Free The Eloquence of Blood by Judith Rock Page A

giving you lasts beyond the beginning of the rhetoric and grammar classes on Monday, I will tell Père Pallu that you will be absent for a time. But you will continue working on the February performance with Père Jouvancy. If a few assignments take longer in Père Pallu’s class, that is a small matter. But the performance date is set and cannot be altered. Père Jouvancy needs you at every rehearsal. Meanwhile, you have today, tomorrow, and Sunday to do what I am asking. I want you to discover and tell me everything possible about what the police uncover. Facts won’t stop the mudslinging, but facts will help me decide what actions to take. Or not take. For my part,” he went on grimly, “I am going to get from our idiot notary Monsieur Henri Brion everything he knows about this affair, if I have to go through his sluggish brain with a soup ladle. Before you returned, I sent a lay brother with a message demanding Brion’s presence immediately after dinner. With the girl’s death, he should at least be more willing to speak to me freely about this donation . After I hear what he has to tell, I will send a report to Père La Chaise at Versailles.”
    â€œAnd he will speak to the king for us?” The Jesuit Père La Chaise was King Louis’s confessor.
    â€œIf need be, yes.”
    A flurry of knocking came suddenly at the door.
    Startled, Le Picart called, “Come!”
    Two lay brothers entered, the older one holding the younger by the arm. The younger man, wrapped in a snow-spattered cloak, had a swiftly blackening eye. His bloodied hand was pressed to the side of his face. Le Picart rose from his chair and hurried around the desk.
    â€œFrère Guiscard, what has happened to you?”
    Charles recognized the older brother as Frère Martin, who often served as postern keeper.
    â€œI would have taken him to Frère Brunet, mon père ,” Martin said, “but I thought you ought to hear this as soon as might be.”
    â€œI went to the Brion house, mon père , as you told me to,” Guiscard said, wincing as he talked. “Monsieur Brion was out and no one seemed to know when he’d be home. So I left your message for him and started back. As I was crossing the Place Maubert, two men came at me. They started throwing fists and yelling about Jesuits and saying I’d killed some girl! Crazy, they seemed, mon père !”
    â€œLet me see the side of your face.”
    Guiscard let his hand drop and Charles, who had also stood up, saw that the brother’s cheek was badly cut and bruised. Le Picart picked up Guiscard’s hands and turned them over, revealing equally bloody knuckles.
    â€œI couldn’t let them beat me to a pâté , mon père ,” Guiscard said reasonably. “Since I hadn’t done any of what they said.”
    â€œHave Frère Brunet see to your hands as well as your face. Did you know the two men?”
    Guiscard shook his head. “I think one was an apprentice, but the other was older. I didn’t know them.”
    â€œDid anyone else see what happened?”
    â€œI don’t know, mon père . It was snowing hard and when I got clear, I ran.”
    Le Picart nodded. “I am glad your hurts are no worse, mon frère . Frère Martin, please see him to the infirmary.”
    When the lay brothers were gone, Le Picart sank into his chair again, pressed clasped hands against his lips, and closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Charles sat down and waited, not sure whether the rector was praying or simply deploring what had happened.
    â€œSo it has started.” Le Picart let his hands drop and looked up. “And as soon as the shorter vacation is over and we have day students coming and going in the streets, it’s going to get worse. Much worse.” He glanced at the black, one-handed clock on the side table. “If Henri Brion does not come to me this afternoon, you will