216, De Wolfe; John; Sir (Fictitious character)
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turn into a witch at midnight?
You’ve spent many an afternoon and evening enjoying my hospitality, John.’
‘They’ll all know where I am,’ he muttered.
But Nesta scoffed, ‘It’s no secret in Exeter, not even from your wife. So don’t concern yourself, let her stew until the morning. She’ll not petition the Pope for an annulment and lose being Madam Coroner for the county of Devon!’
Chapter 4,
In which the Crowner visits a lady,
then a corpse
In spite of his lethargy, Crowner John roused himself sufficiently to give a creditable performance in the arms of his agile mistress before he rolled over and fell sound asleep for the rest of the night.
Some hours before dawn Nesta was awakened by an urgent tapping on the rough boards of the bedroom door. The upper part of the timber hostelry was built out over the yard, under which were the kitchen and a shanty for the two servants. It was divided by a partition into one small chamber, where Nesta lived, and a larger room in which four crude beds and some palliasses on the floor provided accommodation for guests at the inn. This night, no one was staying at the Bush, so Nesta knew that the tapping could not be one of the guests wanting to creep into her bed, as sometimes happened.
She climbed out reluctantly from beneath the woollen blanket and sheepskins. Pulling her nightrobe tightly about her against the raw November morning, she stumbled in the gloom to the door and put her mouth to a crack in the planks.
‘Who is it?’
‘Edwin, missus. There’s a man here for the Crowner.’
‘Man? What man?’
Edwin shuffled outside the door and Nesta heard him mutter, ‘Gwyn, his officer, he says. Wants a word with Sir John.’
‘Wait there, will you?’
Sighing, Nesta groped her way back to the bed and shook John. The soldier in him rapidly threw off sleep and he stumbled to the door. Lifting the crude wooden bar that served as a latch, he stuck out his head and saw the figure of his man behind a flickering candle, old Edwin hovering nearby.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ grunted Gwyn, without the trace of a smirk or even a glance into the room where Nesta was again submerged under the bedclothes.
‘There’s been a killing and a wounding during the night. Two fellows have been seized by the sheriff’s men outside the Saracen.’
The Saracen was a rougher tavern than the Bush.
Though not far away on Stripcote Hill, it catered mostly for sailors from the quayside and drovers up from the country.
‘How did you know where I was?’ demanded John.
Gwyn shrugged. ‘Everyone knows where you are.
It’s no secret, nor anyone else’s business.’
John shivered, the chill seeping through the undershirt he wore in bed. ‘How long to first light?’
‘About two hours, by the cathedral bell.’
‘I’ll come to the castle at dawn. Is that where the corpse lies?’
‘It is - but the injured man is still at the tavern.
Eadred of Dawlish he is, in Exeter to sell his pigs at yesterday’s market. He may die, he may not,’ the Cornishman added philosophically.
‘I’ll be at the Saracen later. Gather enough men for a jury, anyone who was witness to the fight.’
Gwyn nodded and turned away.
‘And get that damned clerk out of bed. No reason for him to rest, if we’ve been roused.’
He slammed the door and dropped the bar into its slot. Slipping thankfully back under the bed-fleeces, he was immediately seized by a warm naked body: Nesta had peeled off her nightrobe while he had been talking to Gwyn. She pressed her lips against his and slid a sinuous hand up his thigh. ‘One good thing about being woken so early, John, we’ve time for another tumble before the day begins!’
Nesta climbed on top of him and rode him as energetically as he cantered his grey stallion. When they had first become lovers, her fondness for straddling him had rather offended his masculine need to be dominant. However, she had broken him of the habits of a lifetime
You’ve spent many an afternoon and evening enjoying my hospitality, John.’
‘They’ll all know where I am,’ he muttered.
But Nesta scoffed, ‘It’s no secret in Exeter, not even from your wife. So don’t concern yourself, let her stew until the morning. She’ll not petition the Pope for an annulment and lose being Madam Coroner for the county of Devon!’
Chapter 4,
In which the Crowner visits a lady,
then a corpse
In spite of his lethargy, Crowner John roused himself sufficiently to give a creditable performance in the arms of his agile mistress before he rolled over and fell sound asleep for the rest of the night.
Some hours before dawn Nesta was awakened by an urgent tapping on the rough boards of the bedroom door. The upper part of the timber hostelry was built out over the yard, under which were the kitchen and a shanty for the two servants. It was divided by a partition into one small chamber, where Nesta lived, and a larger room in which four crude beds and some palliasses on the floor provided accommodation for guests at the inn. This night, no one was staying at the Bush, so Nesta knew that the tapping could not be one of the guests wanting to creep into her bed, as sometimes happened.
She climbed out reluctantly from beneath the woollen blanket and sheepskins. Pulling her nightrobe tightly about her against the raw November morning, she stumbled in the gloom to the door and put her mouth to a crack in the planks.
‘Who is it?’
‘Edwin, missus. There’s a man here for the Crowner.’
‘Man? What man?’
Edwin shuffled outside the door and Nesta heard him mutter, ‘Gwyn, his officer, he says. Wants a word with Sir John.’
‘Wait there, will you?’
Sighing, Nesta groped her way back to the bed and shook John. The soldier in him rapidly threw off sleep and he stumbled to the door. Lifting the crude wooden bar that served as a latch, he stuck out his head and saw the figure of his man behind a flickering candle, old Edwin hovering nearby.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ grunted Gwyn, without the trace of a smirk or even a glance into the room where Nesta was again submerged under the bedclothes.
‘There’s been a killing and a wounding during the night. Two fellows have been seized by the sheriff’s men outside the Saracen.’
The Saracen was a rougher tavern than the Bush.
Though not far away on Stripcote Hill, it catered mostly for sailors from the quayside and drovers up from the country.
‘How did you know where I was?’ demanded John.
Gwyn shrugged. ‘Everyone knows where you are.
It’s no secret, nor anyone else’s business.’
John shivered, the chill seeping through the undershirt he wore in bed. ‘How long to first light?’
‘About two hours, by the cathedral bell.’
‘I’ll come to the castle at dawn. Is that where the corpse lies?’
‘It is - but the injured man is still at the tavern.
Eadred of Dawlish he is, in Exeter to sell his pigs at yesterday’s market. He may die, he may not,’ the Cornishman added philosophically.
‘I’ll be at the Saracen later. Gather enough men for a jury, anyone who was witness to the fight.’
Gwyn nodded and turned away.
‘And get that damned clerk out of bed. No reason for him to rest, if we’ve been roused.’
He slammed the door and dropped the bar into its slot. Slipping thankfully back under the bed-fleeces, he was immediately seized by a warm naked body: Nesta had peeled off her nightrobe while he had been talking to Gwyn. She pressed her lips against his and slid a sinuous hand up his thigh. ‘One good thing about being woken so early, John, we’ve time for another tumble before the day begins!’
Nesta climbed on top of him and rode him as energetically as he cantered his grey stallion. When they had first become lovers, her fondness for straddling him had rather offended his masculine need to be dominant. However, she had broken him of the habits of a lifetime
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