Hearts of Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

will defend him from the plague will you, butcher? Methinks not. And why do you sit there all moonfaced, anyway?’ Her eyes widened and she turned to me. My heart sunk to somewhere close to my toes and I wished I had not admitted him into the house.
    ‘You told him,’ she whispered. ‘You told him!’
    I opened my mouth and prayed for words of wisdom. Nothing happened.
    ‘We were at a wedding,’ Dowling ventured bravely. ‘He asked me what it was like being married.’
    She stared at me, green eyes flashing.
    ‘He said I was like Shechem, son of Hamor the Hivite,’ I added, unable to think of anything sensible to say.
    Her top lip peeled back slowly from her teeth. I wondered where to put my hands. I edged about the wall of my kitchen heading for the door, but afore I could escape she flung herself at me and wrapped her arms about my back in iron embrace. I grimaced in anticipation of being bitten on the neck, but instead I felt hot, wet breath somewhere close to my ear. I shivered and held her afront of me. She ducked her head to hide her eyes, then flung herself at me again, lifting her head and gazing up. Her lips parted and I felt something stir deep within. And something else, not so deep within.
    ‘I’ll keep my estate, Jane, and be back in a week,’ I assured her, feeling helpless.
    At which she chewed her lip, scowled like Dowling, and stomped down the corridor and up the stairs. Leaving me stood in the kitchen in a state of complete confusion. Women speak two languages, quoth the Bard, one of which is verbal. The other I did not understand.
    I followed her upstairs and knocked gently upon the door of her room, leaving Dowling to let himself out.

Chapter Four
    These blazing stars appear but seldom, they without all doubt portend very great Calamities.
    Next morning we met Withypoll at Whitehall.
    All that remained of Berkshire’s body was a wide black stain upon the rich yellow fabric of an intricately carved, upholstered chair. All about was deathly quiet. I scanned the small room: polished walls, squat French console with legs bowed like a bulldog, a tall walnut chest of drawers. All positioned about the edge of a fine, oriental rug laid precisely upon the wooden floor. I stole a glance out the window towards the river, saw the boats meandering well away from the well-guarded jetty. Behind us lay the Privy Garden, the King’s private place of reflection and repose.
    ‘Arlington said they found him pinned by James Josselin’s blade,’ I recalled. ‘How did he know it was Josselin’s blade?’
    Withypoll sauntered across the marquetry floor of the panelledroom like a prudish heron. Circling the chair, he opened the door of a tall, narrow cupboard. He reached inside, turned quick and tossed a sword at me. I leapt backwards as the weapon clattered to the floor. Its steel blade stretched two feet long, shiny at the tip, scarlet stain along its shaft. Two intertwined letter ‘J’s formed the bar cage, intricate and beautiful.
    ‘The scabbard is missing,’ said Withypoll. ‘But the weapon is Josselin’s. Every man at court would swear it.’
    ‘So Josselin marched into the heart of the palace, killed a man with his own blade, then left it for all to see,’ I said.
    ‘Marching into the palace was simple,’ said Withypoll. ‘He came here often. He was obviously interrupted and ran away. It matters not whether he left his blade or not. He was caught in the act.’
    ‘Who interrupted him?’ Dowling growled.
    ‘The guards, a servant, whoever was around,’ Withypoll replied, dismissively. ‘It is of no import. Arlington told me to show you the scene of his death, not to answer foolish questions.’
    ‘Seen and chased then.’ I moved slowly back to the door and looked out. ‘Across the courtyard and out into the gallery.’
    Withypoll glided into a position behind my right shoulder. ‘So I presume.’
    ‘You presume a lot.’
    ‘Talk to me again like that, Lytle,’ Withypoll hissed into