Roseblood by Paul Doherty Read Free Book Online Page A

years ago, around the anniversary of his wife’s death. He had never thought any woman could catch his eye and heart so swiftly. She was the vivacious daughter of a failing, sickly London merchant who had lost his wealth due to sea monsters – Breton pirates in the northern seas. Simon had been deeply smitten, but so had Edmund, and Eleanor only had eyes for him.
    ‘Simon, this sea of troubles?’
    ‘Like any brother and sister, we’ll face it out.’ He paused.
    ‘Simon?’
    ‘Nothing, nothing.’ Roseblood fell silent; then, ‘I cannot walk away Eleanor, they will not let me. Out there,’ he pointed at the door, ‘are a multitude of empty bellies, not to mention my own kith and kin who depend on me. In the end, the life that I have is the life that I lead, and the life that I lead is the life that has been thrust on me.’ That was the real difference between him and Edmund.
    ‘And your children, how are they? I see them at mass; they talk to me, though I am never sure if they are just telling me the things I want to hear.’
    ‘Raphael is a pillar of strength; a serjeant at law, he has returned to help me in the tavern. He looks after all my business, which eases the humours of both mind and body. Gabriel is now a novice in the Franciscan order at Greyfriars under Prior Aelred.’
    ‘Edmund had a special regard for Gabriel. He saw him as the son he always wanted.’
    Simon just shrugged.
    ‘And Katherine?’
    ‘As lovely as ever, though her right leg still pains her sometimes. She is just about her eighteenth summer, keen and sharp-witted. Others think she is slightly fey. She has read too much about Arthur and the romances of Avalon. I am sure,’ Simon laughed sharply, ‘that Katherine expects Galahad of the Grail to ride into the tavern courtyard. She is constantly retreating to what she calls her greensward bower in the orchard.’
    ‘And the Fraternity of the Doom?’ Eleanor smiled knowingly. ‘I know that they pray for Edmund’s soul. That in his name they do good work along the Thames, combing its waters for those who have drowned, bringing their corpses back to Greyfriars for Christian burial.’
    Simon crouched beside her. ‘Of course you know, sister,’ he teased, ‘as you know how the Fraternity also meets the wine cogs from Bordeaux, taking and selling their claret without paying custom. But…’
    He paused at a tumult from the other side of the church. He left the anchorhold and hurried to the men tangling on the threshold of the corpse door. Through the poor light he recognised the thickset figure and harsh features of the parish priest; beside him Benedict’s curate and keeper of the Chapel of the Doom, Father Roger, thin as a beanpole, his blond hair cropped. The two priests were trying to drag into the church a man whose chest and belly were a soggy, gleaming mass of blood, his face half hidden by a cowl. They clutched him tightly, at the same time striving to drive off the city bailiffs, who held on to the wounded man’s legs, attempting to drag him back.
    ‘Desist!’ Father Benedict bellowed. ‘
Hic est locus terribilis
.’ He intoned the official sanctuary greeting. ‘
Haec est porta Caeli et domus Dei
. This is indeed a terrible place, the gate of Heaven and the house of God. This man, like Joab of old, claims sanctuary according to the tenets of Holy Mother Church. You shall be excommunicated.’
    The bailiffs, led by Skulkin, would not be cowed. ‘He has not reached the horns of the high altar,’ the chief bailiff bellowed. The fugitive was now screaming in pain, kicking his legs as the priests pulled him in.
    ‘One more step.’ Roseblood, sword and dagger drawn, stepped round the priests, the blades of his weapons darting dangerously close to Skulkin and his companions. ‘One more step,’ he repeated, ‘and you will die, whilst I will be hosted by Holy Mother Church as the champion of her liberties.’ He sheathed his dagger, dug into his purse and drew out a few