James Patterson The Jester

Archiwum

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in the trees. A bright round moon peeked through the clouds. I asked her, How
is Norbert? His health?
He is fine again, Emilie said, except he is still unable to do that trick with
the chains. But things have changed since Stephen's return. The Tafurs are
everywhere, and the duke is behind them.
Stephen and Anne, I replied.
Anne... Emilie stopped, hesitating. I believe with all my heart she did not
act of her own accord.
You mean the raids she directed in her husband's absence, the slaughter and
mayhem, these were not hers?
I only meant that she behaved from fear. I do not justify it. She said
something to me, Hugh, that I did not understand. I pressed her on why she
allowed these things to occur, and she said, `If I knew the person we sought
all along was at Bor e, your jester would be as dead as his wife.'
I shook my head in confusion.
She called you theinnkeeper from the Crusade. It was why they took your wife.
But she claimed she did not know this was you.
Why? Why in God's name would they want me?
Because you hold `the greatest prize in Christendom.' Emilie tilted her head
to me. And do not know. That is what Anne says.
The greatest prize in Christendom... I started to laugh. Are they mad? Look
around you. I have nothing. All that I had they've already taken.
I told her the same. But you were there, Hugh, in the Crusade. Perhaps they
confuse you with someone else.
We had arrived at the inn. Emilie shivered in the cold night air, and I ached
to hold her, just for a moment. I would have given anything to have her in my
arms. Even the greatest prize in Christendom.
I brought something for you, Hugh. I have it here. We ducked inside the door.
By the fiery hearth, Elena was already asleep on her mat. Emilie went over to
her satchel.
She came back with a calfskin pouch cinched at the top, and from it removed a
wooden box the size of my two palms. It was finely engraved, the mark of a
craftsman, with an ornate letterC on its lid.
She placed the box in my hands and stepped back. This belongs to you, Hugh.
It's why I came.
I stood there examining the box a moment, then lifted the tiny latch and
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opened the lid.
Burning tears welled in my eyes. Immediately I knew what the box contained.
Ashes.
Sophie's ashes...
Her body was cremated the following day, Emilie said softly. I went and
gathered these. The priests say her soul will not reach Heaven unless she is
buried.
A knot rose in my chest and throat. I took the deepest breath, as if sucking
air into every fiber in my body. You cannot know how much I treasure this
gift, Emilie.
As I said, Hugh, it belongs to you.
I wrapped my arms around her and drew her close. I felt her heart beating
against mine.
I whispered beneath my breath, so only I could hear. I meant you.
Chapter 88
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I rose before the sun. I took the calfskin pouch that
was next to my bed and slipped out of the inn.
Next to the woodshed, I found a few scattered tools. I took a shovel. The
cocks had not yet crowed.
A few other early risers fluttered about their chores. A carter was heading
out with his mule. By the baker's hut, the smell of fresh baking bread
perfumed the air.
I headed for the knoll overlooking our village.
I had dreamed of this so many times since Sophie had died in my arms. Bringing
her home. The thought that her soul was incomplete, with no rites or
blessings, tormented me. Now her life would be complete. She would rest here
forever.
By the ford in the stream I began to climb a steep hill. The morning was alive
with birds chirping in the soft light. The sun tried to burn through the mist.
I climbed for a few minutes; soon I was above the town. I looked back over the
waking valley. The little huts had begun to show life. I saw the square and
the inn. Emilie was sleeping there.
On top of the hill, I went to a spot near a spreading elm where my son's grave
was.
I knelt and put the calfskin pouch down. Then I began to dig. I made a space
in the ground next to Phillipe. Tears gathered in my eyes as a heavy drum
pounded inside my chest.
At last you're home, Sophie, I whispered. You and Phillipe.
I opened the pouch and held the box with theC. Then I scattered her ashes into
the dug-up earth and covered them up again. I stood there at her grave and
looked back over the awakening town.
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You are finally home,Sophie. Your soul can rest.
Chapter 89
STEPHEN OF BOR" SAT STOLIDLY on the high-backed chair in his court. A crowd of
E
toadying favor-seekers stood in line as his bailiff brought him up to date on
a new tax. Behind him, the seneschal readied a report on the status of his
demesne. His thoughts were a thousand miles away.
An incompleteness jabbed at Stephen. Since he had been back, the business of
his estates, his holdings, things that had once meant everything to him, now
seemed trivial, worthless. These functionaries droned on and on, but he could
not fix. His mind was a brooding pit that focused on a single, far-off point
of light.
The prize. The treasure.
It haunted him, invaded his dreams. This holy relic miraculously preserved for
centuries in the tombs of the Holy Land. He longed for it with an avarice he
had felt for no woman. Something that had touched Him. He woke in the night
dreaming about it, his body covered in sweat. His lips grew dry just thinking
of its touch.
With such a prize in hand, Bor e would be among the most powerful duchies in
Europe. What a cathedral he would build to house its glory. What was the worth [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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