Free The Falconer's Knot by Mary Hoffman Page A

to him on the way to Assisi and Silvano remembered how much it had meant to him. He wanted to go and find Anselmo now and reassure him.
    The Colour Master did not seem to have a reason to kill or even dislike the visiting merchant, other than remarking he had drunk too much wine. But that was no reason to stab a man! Still, Silvano remembered that Anselmo had looked startled when he heard the merchant’s name. And he had behaved oddly at supper. Silvano hadn’t seen him since their brief meeting outside his cell the night before and he couldn’t help wondering where Anselmo had been.
    ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’ the Abbot was asking.
    ‘No, Father,’ said Silvano, feeling calmer now. Brother Anselmo would tell the Abbot everything, he was sure.

    Isabella was out when the messenger arrived from Giardinetto. It was a fine, sunny morning and although it was early she wanted to be out of the house and down at the market with her cook. She always had a restless feeling when Ubaldo was away. The sense of freedom was wonderful but always tinged by sadness, because it was an illusion. Her husband would be back.
    So it was with dragging steps that she returned to the grand house. Its master would not actually be home yet but his return hung like a cloud over the fine morning. It was especially at times like these that Isabella wondered how she would endure the rest of her days. She needed to see her children; that would cheer her heart.
    But there was a strange, still atmosphere in the house. It was unnaturally quiet. The children should have been up by now and making a noise. And the servants should have been bustling about their daily tasks. The man who opened the door cast his mistress a sympathetic look and her heart quickened. Something was wrong.
    Isabella’s maid hurried up to her. ‘Madama,’ she said.
    ‘Are the children all right?’ asked Isabella, her lips so stiff she could scarcely form the words.
    ‘Perfectly well and safe,’ said the maid. ‘Have no fear on their account. But there is a messenger in the salon, from Giardinetto. He would speak with you.’
    Isabella braced herself for whatever news she was about to receive. ‘Has this messenger been brought refreshment?’ she asked calmly.
    ‘I will see to it immediately.’
    Isabella moved slowly towards the salon, removing her cap and smoothing her hair. Although her mind was a whirl, she sensed that what awaited her in that room was about to change her life for ever.

    ‘Come with me,’ said Sister Eufemia, abruptly to Chiara and Paola. ‘The Abbot has sent for some sisters to prepare the body for burial. You can come and help me.’
    Paola looked as horrified as Chiara felt. A man who had been a warm, living, breathing person was now a corpse – and one who bore on him the marks of a violent death. Yet even as she recoiled at the idea, Chiara also felt a strange fascination. And, besides, this was a chance to see inside the friars’ house.
    The three sisters crossed the short distance to the friary and Sister Eufemia announced their arrival to the man at the gate. The Abbot himself came to meet them.
    ‘Sisters in Christ,’ he said, looking tired and grey. ‘It is good of you to come. I trust the task will not be too much for you?’ His eyes flickered towards Chiara.
    ‘Not at all, Father,’ said Sister Eufemia. ‘I think you know Sister Paola and this is our new novice, Sister Orsola.’
    Chiara bent her head dutifully but really to hide the flash of anger she always felt when that name was used. Would she ever get used to it? The Abbot led them to the upper floor of the friars’ house, where the individual cells for the senior brothers were. There was a lay brother standing guard outside one of them.
    The Abbot signalled for him to stand aside and, as he did, another friar came along the corridor.
    ‘Welcome, Sisters,’ he said. ‘I shall accompany you.’
    ‘Brother Rufino,’ acknowledged Eufemia. ‘These