01 - Murder in the Holy City Read Online Free PDF Page A

friend’s clear lack of interest, continued. “You say she had been out visiting her uncle, and she had only arrived back a few moments before she discovered the corpse. This means that she had walked across the city at the hottest time of day. She would have been sticky and tired. She said she drank wine and bathed her feet before going to rest. She must have been telling you the truth, because what woman admits to a man such personal details as washing her feet?
    “Now, imagine her wearily climbing the stairs, longing to lie down in the coolness of her sleeping chamber, and what does she see? A bloodied corpse on the floor! You are a soldier used to such things, but she is a young woman who is not. Her reaction would have been one of disbelief. She would have touched the body to make certain her long walk in the sun had not made her hallucinate, and she would have touched the dagger. She did not say she hoisted it from his back: that was an assumption you made with no evidence to support it. Perhaps the dagger was lying on the floor next to John. So, she picked it up from its bloody pool in horror at her discovery, and then fled outside. You heard her scream. She then flung the knife from her when she realized that she still held it after you began to question her.”
    Geoffrey eyed him thoughtfully. “The knife had disappeared when I thought to look for it later, which was unfortunate. If we had it, we could compare it to the dagger that killed Sir Guido.”
    “True. And if the woman you arrested is executed as a murderer, and another knight is killed, we will know that she was innocent.”
    “I am sure she will be pleased to hear it,” said Geoffrey dryly. “But it is none of our concern. The Patriarch’s clerks are investigating the matter now, and then the Advocate will decide what should be done with her when he returns.”
    “The Patriarch has a difficult task,” said Hugh with sudden seriousness. “He is here to wrest control of Jerusalem from the Advocate and hand it to the Pope. Meanwhile, the rioting of today underlines that the Greek Church bitterly resents the superiority of the Latin Church, and will rebel against it at every opportunity. Then there is the Latin Church itself—the Benedictines control the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but the Augustinians and Cistercians feel they should be in charge, and they petition the Patriarch about it constantly. Meanwhile, the Hospitallers, headed by your friend Edouard de Courrances, are supposed to care for sick pilgrims, but Courrances is as good a fighter as I have seen, and he parades around the city letting everyone know that he is more warrior than monk. And to top it all, the real enemy—the infidel—laughs at us as we fight among ourselves.”
    Geoffrey smiled. “True enough. To be honest, I wonder whether it is time to leave here, and be away from all this bickering.”
    “But you are in the employ of Tancred,” said Hugh. “How would he manage without you? You are his eyes and ears in this pit of intrigue.”
    Geoffrey looked at him in horror. “Is that what you think? That Tancred sees me as his spy?”
    Hugh made a dismissive gesture. “Not in a sinister way, but no one can deny you are useful to him. But you are right, Geoffrey. The time for soldiering is over: perhaps we should leave the city for the diplomats and politicians to haggle over.”
    “And kill for,” said Geoffrey. “Like John and Guido.”
    Hugh scrubbed at his smooth cheeks and stared into the fire. When he looked up again, Geoffrey was asleep, long legs stretched out comfortably, the flickering light making shadows of the etched lines about his mouth. Hugh leaned back in his chair and studied his friend’s soldierly features: brown hair cut short in Norman fashion, clean-shaven chin, and strong, long-fingered hands. He was about to rise and go to his own bed in a chamber on the floor above, when there was a sharp knock at the door.
    Geoffrey was on his feet with his