HAUNT OF MURDER, A Read Online Free PDF Page A

the base of the keep. Scullions had prepared small vats full of hot water so the dishes could be soaked and washed. Beatrice chatted to Marisa for a while and then went back to the green. It was deserted now. The guests had dispersed to the latrines, or to wash or simply to walk off the effects of their feasting. Beatrice stood and stared at the large blue cloth, the great torches on either side, their flames casting strange shadows. She repressed a chill of fear. No more celebrations now. No merriment. It looked a ghostly place. She glanced across at Midnight Tower and wondered what horrors lurked there. She noticed that the parapet walk was dark; the torch which should have been lashed there must have fallen and gone out.
    ‘I’ll go up,’ she decided. ‘It will be nice to walk with Ralph and take the cool of the night.’
    She hurried up the steps. At the top the wind whipped her hair. She stared out over the moat towards Devil’s Spinney where the great oak trees loomed like petrified monsters against the night sky. What secrets did they hold? she wondered. Why had little Phoebe gone there? She peered ahead of her. Ralph should be here. She hurried along, remembering not to look to her left or right. Ralph had taught her that. ‘Never look down and you’ll never be dizzy,’ he had advised. The door to Midnight Tower was open. She glimpsed a shape then something hit the ground in front of her, ringing like a fairy bell.
    Was someone throwing coins at her? Beatrice bent down to pick it up. She heard a sound, a footstep and, as she raised her head, a terrible blow to her temples sent her flying through the night air to crash on to the cobbles below.

Chapter 2
    Beatrice stared down. She’d felt such terrible pains, as if her body was caught and licked by raging fire, but something was wrong. Was she dreaming? She was wearing the same kirtle. She touched her head. There was no pain now. Her hair still hung unbound, cork pattens on her feet, yet there was a body lying on the cobbles before her: eyes open, a line of blood trickling out between parted lips, head twisted strangely, arms out, fingers splayed. It was herself!
    I must be dreaming, in a faint or a swoon, Beatrice thought. She heard a voice call, the sound of footsteps. People came running up: Theobald Vavasour, Father Aylred, Adam and Marisa. All gathered, crouching round her body.
    ‘No, I’m all right!’ she called out.
    Her friends did not respond, yet she was sure she had spoken, she’d heard her own words and she could still feel the cold night air, although the light had changed to a strange bronze colour and it was eerie.
    Ralph appeared, running down the steps. He stood on the cobbles and stared across at the small group, his mouth opening and closing.
    ‘Beatrice!’ he yelled. ‘Beatrice!’
    She ran across to meet him but she couldn’t touch him. He seemed to run through her. Sir John came out of the tower, followed by Lady Anne. Beatrice tried to clutch them but it was like trying to seize the air. She went to stand with them. Ralph was leaning over her body, shaking his head.
He tried to clutch her but Father Aylred gently blocked him.
    ‘She’s dead, Ralph. God save her, she’s dead. There’s nothing we can do.’
    Theobald had his hand pressed against her neck then felt her wrist, searching for the blood pulse. Beatrice was filled with horror.
    ‘I am not dead!’ she called. ‘I’m here!’
    Her words echoed strangely across the bailey.
    ‘I’m not dead!’ she cried. ‘I’m here! I love Ralph! We are going to be married!’
    ‘She must have fallen,’ Adam said. ‘She probably went up to the parapet walk to look for Ralph.’
    Ralph had his face in his hands. ‘I went to my chamber,’ he murmured. ‘I had a May Day present for her.’ He took his hands away, fumbled in his pouch and brought out a small brooch carved in the shape of a griffin. It was silver and studded with tiny glass stones.
    ‘Oh, but it’s