Adrian Read Online Free PDF Page B

this room, you have the responsibility to see that scum wiped from the earth. But Stan, you must see the logic in my argument: your mourning is so deep, so impenetrable—you are not yourself. Just because you want to believe that you will meet Glayer Felsteppe face-to-face and see him dead”—he turned to acknowledge each man in the room—“because you want to believe it, to finish what you started in Beckhamshire; because you want to believe, to save Constantine this suffering; because you want to believe, if only to show that there is something magical about this dreadful, miserable earthly existence.”
    Adrian turned back to Constantine. “Does not mean it is so. I do believe that if any can lead us to redemption—regain at least part of what we lost that terrible day at Chastellet—it is you, Stan. But you would put yourself, and us, in danger if you take on this fool’s errand. You have been weakened by your loss. Your mental state is not sound.”
    Roman’s gruff voice cut through the tension. “I think you’ve said quite enough, Adrian.”
    But Constantine acted as though the Norseman hadn’t spoken. “Weak now, am I, Aid? Not mentally sound, you say?”
    Adrian squared his jaw. “From all I have learned of the mind, that is my opinion. Yes.”
    â€œPhysician, heal thyself,” Constantine said in a low voice.
    Adrian frowned. “This is not about me.”
    Valentine leaned forward in his chair, one elbow on the table. “It seems to me that all you have learned of the mind has been through personal experience, yes? Do you no hide yourself away in this very room, day after day, choosing to lose yourself in your precious learning? Do you no limp about, feeling sorry for yourself? At least Stan’s behavior is justified. You are a coward.”
    â€œYes,” Roman added, warming to the idea the Spaniard was undoubtedly alluding to. “When it is you who has the most knowledge of building, by your own arrogant admission.”
    â€œAnd,” even Victor seemed eager for the sacrifice, “if we are all such fools for believing in anything that cannot be grasped in the hand, you are the best candidate to take on the task. Surely your superior intellect could not be led astray.”
    Every pair of eyes was fixed to him now, and Adrian wondered at their sudden hostility. He’d only been trying to save Constantine’s life by pointing out the obvious. Now they were attacking him.
    Adrian looked at them all in turn and realized he was nodding his head. He held out his palms. “You want me to go?”
    Constantine’s scowl relented a bit. “You don’t have to go, Adrian.” “No,” Valentine said with a whiff of disgust in his tone. “If Glayer Felsteppe survived my blade, he is unlikely to be bragged to death.”
    â€œOh, he is capable of tactics more deadly than that, aren’t you, Adrian?” Roman said quietly, and when Adrian met the Norseman’s ice blue eyes he once more saw the splash of blood, heard the clang of swords beneath the hellish cries of attack, smelled the sweat contained within the bowl of Chastellet’s sunbaked walls.
    Adrian again felt Roman’s shoulders beneath him as he was carried—more dead than alive—from Saladin’s prison.
    â€œFine,” Adrian said, holding Roman’s gaze for a heartbeat longer. Then he looked to Victor. “When am I to depart for this imaginary island?”
    Victor seemed more than a little surprised. “Within the hour.”
    Inside, Adrian paused. He had not expected to leave so soon. Actually, he’d not expected to leave at all. Ever.
    â€œVery well,” he said. He gave the men seated around the table a nod. “I shall gather my things.”
    Victor called out to Adrian as he reached the stone slab. “We shall meet you in the courtyard, while the brethren are at their