“I am not that sort of friend,” he insisted.
“Be at ease, Crispin. They know who you are.”
“How did you find me?”
“Well!” said John. “After you told me”—his eyes took in his companions and he lowered his voice—“what you told me, I couldn’t let it lie. It took about three heartbeats for me to get dressed and rush out the door. I followed you to the potter’s row and then I saw that man hit you.” He reached tentatively for Crispin’s nose but Crispin batted his hand away. “It’s not broken, praise God. You have a perfect nose, I’ll have you know. It’s a shame you keep bruising it.”
“John! Get on with it.”
“So I fell back and followed as they dragged you off. Here, in fact.”
Crispin looked back at the ramshackle stable.
“And then I gathered my friends to assist me. I promised those whoresons in the inn a fight in the hope they would help. But we rescued you anyway!” His voice became shrill with delight.
“God be praised,” Crispin mumbled.
He allowed John to take him back to his lodgings. John’s friends bid their farewells and left Crispin and Rykener to climb the steps to his room alone. Once inside, Rykener gave Crispin a basin and a jug of icy water. He washed the blood from his face and assessed the damage.
“You’ll be bruised right well,” said John, tsking and peering far too close at Crispin’s face. “You’ll have two black eyes for a few days, but you are whole at least.”
“Thanks to you and your friends. I hope . . . I was not too rude to them.”
“They can forgive a great deal because you call yourself my friend.” He patted Crispin and brushed off his tabard, eyeing it but saying nothing. “Who were those cowardly men who captured you?”
“I am uncertain exactly who they are, but I have my suspicions.” Thoughts like fallen leaves tumbled in his mind. Odo, the Jews, the Golem, and a murderer. But foremost in his mind, though it shouldn’t have been, was Julian.
He cleared his throat. “Well, I did have some unfinished business before I was waylaid. I must get back to Westminster.”
“Is that where your interesting problem is?” he asked with a wink in his voice.
Crispin actually smiled at that. “Yes, and I must hurry to him to discuss the matter forthwith.”
“Oh!” John was so shocked he failed to follow Crispin to the door. But he awoke in time to clutch the jamb as Crispin passed through it. “Godspeed! I expect a full report.”
“You shall be the first to know,” he said over his shoulder as he trotted down the steps two at a time.
He knew he should be on the trail of the murderer and, better still, the man from the carriage, though that trail was presently ice cold. It was a confusing hash of facts. Was this Odo the one who bought the clay? It did not sound like it. If he did not create a Golem, then why did he so desire these parchments?
In fact, there was much to absorb, from the fact that Berthildus was another secret Jew to this Odo they were so afraid of. Yet if Odo was this mysterious man who was apparently welcomed at Westminster, then he did not know that Berthildus and Middleton were secret Jews. Or did he? The pieces to this puzzle were baffling and out of sorts. The devil was behind it, the stranger insisted, and it had to be so. For what could bring such opposing persons together but the Tempter himself?
Was this Odo working with the Church or was he merely a madman that the Jews were trying to control, as Middleton had said? He
Who was he trying to fool? Crispin was at Westminster to see Julian. He could no longer deny it.
He passed through the Great Gate at Westminster Palace, determined to find the lad. He had much to say before he moved on with his investigation. Much indeed.
Passing through the Great Hall, he skirted trunks and furniture. Clearly court was ready to take its leave to the country for Christmas. All of the court would be going, except for Radulfus. That warmed Crispin’s heart. The man intended to admit himself to the king’s party. Good luck to him! Good luck to them both!
Down the corridors he went, barely mindful to keep his face down. He passed Bill Wodecock and he was damned if the man did not turn toward him with a disapproving scowl. Crispin did not acknowledge him. Better that way. Instead, he followed the winding passageway to the queen’s rooms and beyond to where the Jews resided. With any luck, the physician’s son would be alone.
The way was deserted. He reached the door at the end of the corridor and knocked. The boy answered it and fell back from the door, wide-eyed. Before he recovered and slammed the door in Crispin’s face, Crispin took a hold of it and forced it open. When he entered the room, he slammed it closed. Searching over the boy’s shoulder, he saw that they were, indeed, alone.
“Now then,” said Crispin.
Julian held his hands out, trying to fend him off. The bruise on his jaw was somewhat satisfying. “Forgive me!
Crispin loosened his hold on one arm and clutched the boy’s chin, causing Julian to wince. His eyes slid over the abrupt planes and angles of cheek and jaw, sliding further to that long, smooth neck.
So it was true. The feelings that threatened before suddenly erupted within him. The confusion, the crossed emotions, the anger. It all made sense to him now. He felt his heart thrumming, his breath quickening, and a distinct tightening in his groin. How could such a thing excite him?
By all the saints. He hoped he wasn’t about to make an arse of himself.
Slowly, he lowered his face until he could feel Julian’s rasping breath against his chin. “Tell me something,” he said, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “The truth now.”
Julian opened his lips. “What?” It was not so much a word as a breath. His eyes locked on Crispin’s.
Crispin leaned further, his nose almost touching the other.
“Tell me . . . are you . . . a woman?”
Was it relief he saw in her eyes? She said nothing and the merest of smiles began at the edges of her swollen mouth. She nodded.
“God be praised,” he sighed. And then he leaned forward and closed his mouth hungrily over hers.
16
She tasted like exotic wine. His tongue traced her swollen, cracked lips and then he sucked, tasting a renewal of coppery blood. His hand left her arm and tucked beneath it, finding the swell of a bound breast. She was leaning her whole weight into him now, but when he cupped her breast, she sighed a soft moan.
He filled her mouth once more before he drew back a little, lips still teasing hers. “Tell me your name.”
“It is . . .
He smiled against her mouth, kissed her again, and nibbled his way across her cheek. He pulled her smaller body against his, feeling his stiffening groin come up against . . . nothing. He truly didn’t need further proof but it was nice to have it. “Ah,” he whispered to her soft skin. He ran his stubbled cheek against her smooth one before
