Covenant With Hell by Priscilla Royal Read Free Book Online

thief. He opened his mouth to advise caution, but words failed to come forth. His eyes were fixed on that pouch.
    The merchant rested a gentle hand on Father Vincent’s shoulder. “Do you think the king might be visiting very soon?”
    “We have not yet heard the precise date.”
    “But surely he would send a messenger so you could prepare the setting of this newest relic for a royal viewing. Although I have not yet visited the shrine of which you speak, I have heard others praise it. The king must have as well.”
    The priest’s thin chest puffed with pride. “Our king is deeply attached to all the shrines here. He credits the Lady of Walsingham for saving his life.”
    “I believe I have heard that tale. Was he not playing chess when Our Lady inspired him to move just before a large stone fell from the roof?”
    Vincent nodded. “It landed on the spot where he had been sitting, yet he was unhurt.”
    The merchant’s expression grew soft with admiration. “Many say that his devotion to this place exceeds even that of his devout father,” he murmured.
    “You must be correct that he would want to seek our tiny but holy shrine.” The priest looked meaningfully at the merchant. “Who would not long to worship strands of the Virgin’s hair?”
    The man smiled and put two fingers into that rounded purse. “And might you send word to me as soon as you know when our king will be entering Walsingham?” He nodded at the inn. “I shall remain there for the time being, as I have many sins and much penance to perform. When I know the date of the king’s arrival, I shall arrange with you to lodge in the chambers of which you spoke. It would bring me joy to glimpse our king after visiting the shrines during this more peaceful time. And I shall not fail to offer a suitable gift to honor your own holy relic.” He stretched his hand toward the priest.
    Father Vincent swore to do as the merchant required, then closed his eyes and his hand. The man had given him two coins, so newly minted he could feel the details of the king’s image on them. Fondling them, he savored this welcome gift.
    But when he opened his eyes, the merchant had disappeared. The priest looked around, but there was no sign of him. Were he not holding these coins as proof, he might have wondered if he had imagined the conversation.
    He tried to picture the man’s face, but it had been of such common form that it was quite unremarkable. Now he feared he might not recognize him again.
    He took in a deep breath and calmed himself. After all, he knew the man’s name and where he was staying. That was sufficient to send a messenger as the man had asked.
    Looking heavenward, Father Vincent smiled. All he need do is tell this merchant the date the king would enter Walsingham, endure a short time as a charity guest in the priory of the favored shrines, and find a way to urge King Edward to visit a new shrine near Ryehill Priory, acquired after the king’s last visit.
    Were God to smile with especial kindness on the little shrine, the priest was sure the coin from the wine merchant and any gift from the king would be enough to repay in full what he had secretly taken from alms due the priory to acquire that relic. For so great a blessing, he would cheerfully tolerate the itching from a flea-ridden straw bed.
    Gripping the three coins he had already received, he hurried on to the chapel, praying that Prioress Eleanor and her troublesome monk were still there. If they had left, Prioress Ursell would be deeply angered over his failure to achieve what she required. And her fury could be awesome. Had he not seen her bow to the cross, an act no imp would perform, he might have wondered at the source of such hot rage when she was thwarted.
    The merit in his delay was not anything he dared explain. The prioress knew nothing of what some might call theft from her coffers. Had he asked for the sum to buy the relic for the Shrine of the Virgin’s Lock, she would have