Vengeance 03 - Believe In Me (16 page)

She sobered. “What is it?”

“The bishop
is not the man he seems. His cruelty knows no bounds. I worry for your safety.”

“Tell me
of it,” she said. Her lack of surprise made him wonder if she knew more than he’d expected.

He shared the story they’d learned, from the breaking of the child’s fingers to the forking of the man’s tongue. Her
shock surpassed his.

“
Nay! I can’t believe that could be true.” Cristiana spun away to pace a short distance then returned. “Are you certain? Have you no doubt as to the truth of those events?”

“
None. You’ve seen no evidence of this behavior from him?” he asked.

“
Nothing of that sort, though he’s not the kindest man. While I have my suspicions of his involvement in my mother’s death, to hear he is capable of such behavior from someone who endured it...” She shook her head. “He presented me with a child to heal, but he was sick, not hurt.”

Anger filled William. “He insisted you heal?”

“The tanner’s boy was ill. Oh, I nearly forgot. Once the boy had recovered, he acted very frightened of the bishop.”

“Perhaps word has spread of the incident, at least among the children.”

“I’m certain you have the right of it.”

“Cristiana, if the bishop made you heal once
—”

She raised her hand to halt his comment. “
I told him the next day that I would not perform on demand.”

“And how did he take that
news?”

“He seemed to understand and even apologized for it.
That’s why I’m surprised with what you shared.”

Somehow,
the bishop acting remorseful didn’t reassure William in the least. He glanced around to make sure no one could overhear. “Cristiana, I don’t trust him. You were right all along. You shouldn’t stay there any longer.”

“Where would I go?”

“We will find a safe place for you.”

She dropped her gaze as though thinking over his suggestion. “I appreciate your concern, but I have learned several things about my mother since my arrival, and I’m
convinced I will find out more...perhaps information that will lead me to the person who murdered her.”

“That’s the last thing you should seek. It is far too dangerous.” William
hadn’t expected her to refuse, not when she hadn’t wanted to come to the bishop’s to begin with.

She met his gaze, her chin lifted. “I have to try.”

“There has to be another way. We’ll find someone who can aid us. Someone close to the bishop.”

“Who?
Everyone at the cathedral seems loyal to him.”

William ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of some way to convince her.
“What of Father Charles? He seemed to be a reasonable man.”

“He’s left Longsbury.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “He
only said that he and the bishop had a difference of opinion. He was very agitated when I last saw him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed a
good man.”

“William?” He looked down at her, the heat in her gaze catching his breath. “I am very glad you’re back.
” She rose to press a kiss on his lips.

Warmth rushed through him at her gesture. H
is hands rose of their own accord to cup her cheeks, holding her in place a moment longer. “I missed you.”

“And I as well,” she whispered. “I had best get back to Sister Mawde before she raises the alarm.”

“Please consider what I’ve said. I am no longer certain you are safe there.”

She bit her lip,
her expression worried, convincing him she’d had the same fear. “I will be careful but this may be my only chance to find out what happened to my mother.”

“He’ll make you
heal again.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. I can refuse though.”

“But you won’t.” He traced the edge of her jaw, marveling at the softness of her skin even as he was frustrated by her.

She smiled sadly. “How do you know me so well?”

“Henry and I are staying here for a few days. We’ll be nearby if you need us, but we are holding the relic in case we need leverage.”

“Leverage for what?”

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

“You had better go. Henry sees something.”

With one last glance at him, she pulled up her hood and moved around the corner, quickly disappearing into the crowded street.

“Where is she going?” Henry asked
as he came to William’s side. “Isn’t she coming with us?”

“Nay.”
William shook his head. “She’s certain she can learn more about her mother’s murder by staying with the bishop.”

“But
—”

“I know.” Wi
lliam shared a look with Henry.

“Women.
Nothing but trouble.” Henry stood, hands on hips as he surveyed the crowd. “Now what?”

“The bishop will soon start looking for us.”

“True. What do you suggest?”

“We won’t be able to hide for long. Let us find some place we can retreat to if need be.
A place close enough to be within reach, but out of sight.”

“
Not an easy task.” Henry raised his brow. “I assume that means you’re not willing to leave the lady or Longsbury? Your brother, Nicholas, would surely be glad to see us.”

