Free The Cross Legged Knight by Candace Robb Page B

back him in the guild. I look forward to the day when my boys are big enough to help him. God forgive me for complaining, he is as good a husband as most, all in all. God go with you, Lucie, Jasper.’ She had headed for the door, her beaded leather girdle jingling as she walked unevenly with the load.
    Lucie pressed the scrap of girdle to her heart. Owen’s scrip dropped to the floor, spilling the rest of the contents.
    The bed creaked. ‘Lucie?’
    ‘You said you did not know her.’
    Owen sat up. ‘Who?’
    ‘The beaded girdle. It was in the fire. Was it on the woman they took from the undercroft?’
    ‘One of the men found it on the ground. He thought it had fallen from her when they carried her from the fire. Do you recognize it?’
    ‘You do not?’
    ‘No. Tell me.’
    ‘You saw this every day after my accident.’
    Owen was shaking his head. He had the look on his face she had come to know all too well of late. He would speak softly to her now, trying not to anger her, attempting to reason with her.
    ‘It is Cisotta’s girdle,’ she said, speaking before he had the chance, ‘the one Eudo made for her.’
    ‘Cisotta?’
    She watched him take it in, realize what it meant toher. He threw aside the bedding and hurried to her, kneeling as she knelt. He reached to pull her into his arms.
    She resisted. She did not want comfort. ‘Did you see her?’
    ‘Lucie, I am so sorry. But I did not know. I could not –’ he stopped himself.
    He need not have. She heard the rest of it – it echoed in the room as loudly as if he had shouted it. ‘She is that badly burned?’
    ‘Aye,’ he whispered, looking down at his hands. ‘But it is worse than that.’
    ‘Did you not recognize the bright blue of her dress?’
    ‘What was not burned was smeared with mud and ashes. I swear I have never seen the beaded girdle.’
    Lucie looked down at the belt that had fallen from the scrip. It, too, had been in the fire, but it was not familiar. She reached down.
    ‘Do not touch that.’ Owen did not use the gentle voice meant to soothe her. He sounded edgy and hoarse from the fire and lack of sleep.
    ‘What did you mean, worse than that?’ She joined him on the bed, shook her head at the wine he proffered. ‘What did you keep from me last night? What happened to Cisotta?’
    ‘I have told only Thoresby, Wykeham, and Magda. You must speak of this to no one else, not Jasper, not Phillippa –’
    ‘You have never hesitated to tell me anything before.’
    He said nothing.
    ‘I swear I shall tell no one.’
    ‘She was murdered, Lucie. The belt on the floor – it had been tightened round her neck, the buckle pressed into her throat.’
    Lucie touched her own neck as she looked down at the belt that had fallen from the scrip. She took the wine now, let it course down her throat. It burned. She shivered. ‘Then she did not die in the fire.’
    ‘I do not think she could have yet been breathing.’
    She did not know which would be the more terrifying way to die, to have such a thing cut off the air, to feel the belt tightening, or to choke on smoke, feel the searing pain of the heat on the skin. The wine soured in her stomach. Holding her hand to her mouth, she rushed to the window, pushed open the shutters and leaned out, breathing in the damp, chilly air.
    Owen followed, put his arms round her, drawing her from the window.
    Meddling man, could he not see she needed air? She turned in his arms. ‘That man in our kitchen, the man I nursed last night – do you think he did that to Cisotta?’
    ‘I do not know.’
    ‘You describe her burns as much worse than his.’
    ‘He lay by the door.’
    ‘Who, then?’
    ‘That is what we must discover. Come back to bed. It is cold here by the window.’
    He was shivering, standing there naked, his hair tousled. There was a time when they would not have stood there long, but would have tumbled back into bed for lovemaking.
    ‘Go back to bed, then.’
    ‘It is early yet. You fall