Sacrifice Read Online Free PDF Page B

stretched, and went inside to find Theresa, part-owner and madam of The Cardinal’s Hat.
       As usual at this time of day, Theresa was in the tiny room at the rear of the ground floor, knitting and singing to herself.
       The room always reminded Maud of the Scriptorium, the private study at Heydon Court where her grandmother and namesake, Dame Elizabeth Bolton, had often retreated from the cares and stresses of the world.
       There was little resemblance between her grandmother, whom she dimly remembered as a fierce, vinegar-faced old tyrant, and Theresa. The madam of The Cardinal’s Hat was a stout, heavy-featured woman lost somewhere between forty and fifty, with a dark complexion and thick tresses, dyed black as pitch.
       She called herself Theresa, and affected a Spanish accent, but occasionally let slip a Cheapside twang. Maud never remarked on the clumsy deceit, and had taken care over the years to cultivate madam’s friendship. Life in the brothel was easier with the proprietor on her side.
       “Come,” trilled the familiar voice when Maud knocked politely on the door. She pushed it open and stepped inside, remembering to curtsey, as though entering the presence of some noblewoman.
       Theresa smiled and set down her embroidery. Despite years of practice, she was atrocious at needlework, and Maud pitied which of her tribe of bastard children would be required to wear the lumpen abomination resting on her lap.
       “Maud, my dear,” said Theresa, offering her brown hand to be kissed, “always a pleasure to receive you, but should you not be on the step?”
       Maud bowed her head and planted a respectful kiss on the back of Theresa’s hand. It tasted of cheap soap and hand-cream.
       “Apologies, mistress,” she murmured, “I beg your indulgence, and wonder if I might be excused duty this morning. The streets are very quiet. Everyone is going to see the new King enter London.”
       Theresa scratched her whiskery cheek. “I’m surprised at you, Maud. You’re usually such a reliable girl. Why, I can’t recall the last time I had to take my switch to you.”
       Maud could. The weals on her back were over seven months old, and would likely never heal completely. Theresa’s switch was a long, whip-like cane with a steel tip, and marked for life all those it came into contact with.
       “Just this once, mistress,” she begged, “I’ll do a double shift tonight to make up for it.”
       Theresa sniffed and threw back her head. She looked imperious, or perhaps imagined she did, a great lady sat in judgement on a servant.
       Maud’s pride had gone the same way as her innocence, otherwise she could never have abased herself before such a low-born creature. She may have had gentle blood coursing through her veins, but also wanted it to stay there.
       “Ve-ry well,” Theresa said eventually, “just this once, then. I suppose it is excusable. The new king is young, and probably worth seeing if he takes after his father. Go find Long Kate and tell her to take your place on the step. You can make it up for it by having her regulars tonight.”
       “And I want you back by midday, mind,” she added as Maud knelt and kissed her hand again in thanks, “or I will lay my switch across that bony rump of yours.”
       Maud climbed the steps to her bedchamber, one of the largest in the brothel, and donned a grey tunic and a dark blue mantle with a hood. She had no wish to be recognised in the street by any of her customers.
       It paid for a woman wandering alone in the Southwark stews to look to her safety. She slid open the top drawer of the little cupboard next to her bed, and took out a dagger in a brown leather sheath.
    This was the same blade Maud used to cut out the tongue of the girl who mocked her. It had drawn blood on other occasions, when Maud had been obliged to defend herself against over-amorous or violent patrons.
       She slowly drew the dagger from its