“
We’re not going anywhere. I may not have Nicholas’s second sight, but I believe the lady will have need of us soon. Very soon.”

***

Cristiana was chilled to the bone but her heart was light. She removed her dripping cloak with the aid of a servant who took it away to dry. The drizzle had become a deluge as she and Sister Mawde had made their way back to the manor. The nun sought their chamber to don dry clothing but before Cristiana could follow her, she heard her name called.

“Where have you been?”

She turned in surprise to find the bishop glaring at her from the entrance to his private chamber. Father Markus stood behind him, his hands clasped before him. Her heart raced as she thought of what William had told her.

“I accompanied Sister Mawde to the baker’s.” She reminded h
erself it was mostly the truth.

“Why?” His tone was accusatory.

“Is something amiss?” She found his interest in her whereabouts concerning.

“From now on, I will be advised of your
location at all times. You are not to leave the manor unless I approve it.”

“While I appreciate your concern, I don’t believe that is necessary. I will have an appropriate person accompany
me if I venture from the manor.” She felt certain that if she gave in on this issue, he would soon try to rule every moment of her day.

“That is not acceptable. I am your gu
ardian, and as such, I insist.”

She said nothing, merely smiled
, as he so often did. She refused to give her agreement to such a request.

“Do you understand?” He moved forward to stand before her, his anger
visible in the set lines of his pale face and the thinness of his lips.

Father Markus took a step forward as well.
She glared at the priest, her dislike for him growing.

“Nay, I do not. I am a woman grown, not a child. I w
ill fill my days as I see fit.”

His blue eyes lit with
rage and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hand clench into a fist. Surely he wouldn’t strike her.

The image of him breaking that little boy’s fingers filled her mind. Fear trickled down the back of her throat and she realized she’d gone too far. But what choice had he left her?

“Cristiana,” he said with an attempt to speak calmly. “I only wish to keep you safe from harm.”

His smile was more alarming than his anger
. She had to make him realize she would not bow to his every command. “I appreciate your concern but it is unnecessary.”

“Oh but it is. Father
Daniel will assist you in determining your schedule each day and advise me of it.”

“Bishop Duval
—”

“We have m
ore weighty matters to discuss,” he interrupted her. “Come with me.”

Dread filled her at his tone. She swallowed hard, fearing she’d made a mistake by not accompanying William while she’d had the chance.

William stared at the flames of the fire in the alehouse but saw only Cristiana. He couldn’t believe he’d had to let her go. Every bone in his body told him it had been a mistake. She might not be in danger now, but she would be soon.

He was certain of it.

How could he have missed that streak of cruelty when he’d first met the bishop? He was normally an excellent judge of character, a skill that had been formed in his childhood, growing up with Nicholas. He’d gotten in the habit of evaluating each person who came into their lives to see if they intended any harm to his brother. Apparently his judgment had been dulled when he’d nearly died.

While the bishop could not be described as kind, it had never occurred to William that he
’d be ruthless. He rubbed his hand over his face then took a long draught of ale.

For
what seemed like the hundredth time, he asked himself why he’d been given a second chance in this world. He’d convinced himself that serving Bishop Duval would pay back God for the gift he’d been given but hadn’t deserved.

But that was not true and he could no longer pretend it was.

“William, you think overmuch.” Henry refilled William’s cup from the jug before them.

He raised a brow
at his friend. “How do you know I’m thinking?”

“When are you not? Most men can sit before a fire with a cup of ale
in hand and their mind completely empty. But not you.”

William smiled. Henry did not share his desire to understand what his purpose in life was.
He insisted he already knew: to fight, to drink, and to love. In that order.

“I think
—” Henry started.

“I thought you were opposed to that.”

Henry glared at him before continuing, “That you are missing your true purpose when it’s under your very nose.”

He studied his cup as a
dawning awareness spread over him. “I’m supposed to save Cristiana. That is why I’m here at this moment.”

Henry sat back.
“Exactly. It makes perfect sense.”

“But she won’t let me.”

“Since when have you let someone else set your course?”

William scowled.
“Never. At least not when I’ve had a choice.”

Henry
took a long sip. “Why else have we been put in her path?”

“
I think you have the right of it, Henry.” Something deep inside him eased as the notion sunk in.

