Free Cursed in the Blood: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery by Sharan Newman Page B

Hebrew colleagues has ever tried to convert me to their pernicious beliefs. Our dealings have solely concerned business of mutual benefit, to us and the abbey.”
    He glared at the bishop’s messenger, defying him to challenge him. The man only smiled.
    “Certainly,” he said. “But Bishop Stephen feels that there must have been some, quite innocent, action on your part that started this gossip. He requests that you search your memory for what it could be and report to him next week, so that he can assure the king and Abbot Suger of the solidity of your faith.”
    “He wants to see me?” Hubert repeated.
    “At your convenience.” The cleric smiled again.
    Hubert wished again that Catherine weren’t so far away. Her counsel would be useful in the coming week.
     
    Catherine wasn’t thinking of rhetorical arguments just then. Her thoughts concentrated on hot water and soap. They were greeted warmly by the monks at the hostel in Berwick. Catherine was relieved to find that a number of them were French or Norman so that she didn’t need someone to go through the tedious job of repeating everything. One of them offered to take the sack of used swaddling to a nearby laundress. Another offered her some strips of worn linen to make new. The sexes were separated at the hostel, so she and Willa settled gratefully into the bed provided in the women’s room, James snuggled warmly between them. Catherine closed her eyes. For the moment sleep was all that mattered. She felt the soft breath of her son upon her neck. Outside was an alien world. But here they were safe. The monsters could roar unhindered until the morning.
    Coming up only a moment later, Edgar found them all sound
asleep. He dropped the bags quietly on the wooden floor and resisted the temptation to find his own bed. His muscles ached; his eyes were red from staring into the wind and sun. He wanted to sleep for a month. Instead he went back down to the dining hall, where Robert and Æthelræd sat and waited for him. A little apart from them Solomon had joined two of the French monks and was cautiously broaching the subject of the wool trade. Edgar sat next to his uncle.
    “How did you know to meet us here?” he asked without preliminaries. “We meant to land far south.”
    It was almost an accusation. Æthelræd smiled.
    “You know very well how,” he answered. “I’ve always been able to find you. It never bothered you until those clerics stuffed you full of theology.”
    Edgar was having none of that.
    “It always bothered me.” He frowned at the memory. “No matter where I hid, you always pulled me out and put me to work. I believed you could sniff me out like a wolf.”
    Æthelræd laughed. “Maybe I can. You stink now of fish and stale beer. Anyone could have found you.”
    “From Edinburgh?” Robert had never trusted this uncle.
    “Even from Orkney,” Æthelræd answered firmly. “Or maybe I heard of your coming from our cousins, the seals.”
    Edgar paled beneath his sunburn.
    “Don’t you start telling those stories around Catherine,” he warned. “I’ll not have her thinking we still believe those pagan tales.”
    Æthelræd laughed. “I never said we did, nephew. But there’s many who do. Your father seems to enjoy letting them think he’s not quite human.”
    Robert nodded. “He glories in anything that will increase his hold on the countryside. And I’m not always sure, myself, that there isn’t a touch of something in us. Grandmother used to say she knew when trouble threatened the family. I always thought you did, too, Uncle. Until our brothers went out to die alone and unprepared.”
    He gave Æthelræd an angry stare. Æthelræd set down his mug with a sigh.
    “You think I could have warned your brothers of their fate?” he asked. “They wouldn’t have listened. They never did.” He paused. “I was too far away, in any case. I only knew something was wrong
and God knows that’s nothing new in your father’s