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

see, every Tuesday he visits the poor, in town. To give alms. And I go with him, because someone has to protect the money. But two months ago he began to visit a house that wasn’t so poor.’ Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. ‘A widow’s house.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘Because I stand outside while he visits!’ Another leer. ‘I don’t see what he does, mind, I just wait on the doorstep. All I know is her name: Beatrice Mazeroles de Fanjeaux.’
    Well I’ll be spit-roasted. Who would ever have believed it? Aeldred the almoner! Thinking back to his pale, blinking eyes; his red, fidgety hands; his thin hair and buck teeth. ‘He doesn’t look the type.’
    ‘Well he is. Because he told me not to tell. And he gives me things, every time we go.’ Roquefire rubs his hands together, grinning. ‘Dried apricots. Loaf sugar. Almond paste. Syrup of ginger. Strawberry tarts.’
    ‘And you give them to Saurimunda?’
    Roquefire ducks his head, still grinning. He looks at me out of the corners of his eyes. ‘Some of them,’ he says. ‘It keeps her happy. It keeps her coming back.’
    ‘Mmmm.’ I’ll bet it does. Only a strawberry tart would make up for that garlic breath. ‘But who is she? A peasant? A beggar?’
    ‘Oh . . .’ He dismisses her with a wave of his hand. ‘She’s just a girl. A girl from the village. She’s nobody.’ A pause. ‘But if you want one yourself,’ he adds, with a suppressed snigger, ‘I can always ask – ’
    ‘No thanks.’ (This is getting squalid.) ‘I’m spending all my spare time with Boethius.’
    ‘Boethius?’ He frowns. ‘Who’s that?’
    ‘He wrote this book.’ Tapping its cover. ‘And I’ve got to read it. Is there anywhere here that I can read in peace? Without a circator poking around?’
    Roquefire nods violently, so violently that I’m half afraid his head’s going to fall off.
    ‘There’s a place behind the stairs,’ he says. ‘It’s the buttery. You can close the door, and no one will bother you.’
    ‘ In locum refugii. ’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Into a place of shelter. Thanks, Roquefire. I owe you one.’
    ‘It’s nothing.’ He winks, and moves towards the staircase. ‘You keep your secrets, I’ll keep mine.’
    Secrets, secrets. Always secrets. Now I really know I’m in a monastery again.
    If you ask me, all monasteries are full of secrets.

Chapter 8
    ‘W hat is a proposition?’
    ‘A proposition is an expression signifying what is true or false.’
    ‘What is a question?’
    ‘A question is a proposition brought into doubt.’
    ‘And a conclusion? What is that?’
    ‘A conclusion is a proposition confirmed by argument.’
    Clement nods. Yes! Well done, Pagan! That’s showing him. That’s showing the shrivelled old corpse. Thought you’d beat me, didn’t you, Master Needle-nose? Didn’t think I’d be able to answer your questions, did you?
    ‘ “A conclusion is a proposition confirmed by argument”,’ he repeats, slowly. Across the room, Raymond and the others are playing a psalm-game. One of them recites the first line of a psalm, and someone else has to 58 break in with the rest of it. Not much of a game, but it seems to keep them happy.
    I just hope Roland is getting along all right.
    ‘But what is this argument that you refer to?’ Clement suddenly remarks. ‘Pagan? Look at me. What is an argument? Can you tell me that?’
    An argument? Let’s see, now. I know this. I remember reading this. Just let me think . . .
    ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten?’
    No I haven’t forgotten! Just get off my back, will you? An argument is . . . an argument is . . .
    ‘An argument is a reason producing belief regarding a matter that is in doubt.’
    Hah! So there. You’ll have to do better than that, old man. He opens Boethius, and begins to leaf through it. Hope he doesn’t notice the lamp-oil that I spilt on the cover last night. Hope he doesn’t notice the faint smell of baked fish.
    ‘Here,’ he says, and hands the book to me.