The Gallows Curse Read Online Free PDF Page B

confirm this, the flies buzzing
among the rafters descended like a flock of miniature doves. Crawling over the
face of the corpse, they refused this time to be deterred by the mere flapping
of a hand.
        'You
must make the announcement of your son's death tonight, m'lady, in the hall.
Tell them we have already washed and prepared the body, so that no one examines
it.'
        'No!'
Anne wailed, 'I need more time.'
        Raffe
turned away, unable to bear the anguish on her face, but he could not afford to
spare her feelings.
        'He
must be buried tomorrow, m'lady. Leave it another day and the body will start
to bloat in the heat. I'll give orders that they're to work through the night
to prepare the coffin and the grave.'
        Anne
raised her head. 'Where?' she demanded savagely. 'Where am I to bury my son?
With the church locked, he cannot be laid in the family vault. What would you
have me do, bury him under the midden?'
        'The
prison chamber beneath the undercroft. I went to examine it this morning.'
        'The
undercroft!' Anne blazed angrily. You think I want my son dumped among the
stinking bundles of dried fish and barrels of pickled pork?'
        Raffe
slammed his great fist against the wall. 'God's teeth, woman, do you think that
I. . .' he bellowed, but with a great effort managed to stop himself before he
finished his utterance.
        The
wars had taught him that the men thrown into the hastily dug mass graves were
the lucky ones. At least their humiliation was over. The severed heads staring
sightless from the ramparts and the rotting corpses of mutilated men dangling
from the walls soon taught you that even the meanest burial affords a dignity
that is beyond price.
        Raffe
took a deep breath and tried to speak gently. 'That part of the prison chamber
shall be walled up after the coffin is placed there. I'll do it myself. Then
Sir Gerard may lay undisturbed until the Interdict is lifted and the coffin can
be interred in the church.'
        Lady
Anne's head sank again into her hand.
        'Why
. . . why was he taken now?' she whispered.
        Raffe
turned his face away. Hadn't he screamed that very question into the hell-black
heavens all night long, and received no more answer than she had?
        'All
those months and years when my son was away fighting in the Holy Lands and in
Aquitaine I was driven to my knees in prayer a dozen times a day for him. I
felt guilty if I laughed or even slept, imagining that Gerard was lying
mortally wounded on a battlefield, or being tortured by the barbarous Saracens,
or even drowning in the roaring seas, his ship torn apart on the savage rocks
of the French coast. And when you and Gerard finally came home, and Gerard
swore to me on his knees that he would go to war no more, you cannot imagine
the joy and relief I felt. My son would live to see me buried, as it should be.
        'What
did I do wrong? Did I not show enough gratitude for his safe return? Did I
neglect my prayers? Is God punishing me for my presumptuousness in daring to
believe that my son was safe? Why has He taken him now?'
        Raffe
struggled to force words from his own tightened throat. 'At least you know how
your son died and where he will be buried. Many mothers in England would give
all they have to know that much.'
        'Do
you really think I need to be reminded of that?' Anne said bitterly. 'My own
husband lies rotting in a mass grave in Acre. I know I should be grateful to
have my son's corpse to grieve over. But it is no comfort. My husband died
under the Cross in the Holy Wars, with all his sins absolved, but Gerard...'
        Raffe
turned back to the open chest. He pulled at the corpse, bending low so that he
could heave the body over his broad shoulder, then staggered across the room
and deposited him on the wooden table, carefully easing the head down on to the
boards so that it did not thump on the wood. He crossed the arms over the