Prioress of Holystone."
He proffered Mother Rohese's letter. To his surprise, she cracked the
seal and read the letter like any clerk.
'I
must reward you, Sir Richard, for all your aid and trouble.'
'Prioress
Rohese deserves your thanks, Lady. As for me, I ask only one thing.'
'What?'
'Tell
me about the icon.'
It
was said to be a portrait of Christ's mother, she told him. It had
been found in an ancient monastery in Egypt by an infidel king, the
Emir Bahadur al-Munir, who gave it –in gratitude for the
sparing of his life –to the Lionheart, King Richard. Richard,
who valued nothing unless he could turn it to money to finance his
crusade, sold it to the Grand Master of the Sovereign Order of
Knights Templar. How it passed from his hands into those of his
great-nephew was not dwelt on, but the lord of Skelrig wanted his
sister to sell it for him; and she had a ready eager buyer.
'I
might outbid your buyer myself,' said Straccan, eating dates, 'if you
would name your price.'
'Are
you so rash, Sir, as to outbid the king?'
'Which
king?'
'The
Lord John, of course.'
'In
that case, probably not. It would be a reckless man who tried to
outdo His Grace in any matter.'
She
smiled and said nothing.
'The
Prioress of Holystone however is a formidable lady, and his
kinswoman. She might reck to outbid His Grace,' said Straccan. 'Would
you name a price for her?'
'I
would not. / am not his kinswoman, nor willing to incur his
displeasure,' she said. She leaned to pour him more wine and the
scent of her was heady indeed.
'I
doubt if even a king could be displeased with you, Lady,' Straccan
heard himself say, dazzled.
Riding
away again, with a letter from the lady in his saddlebag for the
prioress, he could not forget Julitta's face. It shone in his memory
all day, and when he stopped for the night he realised that the whole
day's long riding had passed unnoticed like a mere hour. He had left
his pouch on the table in her solar and she had come after him with
it herself, catching up with him at the gate; she took both his hands
in hers, surely she didn't farewell every messenger like that? Her
hands were cool and light, and at their touch he felt a little static
shock and a sudden rush of uncomfortably sharp desire.
In
the morning, after an explicit sensual dream which he found hard to
clear from his mind, he touched spurs lightly to his big bay's sides,
eventually shaking off the dream's sticky memory in the leaping
delight of hard riding. At Holystone before noon, he gave Julitta's
letter to Mother Rohese.
'A
proper gratitude,' she said. 'Properly expressed. She has made over
the revenues of her vineyard at Edgeley to the priory for a year.'
'I
hope that will comfort you for the loss of the portrait,' Straccan
said. 'I did my best for you but it's to go to the king.'
'Oh,
him,' said she, dismissing her brother with a shrug. 'I might have
guessed. It's said the lady is his very good friend.'
For
a moment Straccan didn't take her meaning, and then he did and was
conscious of a decided pang.
Chapter
10
The
first thing Gilla could remember was her mother holding her, walking
up and down and singing softly. She'd been plucked up from her cot,
screaming from a bad dream. Even now, years and years later, she
could still remember bits of the dream: running along narrow stone
passages, closing door after door behind her but knowing some awful
Thing was on her heels until in a tiny room behind the last door of
all she could go no further. Long bony brown fingers poked impossibly
through the keyhole, picking the wood of the door away like bread,
until a dreadful bark-skinned face leered through at her while the
gnarled and twiggy fingers crumbled more and more door away to make a
hole big enough for the witch to clamber through ...
Her
mother smelled of flowers and held her so safely nothing could hurt
her, nothing could ever get her as long as Mama was there. But then
Mama wasn't there any more, and
He proffered Mother Rohese's letter. To his surprise, she cracked the
seal and read the letter like any clerk.
'I
must reward you, Sir Richard, for all your aid and trouble.'
'Prioress
Rohese deserves your thanks, Lady. As for me, I ask only one thing.'
'What?'
'Tell
me about the icon.'
It
was said to be a portrait of Christ's mother, she told him. It had
been found in an ancient monastery in Egypt by an infidel king, the
Emir Bahadur al-Munir, who gave it –in gratitude for the
sparing of his life –to the Lionheart, King Richard. Richard,
who valued nothing unless he could turn it to money to finance his
crusade, sold it to the Grand Master of the Sovereign Order of
Knights Templar. How it passed from his hands into those of his
great-nephew was not dwelt on, but the lord of Skelrig wanted his
sister to sell it for him; and she had a ready eager buyer.
'I
might outbid your buyer myself,' said Straccan, eating dates, 'if you
would name your price.'
'Are
you so rash, Sir, as to outbid the king?'
'Which
king?'
'The
Lord John, of course.'
'In
that case, probably not. It would be a reckless man who tried to
outdo His Grace in any matter.'
She
smiled and said nothing.
'The
Prioress of Holystone however is a formidable lady, and his
kinswoman. She might reck to outbid His Grace,' said Straccan. 'Would
you name a price for her?'
'I
would not. / am not his kinswoman, nor willing to incur his
displeasure,' she said. She leaned to pour him more wine and the
scent of her was heady indeed.
'I
doubt if even a king could be displeased with you, Lady,' Straccan
heard himself say, dazzled.
Riding
away again, with a letter from the lady in his saddlebag for the
prioress, he could not forget Julitta's face. It shone in his memory
all day, and when he stopped for the night he realised that the whole
day's long riding had passed unnoticed like a mere hour. He had left
his pouch on the table in her solar and she had come after him with
it herself, catching up with him at the gate; she took both his hands
in hers, surely she didn't farewell every messenger like that? Her
hands were cool and light, and at their touch he felt a little static
shock and a sudden rush of uncomfortably sharp desire.
In
the morning, after an explicit sensual dream which he found hard to
clear from his mind, he touched spurs lightly to his big bay's sides,
eventually shaking off the dream's sticky memory in the leaping
delight of hard riding. At Holystone before noon, he gave Julitta's
letter to Mother Rohese.
'A
proper gratitude,' she said. 'Properly expressed. She has made over
the revenues of her vineyard at Edgeley to the priory for a year.'
'I
hope that will comfort you for the loss of the portrait,' Straccan
said. 'I did my best for you but it's to go to the king.'
'Oh,
him,' said she, dismissing her brother with a shrug. 'I might have
guessed. It's said the lady is his very good friend.'
For
a moment Straccan didn't take her meaning, and then he did and was
conscious of a decided pang.
Chapter
10
The
first thing Gilla could remember was her mother holding her, walking
up and down and singing softly. She'd been plucked up from her cot,
screaming from a bad dream. Even now, years and years later, she
could still remember bits of the dream: running along narrow stone
passages, closing door after door behind her but knowing some awful
Thing was on her heels until in a tiny room behind the last door of
all she could go no further. Long bony brown fingers poked impossibly
through the keyhole, picking the wood of the door away like bread,
until a dreadful bark-skinned face leered through at her while the
gnarled and twiggy fingers crumbled more and more door away to make a
hole big enough for the witch to clamber through ...
Her
mother smelled of flowers and held her so safely nothing could hurt
her, nothing could ever get her as long as Mama was there. But then
Mama wasn't there any more, and
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