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

and she opened it and ushered the old monk inside. She seated herself in her chair. ‘Now, Brother.’ She folded her hands inside the opposite sleeves of her habit and gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. He seemed to shrink in alarm so she relaxed her fierce expression a little. ‘What is the matter?’
    Eyeing her nervously, he hesitated and then said in a rush, ‘Three men have been here asking questions. They are brethren of the Order of Knights Hospitaller and wear the white cross upon breast or sleeve.’
    Her mind had leapt ahead as soon as Brother Firmin spoke his second sentence. Knights Hospitaller. Outremer. Returning knights and abandoned servants. Dead man with a secret. John Damianos.
    Brother Firmin was looking at her warily.
    â€˜Go on!’ she snapped. Then, instantly penitent, ‘I am sorry, Brother Firmin. Please excuse my impatience. These men were asking questions, you said?’
    â€˜Yes, my lady. They spoke to the monks and pilgrims down in the Vale, then like I say they came up here and spoke to the sisters in the refectory and the—’
    â€˜Yes, quite,’ she interrupted. ‘What did they want to know?’
    Brother Firmin’s eyes widened like a storyteller approaching the most dramatic point of his tale. ‘They’re after a runaway!’ he breathed.
    â€˜Really?’ She felt her own excitement rising. ‘From where and what has this man fled?’
    â€˜I cannot say, my lady,’ the old monk admitted, ‘save that the knights implied their chase had been most arduous and lengthy.’
    Had they trailed their quarry all the way from Outremer? she wondered. Was it likely that three warrior monks would follow a runaway all that distance? Was it even possible to dog a man’s footsteps for all those hundreds and hundreds of miles over both land and sea . . . ?
    â€˜They did say,’ Brother Firmin added darkly, ‘that the runaway was an English monk.’
    â€˜Did they?’ She was not sure why she was surprised. Wouldn’t it be the obvious thing, for an English fugitive to run for home? But then she realized that her surprise was because she was still obsessed with the body of the dark stranger: he, clearly, was no Englishman, and consequently she was now faced with the fact that her instant conclusion – that the runaway Knight Hospitaller was the man in her infirmary – could not be the right one. ‘I see,’ she finished lamely.
    Brother Firmin waited to see if she was going to speak again and when she did not, he ventured tentatively, ‘We all thought it was very strange, my lady.’
    â€˜What was?’
    â€˜That these men should creep about asking questions of just about everybody except for the person they ought to have approached.’ His frown expressed his disapproval. ‘They are vowed monks and they ought to know how such things are done.’
    â€˜You mean they should have asked me first?’
    â€˜Indeed they should, my lady! Why, we all assumed they had your permission to interview us! Had we known that this was not the case, we should have refused!’ His very body language spoke of his indignation. ‘I do hope that no harm has been done?’
    â€˜No, Brother; none at all.’ She got to her feet. ‘Do you know where they are now? Because I think it is about time that I too heard what they have to say.’
    The three Hospitallers, she discovered as she crossed the cloister with Brother Firmin panting along by her side, had found Josse. Or perhaps, she thought with a smile, Josse had found them. Either way, they were all standing in the lee of the long infirmary building and Josse appeared to be giving the oldest of the trio a considerable piece of his mind.
    â€˜. . . not the way things are done here, however you might carry on in Outremer. Here it is considered good manners to speak to the Abbess first, and