The Sanctity of Hate by Priscilla Royal Read Free Book Online Page A

well. In silence he complained to God, protesting that He should never have created Eve. That apple aside, Adam’s life would have been far less complicated without her.
    The question always came down to this: why would Gytha want to join with such a rough man as he? She was tender- hearted; he had grown cynical. Although he had some wealth, she could find merchants with softer ways and more coin than he. In short, he had nothing to offer, apart from one promise never take her away from the village she loved and another to worship the earth wherever she set her feet.
    Maybe she would consent if he phrased his plea as a kindness to his daughter, a child she loved as much as if she had borne Sibely herself. But his throat went dry when he tried to ask and the words died in his mouth. Another opportunity would pass. He feared Gytha would flee if he told her how much he loved her, and his daughter would lose the warmth of the maid’s love. He did not dare chance that.
    But today he had intended an innocent outing with Gytha. All he had planned to do was carry her basket while she shopped for Prioress Eleanor’s table. Oh, he had hoped to surprise her with a small gift as well, but only to thank her for the happiness she brought his daughter. At no point would he even hint at how much joy her company brought him too.
    He growled like a cornered dog. Instead of an enjoyable afternoon, he had a murder to solve, and a popular one at that. Gytha’s pleasant image fled his soul, replaced by that of a butchered corpse.
     
    He knew no one would cooperate and could already hear the village response to his queries: “’Twas a stranger that did it, Crowner! I swear I saw him, dagger in hand, running down the road. Why did I not stop him? Do you think me daft? He had a knife! Do I remember how he looked? Maybe short. Brown hair, perhaps light, nay, dark…”
    Ralf cursed. Now he must talk with the Jewish family and decide if their quarrel with Kenelm was sharp enough for a killing. And the wife was close to giving birth? He did not like this situation at all.
    Then he remembered he had offered to loan the innkeeper his sergeant to guard this family. His spirit instantly brightened. He could leave the inquiry of them to Cuthbert!
    As if called in answer to his prayer, the sergeant walked around the corner from the inn. Ralf began to smile, then felt his stomach fill with fire. Either the man’s grim expression meant something unpleasant, or else that last jack of ale he had drunk with the innkeeper had been unwise.
    Cuthbert raised a hand in greeting. “Brother Beorn met me on the road and sent news you must hear.”
    Ralf grunted.
    “Brother Gwydo and Brother Thomas found blood that suggests Kenelm was killed on priory grounds.”
    Kicking a stone with such force that it almost hit a passing villager in the back, Ralf uttered a colorful oath.
    “Need I continue looking upstream? I have found nothing of value and…”
    “I have another task for you, one that will better merit your time.” Looking back at the inn, Ralf wondered how much of that good ale was still left. As he considered the implications of this new information, the prospect of another jug of the inn’s finest regained appeal. “As for the priory, I had hoped not to trouble them with this death.”
    “Prioress Eleanor also sent word that she would meet with you and shall assist as much as possible.”
     
    “Which means she will investigate the matter herself if she suspects the involvement of any of her religious.”
    Cuthbert nodded, his expression wisely void of meaning. “I will seek an audience with her later,” Ralf said. At least
    the visit might bring him a moment with Gytha. “Come.” He put a hand on his sergeant’s shoulder and aimed him along the path leading to the partially completed stables behind the inn.
    As they rounded the corner of the building, however, they came to an abrupt halt.
    A young man knelt in front of the unfinished stable,