Elder Isles 2: The Green Pearl Read Online Free PDF Page B

worship, and it seems to suit the nature of our people very well… . And there is the village with its grand church, where, unless my eyes deceive me, an important ceremony is in progress.”
    “You are observing the panoplies of a Christian funeral,” said Orlo. He drew up his horse and slapped his leg. “A notable scheme has occurred to me. Let us look in on this funeral.”
    Dismounting, the two men tied their horses to a tree and entered the church. Three priests chanted above an open coffin as mourners filed past to pay their last respects.
    Sir Tristano asked in a somewhat anxious voice: “Exactly what do you have in mind?”
    “I conceive that the holy rites of a Christian burial must effectively stifle the evil force of the pearl. The priests are uttering benedictions by the score and Christian virtue hangs thick in the air. The pearl must surely be confounded, absolutely and forever, when surrounded by such a power.”
    “Possibly true,” said Tristano dubiously. “But practical difficulties stand in the way. We cannot possibly intrude upon this mournful rite.”
    “No need whatever,” said Orlo in a jaunty fashion. “Let us join the mourners. When we reach the coffin I will distract the priests while you drop the pearl among the cerements.”
    “It is at least worth a try,” said Sir Tristano and so the deed was done.
    The two stood back to see the coffin lid closed down on corpse and pearl together. Pall-bearers carried the coffin to a grave dug deep into the mold of the churchyard; four sextons lowered the coffin into the grave and, amid the wailing of the bereaved, the coffin was covered with sod.
    “A good funeral!” declared Orlo with satisfaction. “I also notice a sign yonder which betokens the presence of an inn, where perhaps you may wish to take lodging for the night.”
    “What of yourself?” asked Sir Tristano. “Do you not intend to sleep under a roof?”
    “I do indeed, but here, sadly enough, our paths diverge. At the crossroad you will bear to the right, along the road to Avallon. I, however, will turn to the left and an hour’s ride will bring me to the manor of a certain widowed lady whose lonely hours I hope to console or even enliven. So then, Sir Tristano, I bid you farewell!”
    “Orlo, farewell, and I regret parting with so good a companion. Remember, at Castle Mythric you will always be welcome.”
    “I will not forget!” Orlo rode off down the street. At the crossroad he turned, looked back, raised his arm in farewell and was gone.
    Sir Tristano, now somewhat melancholy, rode into the village. At the Sign of the Four Owls he applied for lodging and was conducted up a flight of stairs to a loft under the thatch. His chamber was furnished with a straw pallet, a table, a chair, an old commode and a carpet of fresh reeds.
    For his supper Sir Tristano ate boiled beef, served in its own broth with carrots and turnips, with bread and a relish of minced horseradish in cream. He drank two tall mugs of ale and, fatigued by the exertions of the day, went early to his chamber.
    Quiet held the village, and a near-absolute darkness, with an overcast cloaking the sky, until close on midnight, when the clouds broke open to reveal a sad quartering moon.
    Sir Tristano slept well until this time, when he was awakened by the sound of slow footsteps in the hall. The door to his chamber squeaked ajar, and footsteps told of a presence slowly entering the room, and approaching the pallet. Sir Tristano lay rigid. He felt the touch of cold fingers, and an object dropped upon the cloak which covered his chest.
    The steps shuffled back across the room. The door eased shut. The steps moved away down the corridor and soon could be heard no more.
    Sir Tristano gave a sudden hoarse outcry and jerked up his cloak. A luminous green object fell to the floor and came to rest among the reeds.
    Sir Tristano at last fell into a troubled sleep. The cool red rays of dawn, entering the window, awakened him.