“
Of course I do.” Henry touched his cup to William’s. “That’s why you and I work so well together. I’m here to point out the obvious when you start thinking.”

William chuckled. Trust his friend to speak the trut
h. “Now we only have to determine how to rescue the lady when she doesn’t want to be rescued.”

“I leave that in your capable hands,” Henry said as he rose. “
My work here is done. There’s a game of dice calling my name.”

William’s thoughts continue
d to circle as he watched Henry approach a table of men playing dice. As he already knew, Cristiana was a determined lady. When she set her mind to something, it was difficult to stop her.

What could he
say or do to convince her to leave?

***

Cristiana followed the bishop into his chamber and Father Markus closed the door behind them. Three others waited in the chamber, all strangers.

As she looked
at them, her stomach dropped to her knees.

One was a thin
woman, her roughly woven clothing marked her as a peasant. Another was a young priest with a faint sheen on his forehead, his face pale. The last was a ragged young girl, her clothes consisting of strips of cloth tied together, brown eyes too large for her thin face.

All
looked ill.

“What is this?”
She spun to face the bishop, afraid she already knew the answer.

“A simple test.
We must better understand your abilities before we can proceed with our plans,” the bishop explained. He spoke as though they’d already agreed upon them.

“What plans?”

“We’ll discuss the details later. Now tell me which of these people you’d pick to heal.”

“What?” She
looked again at the three strangers, unable to believe what he was asking of her.

“Pick. From what you said earlier, I understand you can’t heal all of them, so
who would you help?”

“I couldn’t possibly choose.” Cristiana was
horrified at the situation in which he’d put her. A sick feeling built in her stomach and bile threatened the back of her throat. Never had she been put in such an impossible predicament.

He frowned. “That’s unfortunate. You’d send all of them away just so you wouldn’t have to make a difficult decision?”

She stared at him, wondering if he were mad. Why else would he ask this of her? She thought they’d come to an understanding about what she would and wouldn’t do, but obviously she’d underestimated his cruelness. Not only was this not fair to her, it wasn’t fair to the poor souls standing before her.

“
Perhaps you need additional information to aid you,” he said with that terrible smile of his. He stepped forward and gestured toward the woman, careful not to touch her. “This is Mary. She’s been feeling poorly for over a fortnight, is that right?”

Mary
nodded, her hazel eyes huge in her thin face. Tears filled her eyes. “Please help me, my lady. I have four children and I need to be better so I can work. We’re runnin’ out of food already and winter is comin’.”

The woman’s plea squeezed Cristiana’s heart.

The bishop nodded and gestured toward the priest. “This is Robert. He is new to the diocese.”

The sick priest bowed his head and smiled weakly. “Pay me no mind, my lady. These other two are more worthy of your
...skills.”

“Now, Robert, that’s not true. How can you care for the people in your church if you are ill
, or worse, dead?”

The priest seemed to grow even paler
at the bishop’s words but said nothing more.

The bishop gestured to the small girl.
“I’ve forgotten your name, child.”

She looked up at him dully. “Rebecca. May I go now?”
Her voice was raspy.

“Tell the lady what’s wrong,” the bishop bid her.

The poor child acted as if blinking was difficult let alone speaking. She coughed hard, swaying slightly and Cristiana reached out to steady her.

“Nay.”
Bishop Duval grabbed her hand before she could aid the little girl. “No touching until you decide whom to heal.”

She stared at him in disbelief. Surely this was some sort of
malicious jest on his part.

“Well?” he asked impatiently. “You can’t keep these sick people waiting. Who will it be?”

“I can’t possibly choose. They are all worthy of healing.”

“Excellent. That is what I was hoping you would say. Let us try something.” He gestured
for them to come forward. “Hold on to Lady Cristiana. Hold her arm or her hand. Nay, not her clothing, you must touch her person.”

None took her hand, but instead held her arm or shoulder. The woman and the little girl looked at her with hopeful eyes, but the priest seemed embarrassed to touch her.

“I’m sorry,” she told the three ill people then turned to the bishop, a mixture of anger and hopelessness filling her. “It doesn’t work this way.”

The woman squeezed tighter
as she started to cry.

“I think you need only try harder, Cristiana,” the bishop said.
Keeping his distance from the sick people, he put his own hand on her shoulder. “I will pray for you as you heal.”

