Pagan's Daughter by Catherine Jinks Read Free Book Online Page B

you going to meet your lover?’
    ‘My lover? ’ How dare you! I can’t spit; my mouth’s too dry.
    So I stamp on his soft, white foot instead.
    It must hurt. He winces, and sucks air through his teeth. Still, however, he doesn’t release his grip.
    ‘Don’t do that,’ he gasps. ‘Please.’
    ‘Filthy priest! I have no lover!’
    ‘All right. I’m sorry.’
    ‘Whoreson lecherous stinking—’
    ‘Shh! We’re wasting time!’ He gives me a little shake. ‘Why are you running away, then? Because they beat you?’
    ‘That’s not your concern!’
    ‘Yes, it is.’ His tone suddenly changes. It becomes dry and strong and cold. ‘Listen to me. Your father was my father, in all but blood. Everything that I have, I owe to God and your father. Therefore, having found you, how can I let you pass out of my sight?’
    What is he talking about? This means nothing to me. And the sun is rising! It’s getting brighter!
    ‘Please! Let me go!’ They’ll catch me, if I stay here. ‘I don’t want your help!’
    ‘You’re going to need it, though.’ Still the same dry, hard voice. ‘How far do you think you’ll get, in this disguise? How far are you going?’
    Oh God, oh God, I’ll be caught. There’s a man opening shutters.
    ‘For a whole day I roamed the streets in search of you,’ the priest goes on, oblivious to the splash of night-soil hitting cobblestones. ‘Then I tried the markets. When I discovered where you lived, I took a room in the inn across the way. I’ve been watching your house from the window, day and night. Waiting for a chance to speak to you.’ I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His eyes are shadowed. ‘Do you think I’m going to walk away now?’ he says.
    ‘Please.’ I won’t cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction. ‘Please, you must . . . I have to get out. I have to leave the city, please. ’
    ‘Then we’ll both go.’
    And he drops my wrists, fastening his hand on my shoulder instead.
    I can’t seem to move. Too dazed.
    ‘Come,’ he says. ‘We will walk out of Toulouse together, side by side. We will go to Lespinasse.’
    ‘L—Lespinasse?’
    ‘The convent. Don’t you know it? Lespinasse is about a quarter day’s walk north of here. It’s where I’m staying.’ He stoops, and picks up my bundle. ‘Come,’ he says.
    This can’t be happening. I have to think. He has my bundle. I can’t leave without my bundle. And his fingers are anchored firmly in the folds of my tunic.
    ‘I am not a canon of St Etienne,’ he continues, as we walk along. ‘Do you realise that? I am a canon—I’ve taken orders—but I was in the cathedral to visit an acquaintance. And then I saw you, and stayed longer here than I intended. But most of my possessions are with the nuns of Lespinasse.’ He speaks very gently and precisely. Everything that he says sounds like a prayer. ‘So we’ll go back to Lespinasse,’ he explains, ‘and I will say that you are my new servant, and we’ll discuss our plans in peace. In my room.’
    In your room?
    Oh no.
    Wait just a moment.
    ‘What is it?’ He stops alongside me. ‘What’s wrong?’
    ‘Are you mad?’ (What do you think I am, an idiot? Do you think I have bees in my brain?) ‘I’m not going with you. Especially not to your room.’
    ‘Why not?’ He looks down his long, pale, freckled nose. ‘Can you think of a better place to talk?’
    ‘To talk? ’ Is that what you call it? ‘I know what you’re after, and you can think again!’
    He blinks. When he draws himself erect, it’s frightening to watch because he gets even taller. His tone is as dry as my mouth.
    ‘My dear girl—’
    ‘I’m not your dear girl! I’m not anybody’s girl—no, nor anybody’s whore, either! You priests are all the same! You and my father are spun from the same bale!’
    ‘Listen—’
    ‘I don’t want your help! My father is nothing to me! If he was here I’d spit in his face! Just leave me alone, I can take care of