A Killing Season Read Online Free PDF Page B

Satan better than any imp. Thomas did try not to be one of them.
    “Approach the altar and honor the cross on which God’s son was crucified.”
    He accomplished that in three steps, then knelt, crossed himself, and clearly recited a prayer.
    “What is your name?”
    “Brother Thomas of the Order of Fontevraud. I have learned of your brother’s death and bring God’s consolation for the grief you suffer.”
    “Remain where you are.” A man pulled himself up by the side of the altar. Clutching the stone as if unable to stand otherwise, he peered without blinking at the monk.
    “And you are called Umfrey ?”
    The man grunted in response, then squeezed his thin body through the narrow space until he got to the front of the altar. Sliding into a crouch on the floor, his right hand reached back to touch the stone as if seeking reassurance that he still had God’s protection.
    “How did you know where I was?” With only a couple of feet separating the two men, the son’s musty sweat was rank and potent.
    “I learned that you had come to pray for your brother’s soul.” A small lie but a kind one, Thomas thought. The man mending the harness in the bailey had called Umfrey a coward, hiding in a chapel when he should have taken a sword to do battle with Satan’s army. Whether the son had come here out of fear or devotion, the monk knew he must be pleading to God for something while he was in His sanctuary.
    Baron Herbert’s current heir whimpered.
    “The prayers of two men are stronger than those of one.”
    “If this family is to escape the Devil’s grip, we shall need all of England to kneel on our behalf!”
    “You believe the Prince of Darkness has chosen your family for special torment?”
    “Satan has most certainly taken residence here since my father’s return.”
    Did Umfrey believe the baron had brought the Evil One with him? That would be an unusual accusation against a man who had taken the cross, Thomas thought. “Why conclude such a thing?” The answer, he hoped, would be illuminating.
    “The last honest death in this place, Brother, was that of our eldest brother who died of a winter fever when my father was in Acre.” Umfrey began rubbing the altar with the back of his outstretched hand. “After our father’s return, my third oldest brother drowned. Some say that Roger’s death was an accident. Others whisper self-murder, but I don’t agree with that. Now the second son, Gervase, has fallen from a window, shouting that he could fly.” He snorted. “Fly like some bird? Would it not be unnatural for a man to emulate a soulless creature? God would never allow such a thing. The Devil must have promised it. Surely you would agree, even though you know nothing of us?”
    “I might well.” Thomas had not learned enough to conclude anything, but he did not want to cut short further confidence when the son seemed so eager to talk.
    “My brother, who died yesterday, had hoped to serve the Church before he became heir. Do you think it likely that such a man would claim he could fly like one of Satan’s imps? There is too much evidence that God has forsaken us! Although my father served Him in Outremer, he now avoids honorable light and walks abroad only in Satan’s hours. That must be a sign too.”
    The monk nodded encouragement.
    “As for my brother who drowned, he was afraid of the sea. He neither swam nor went out in any boat. Had he not been too young, he might have begged to go with our father on crusade, but only if he could have taken a land route. His worst dreams involved spending an eternity bobbing in some hellish lake. Why would he go near enough water to drown in it? Self-murder is a false conclusion. The only logical explanation for his act is that evil rules here.”
    Although Thomas was inclined to agree that something troubling was happening, he knew that men often did strange things out of fear, grief, or guilt. We are rarely reasonable when our fondest hopes are dashed,