By Sylvian Hamilton Read Online Free PDF Page A

anyway?'

    Straccan
consulted his list. 'It says here, an early blessed martyr. Let's
have a look.' He turned the darkened scrap over in his fingers,
sniffed it, shrugged and handed it back. 'Keep it dry. It'll stan to
smell if the damp gets at it.'

    'What
else is supposed to be in this lot?' Peter poked about in the sheep's
wool packing.

    The
sound of hooves cut through the cheerful racket outside. Straccan
glanced over the rest of the list. 'We should have the Virgin's
binder, a swaddling band of the infant Christ and two of his milk
teeth, a thorn from the crown, a kneecap of Saint Peter, three hairs
of Saint Edmund, a splinter of the true cross, sundry bloody clouts
from sundry martyrdoms, an arrow that pierced Saint Sebastian, oh,
and three teeth of Saint Apollonia.' An ugly gap-toothed face frowned
round the open door. 'Sir, a man to see you.'

    'Who
is it, Cammo?'

    'Him,'
said Cammo, with obvious disapproval. 'From that Master Wotsit.'

    'Master
Gregory?'

    'Aye.'

    'Well
put him in the solar. Have his horse seen to. Tell Adeliza to wait on
him and I'll see him as soon as I've put this lot away.' Master
Gregory's messenger sat at his ease on the cushioned window seat,
dipping his hands in and out of the bowl of warm water Adeliza held
for him. He had been doing this for some time, apparently absorbed in
letting the water run and drip from his fingers. Adeliza looked
unhappy, and her arms had begun to tremble with the strain of holding
the bowl. After a few more moments it shook sufficiently to spill a
little water into the man's lap. He smiled at her.

    'Clumsy
slut,' he said very softly and pinched the back of her hand sharply.
His nails were very long. 'Pretty, but a clumsy slut. Calls you his
housekeeper, does he? Keep his bed warm, do you?' Tears gathered in
her eyes and she stepped back.

    'I
haven't finished,' he said.

    'Yes
you have,' said Cammo from the doorway. He leaned against the door
frame, huge hands hooked into his belt, staring at the man. 'Take the
bowl away, Liza. I'll wait on him.' As she hurried out of the room he
snatched the towel from over her arm and threw it at the seated man.

    'Your
master is ill served,' the man said, still smiling. 'Clumsy cattle
and insolent serfs.'

    'Do
you want something to drink?' Cammo asked, lumbering forward and
looming over him.

    'No.
Wait ... Yes.'

    Outside
the window, a little girl had run into the yard and was talking to
one of the carters, who laughed and swung her high on to the driving
seat of the cart, behind the four great oxen whose heads were well
tucked into nosebags, tails swishing at flies and glossy hides
twitching occasionally.

    The
messenger watched the child and licked his lips. 'Whose brat is
that?' he asked. Cammo ignored the question and plonked a beaker of
beer on the seat beside the man, resuming his stance by the door.
Outside, Gilla chattered happily and gee'd up the oxen until she was
lifted down and taken to meet each beast in turn, her clear voice
repeating their names--Dumpling, Blackbird, Belly-wise and Bracken
–until Adeliza appeared from the kitchen and scooped her back
into the house.

    Peter
came in. 'Master says sorry to keep you waiting, will you come with
me now?' The messenger pushed past Cammo without a glance.

    'Good
day to you, Sir Richard,' he said. 'My master has another commission
for you.'

    'What
does he want?'

    'He
requires a relic of Saint Thomas.'

    'Then
he should apply to Canterbury.'

    'No,
not Becket. Thomas the disciple. Thomas Didymus.' 'Doubting Thomas?'
Straccan looked thoughtful. 'His remains are said to be in India.'

    'As
you say. But the King of France has the skull, or part of it, in his
Halidom.'

    Straccan
took a large thick book from the table beside him and began riffling
through its pages. 'Ah yes,' he said. 'Saint Thomas. The Pope has a
finger. But he won't sell anything for less than a kingdom, and
trying to deal with his agents can take years. King Philip, well,
just possibly he might,