A Wicked Deed by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page B

he snapped to William, still embroiled in the war of wills with his donkey. ‘The poor animal is exhausted; you are far too large for it.’
    Deciding it was less undignified to yield to the donkey’s wishes than to continue chasing it in ever-faster circles, William began to walk toward the path Alcote had taken.
    ‘Not that way,’ said Cynric, watching Bartholomew hop with one foot in the stirrup as he struggled to mount a horse that was every bit as mobile as William’s donkey. ‘The right-hand turn leads to Ipswich; we need to carry straight on.’
    William gave a wolfish grin, revealing large, strong brown teeth. ‘It was kind of you to share that information with Alcote, Cynric. He has taken the wrong path.’
    ‘Will he be safe?’ asked Michael anxiously. ‘He has all our money.’
    ‘There is another village three miles down the Ipswich road,’ said Cynric, displaying remarkable memory for a man who had travelled to Suffolk only once, some twenty years before. ‘He can ask for directions there. The diversion will not take him too far out of his way.’
    ‘And it will be pleasant to escape his company, even if only for a little while,’ said William, smiling with glee. He hauled his donkey toward the Grundisburgh path, but the animal did not want to be led by the friar, either, and there began an angry duet of brays and curses. ‘God’s teeth!’ exploded Michael, as he watched Bartholomew continue to do battle with his horse. ‘Am I completely surrounded by imbeciles? Hold the reins near the bit, man! Cynric, help him, or we shall be here all day.’
    He wheeled his own horse around and headed for the track Cynric had indicated, leaving the others to follow.
    ‘You should not have interfered,’ said Cynric, as he trotted next to Bartholomew.
    ‘But it is bad enough seeing people die because my medicine cannot help them, without seeing them die because someone else has decided they should not live.’
    ‘It is no good theologising with me, boy,’ said Cynric primly. ‘I am just a simple soldier who follows the law as well as he can. And the law does not look kindly on travellers rescuing criminals.’
    ‘I know,’ admitted Bartholomew wearily.
    ‘And soldiers try not to leave bodies lying around without a decent burial,’ continued Cynric, turning to give William a look of disapproval. ‘So neither should scholars. It is not proper.’
    ‘I agree,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But someone will be back for him soon – to collect his fine clothes and dagger, if nothing else.’
    ‘I was looking forward to arriving in Grundisburgh,’ said Cynric gloomily. ‘I have heard that they celebrate a three-day Fair, and it will be starting today. But there is nothing like a dying man to turn gaiety into ashes.’
    ‘Fairs are heathen occasions,’ gasped William breathlessly, as he bolted past them on the donkey he had finally managed to mount, and that was repaying him by galloping furiously along the track, grimly resisting his attempts to restrain it. ‘They are events celebrated by heretics!’
    ‘Nothing like a fanatical Franciscan to turn gaiety into ashes, either,’ said Bartholomew, as the friar and his donkey disappeared around a bend ahead of them.

Chapter 2
    T HE PATHWAY TO GRUNDISBURGH WOUND DOWNWARD , and soon the scholars emerged in a pleasant, shallow basin, surrounded on all sides by gently rolling hills. The fertile valley bottom had been cleared of its scrub for farming, and neat, thin strips showed where crops of wheat and barley had been sown. It was rich land, with sandy soil that was far easier to plough than the clays to the north. The distant hillsides were dotted white with sheep, while the trees that marked the parish boundaries were still sprinkled with the pinks and creams of late blossom. In the morning sunlight, set against a clear, pale blue sky, the scene that stretched before them was one of peace and prosperity.
    It was not long before Grundisburgh’s Church of Our