Whited Sepulchres Read Online Free PDF

that it might be a good place to dawdle and enjoy the shade for a few moments. He would probably meet him there and would have an excuse to stop and pass the time of day.
    But wait, what was that? As he looked at the near side of the woods he became aware of movement which didn’t seem natural. Several men were crouched in the undergrowth – one of them had just stood up and that was what Edwin had noticed. They hadn’t seen him, but were looking the other way, towards the monk and his laden mule. Dear Lord. Robbers, and within a couple of miles of the castle itself! This was unheard of: he would have to tell Sir Geoffrey about it when he got back, but right now there was no time – he had to warn the monk. He drew his dagger and started to run.
    He gathered speed as he went down the hill, but he wasn’t going to get there. He still had a good quarter of a mile to go. As he pounded along the road he shouted as loud as he could, making himself hoarse as the dust flew up and caught in his throat, and waved his arms to try and alert the monk’s attention. The robbers broke their cover as they heard him, and came into the road – three of them. They looked round, but saw how far away he was and turned towards the monk anyway. He had seen them now and had stopped, his mule shying in fright as armed men ran towards it. He had the presence of mind to throw the rein into a thick bush so that it caught there before he turned to face the oncoming attackers. Edwin could see the whole picture laid out in front of him, but he was never going to get there. A man of God! How could they? His chest felt as though it was going to burst, but he tried to increase his speed, pumping his arms and sucking in huge breaths. It was no good. The men reached the defenceless monk.
    And then something so extraordinary happened that Edwin wasn’t quite sure whether he’d seen it correctly. Maybe it was the effect of the sun, the dust and the midges clouding his eyes, or the headache, but as he watched, the monk reached round to the back of the mule, which was shying in fright but unable to pull its rein away from where it was entangled, and yanked. For one bizarre and dizzy moment Edwin could have sworn that he’d pulled its leg off. He skidded to a halt, gasping, and shook his head. As his vision cleared he could see that what the monk had in his hand was in fact a stout cudgel, two or three feet long. Well, thank the Lord he wasn’t seeing things, but really, a lump of wood wouldn’t be much use against three armed men – he had to get there and help. He gulped a huge breath and started to jog forward again. But as the monk stood to receive the assault, he swung the stick expertly in his right hand and stepped into the attack.
    The first man, slashing a dagger wildly, went down with a crack to the head before he’d even got close. Then the monk took on the other two together, twirling the cudgel at such speed that Edwin could hardly see it, although he heard the thump as it connected with something, followed by a scream. The second man was staggering back with blood streaming from his face as the third, armed with a sword, tried to lunge forward. The monk feinted to one side and then brought his weapon down precisely on the man’s elbow. He shrieked in pain and dropped the sword, clutching at his injured arm. The monk watched him calmly, still swinging the cudgel, and took a single step forward. The man fled, followed by the one with the bleeding face, and they both disappeared into the undergrowth. The entire encounter had taken less time than it would take Edwin to say a paternoster.
    Edwin slowed as he finally reached the scene. The monk turned to him and he suddenly realised that he might look like another attacker, so he flung his hands into the air and stopped, gasping that he’d been on his way to help. The monk smiled. ‘ Benedicte , my son. I know you were, and you have my thanks for warning me.’ His voice was calm – he