Heresy: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

around Cecile to shield her. Then something struck his head and he fell.
    When he awoke, he was on the floor of a cart, his arms tied. His head ached horribly and his tongue was swollen with thirst.
    Beside him was Cecile. She was still unconscious.
    At least that was what he thought until he saw the blood clotting on the deep gash in her throat.
    “Cecile?” He stared at the blood. Slowly the horror came to him.
    “Cecile!” He reached for her with his bound hands, trying to hold her. The cool blood was sticky on his fingers, on his face as he bent to touch her cheek with his lips. She was stiff as ice.
    Frantically, he began working at his bonds. He was astonished when, with almost no effort, they came apart. Someone had cut the ropes nearly through. Why? There was only one answer: to incriminate him in Cecile’s death. What other reason could there be? There was no one who knew him here, no one who would want to save him.
    It was clear to him that the man Cecile so feared had taken her life. A white rage swept over him. For the first time in his life, he would have joyfully run a sword into a man’s heart. He looked about for a weapon. There was nothing. Not even the knife that had cut Cecile’s neck. It didn’t matter. He would charge the guards like a mad bear and kill them all.
    The rational part of his mind asserted itself at once.
    He would be brought down in a matter of minutes and hanged from the nearest tree. And whoever murdered Cecile would never be brought to justice.
    There was only one hope. He had to get away at once and find help, before his captors found out who he really was.
    Peter knelt by the body of Cecile. He made the sign of the cross on her forehead and said a quick but fervent prayer for her soul. Then he kissed her lips.
    Finally, he climbed out of the cart, crept past the sleeping guard and vanished into the misty forest.
     
    A week later, Solomon was having a relaxing meal at the home of his friend Abraham, the vintner. It was rare that he was able to have food cooked according to the Law, and he was making the most of it.
    “More?” his hostess, Rebecca, asked.
    He nodded, mouth full, and she signaled the servant to offer him the platter.
    Solomon gave a huge sigh of contentment. Even with Catherine and Edgar he always felt slightly on edge, as if at any moment they would try again to convert him. Here they only nagged him to marry one of the lovely pious girls they seemed to know in abundance. It was little enough to pay for being allowed to be himself for an evening.
    Rebecca smiled in a way that told Solomon she knew what he was thinking.
    “You could eat like this every night, you know,” she said.
    “Is that an invitation?” Solomon grinned at her. He capitulated. “Who do you have in mind for me now? I thought we’d been through all the girls of Paris.”
    “We have,” Rebecca said. “But I have a wonderful niece, almost eighteen. She lives near Reims. Her father has vineyards that produce the most delicate wine. She’s quite lovely, blond as the English. We can arrange to have her visit this summer, or perhaps you’ll be going that way?”
    Solomon shook his head. “Spain. Edgar and I need to arrange new contacts there. All these Christian wars have destroyed decent trade.”
    “Be careful down there,” Abraham spoke for the first time. “The Saracen parts of Spain are becoming almost as dangerous for us as the Christian ones. The new Saracen leaders aren’t as soft on Jews as the old ones.”
    “I know that well.” Solomon finished the bowl of spiced chicken and leaned back on his cushioned chair, a cup of Abraham’s best wine in his hand. He twirled it, the silver filigree shining in the lamplight. He regarded his friends with sadness.
    “Where is there a place where we don’t have to be wary?” he asked them.
    Abraham refilled his wine cup.
    “At this table, my friend,” he said. “And don’t think we didn’t notice how you turned the conversation