The Paths of the Air by Alys Clare Read Free Book Online

prepare his body for burial.’
    He turned and beckoned to the two lay brothers who, with no display of emotion save that their touch on the dead man’s body was noticeably gentle and respectful, loaded him onto the hurdle.
    â€˜We can’t carry him into the Abbey like that,’ Josse said, gazing down at the corpse. He unfastened his cloak and was about to cover the body with it when Guiot said, ‘Wait.’ Then, looking slightly ashamed: ‘Pity to spoil a good cloak. Let me fetch a bit of sacking to absorb the blood, then your cloak can go on top of that.’
    It made sense. Josse gave a curt nod, and the dead man, decently covered, was borne away to Hawkenlye Abbey.
    â€˜I think,’ Josse said to Abbess Helewise, ‘that the victim may be John Damianos.’
    â€˜I see,’ the Abbess said slowly. ‘You are not sure?’
    â€˜I cannot be, my lady, for John Damianos wore a headdress that kept his brow, nose and mouth concealed and his eyes in shade. Our dead man was naked when he was found and his garments are missing.’
    â€˜On what grounds, then, do you believe him to be this John Damianos?’
    â€˜Right build, right height, same olive skin tone, and John Damianos is missing. Also the dead man was circumcised, which suggests he was possibly Muslim, and, as I told you, I believe the man who took refuge in my outbuilding was a servant brought home from Outremer.’
    â€˜Yes, yes, so you did,’ she murmured. Then, frowning, ‘But is such scant information sufficient for us to bury him as John Damianos?’
    Josse shrugged. ‘I do not know, my lady.’
    Abruptly she stood up and, walking around her table, said, ‘Come, Sir Josse. Let us go and join Sister Euphemia.’
    The corpse had been taken to the infirmary and Sister Caliste had washed it. Now, as the Abbess parted the curtains and led the way into the recess, both Sister Caliste and the infirmarer were bending over the dead man.
    Sister Euphemia glanced up as they stepped inside and let the curtain fall behind them. She gave the Abbess a bow and said quietly, ‘I’ve tidied him up. I hope that was all right, Sir Josse, only . . .’ Her lips tightened.
    Josse looked at the long, strong body lying on the cot. The guts had been pushed back into the abdomen, the flesh held together with a neat row of large stitches. A roll of linen had been placed beneath the head, so that the chin was tucked down against the upper chest, partly closing the awful wound in the throat. Meeting Sister Euphemia’s eyes, he nodded. ‘Aye. It was quite all right, Sister. I saw him by the road and I know what was done to him.’
    The Abbess’s face was white. He could hear her soft mutter as she prayed for the dead man’s soul. When she had finished, she turned to Josse and said, in what he thought was an admirably controlled tone, ‘What can have prompted such savagery, Sir Josse? This man must have suffered agony.’
    He hesitated, not because he had no answer but because that answer added more horror. But she was waiting. ‘My lady, to torture a man before killing him is usually done to extract something that it is believed he knows, or to inflict maximum punishment before the death blow.’
    She nodded. Putting out a hand, she let her fingertips rest on the dead man’s shoulder in the lightest of touches. ‘Did he bear an awesome secret?’ she said softly. ‘Or had he done a wicked deed?’
    Not sure whether the question was rhetorical – he would have had no answer even if it were not – Josse held his silence. After a moment, the Abbess said, ‘If indeed this man is your John Damianos, then we know he was going out secretly by night. He fled once his nocturnal habits were known. Were those not, Sir Josse, the actions of a fugitive with something to hide?’
    â€˜Aye, my lady.’
    â€˜Then we must assume that those