“‘Help us cut the poor woman down!’ While Sir Maurice held the corpse, Sir John sawed through the rope. The body was laid on the bed. Athelstan leaned down, noting that the face was swollen and purple, the tongue protruding, the eyes darkening, all beauty and grace spoilt by her violent death throes. Athelstan, heavy-hearted, whispered into the poor girl’s ears the Act of Contrition followed by the words of absolution. He heard a squeaking in the corner and, without thinking, picked up a pot whi...ch lay on the table and flung it angrily at the rat scurrying there. As he loosened the noose knot, the body, now stiffening, trembled a little. He brushed back the hair and tried to close the eyes but they remained half-open, gazing sightlessly upwards. He took a rag from the wash bowl, carefully wiped the woman’s mouth and chin then glanced round. The taverner and his daughter, goodly folks, stood in the doorway. ‘It’s not your fault,’ Athelstan said. ‘Where’s the woman’s baggage?’ The taverner opened a coffer at the foot of the bed and brought out a pair of saddlebags.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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