Cristiana watched as his eyes closed and his lips began to move. She waited a long moment, but felt nothing. She knew
what she needed to do, how it worked for her. There was no other way. And she also knew she could not heal multiple people at one time.

Yet what to do now?
How could she choose only one?

Ignoring the bishop, she told the three, “I will do what I can, but you may have to come back on the morrow. My skills are not that strong.”

“Silence!” the bishop commanded. “Do not interrupt a prayer!”

“I meant no offense.
Please continue,” she told him as she removed his hand from her shoulder, “but do not place your hand on me.”

His blue eyes narrowed. She turned her back on his anger. His touch distracted her and she needed
all the focus she could gather.

She took the woman’s hands into her own. “You have others who depend on you, so let
me help you first.”

“Oh, thank you ever so much, my lady,” the woman
whispered with tears in her eyes.

“Cristiana
—”

She ignored the bishop and continued to speak to Mary.
“I cannot promise anything. I will try my best and see if it aids you.” She pursed her lips, wondering if she could request a favor in return. “I would ask that you not speak of what happened in this room. I cannot help everyone. In fact, I can only help a few.”

“Cristiana, if you would
do it my way—” the bishop began.

“I
tried but to no avail. I’ll use my method instead.”

As the bishop sputtered in protest, she bid
Mary to sit on the bench, then touched her shoulders, proceeding along her body, asking the woman questions to at last find the problem near her stomach.

The woman trembled beneath her fingers,
sobbing as Cristiana worked. When it was done, Cristiana sank to the bench, much weakened from her efforts.

“Thank you ever so much, my lady,” she said as she continued to cry.
“I mean no offense, but I must ask. Are you a witch?”

Cristiana
shook her head, already exhausted. “I am not,” she whispered, wishing she could say it more firmly.

The young priest made the sign of the cross on his chest, not meeting her gaze.

“I am not.” She said it with more conviction this time.

“I must insist
—” the bishop began.

She
held up her hand, palm out, to hold off whatever he intended to say so she could rest a moment. He jerked back as he stared in alarm at her hand. Did he think something would shoot out at him? For a brief moment, she wondered if he feared her ability. All she knew was that his words would be of little help.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough, but let us try you next, Rebecca,” she said.

The little girl’s eyes grew wide with fear as she shuffled forward. “Will it hurt much?”

“Nay.
It won’t hurt at all.”

“Then why is she crying?” Rebecca eyed Mary warily.

“I’m just so pleased,” Mary said with a watery smile. “I feel much better. I can’t hardly believe it.”

“Come sit by me,” Cristiana said
to Rebecca, offering a smile despite her tiredness.

The little girl
eased up on the bench and took Cristiana’s hand. “’Tis all right. I will help you.”

Cristiana couldn’t help but smile at her earnest expression. “Thank you. Now let me see where the problem is.”

“Here.” Rebecca took both her hands and put them on her chest. “Right here is the worst of it.”

Cristiana
felt heat and a wheezing sensation with each breath she drew. The little girl was right.

“Tell me what to do, please,” Rebecca
whispered, her gaze steady on Cristiana’s. “I would help you, my lady.”

“Draw a nice deep breath.” But that small request seemed too much for her as it brought on a fit of coughing. Cristiana took advantage of it and with each cough, pulled out the illness until her
own lungs burned. The shallowness of her breath took her aback, causing a moment of panic.

“Stay calm, my lady,” Rebecca told her. “
When I get upset, it grows much worse. Take little breaths.”

Cristiana
took her advice and tried to quell the fear. Soon the feeling eased and she was able to draw a deep breath. “Thank you,” Cristiana said.

“Nay, ’tis I who thank you.”
Color returned to Rebecca’s face and a look of wonder came over her. “I feel better already. It didn’t hurt at all.”

“I’m so glad
. You’re very brave,” Cristiana said, meaning every word. Exhaustion slipped over her, pulling her down. She turned to the priest. “I’m afraid I must ask if you’d return on the morrow, Father.”

Her world darkened, narrowed.
Then she remembered nothing else.

***

William paced back and forth behind the potter’s, his patience gone. For two days now, he’d sent Aldwin to deliver a message to Cristiana but with no success. William was beside himself with worry.