• Пожаловаться

Paul Doherty: The Straw Men

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Paul Doherty: The Straw Men» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. год выпуска: 2012, категория: Исторический детектив / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Paul Doherty The Straw Men

The Straw Men: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «The Straw Men»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

Paul Doherty: другие книги автора


Кто написал The Straw Men? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

The Straw Men — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «The Straw Men», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

‘Father,’ Crim the altar boy, kneeling on the steps beside him hissed. ‘Father, we should continue the Mass.’

‘Aye, we should!’ Athelstan’s strong declaration rang like a challenge across the sanctuary. He left the altar and strode over to Katherine Warde, holding his hands out for the baby.

‘Please?’ he whispered, ignoring the surprised murmuring from the rest of his parishioners.

Pernel the mad Fleming woman sprang to her feet, her thick, matted hair dyed with brilliant streaks of deep red and green. Ursula the pig woman also got up, as did her great lumbering sow; ears flapping, fleshy flanks quivering, the beast followed her everywhere, even into church. Both women were staring at their parish priest as if he had introduced some new rite into the Mass.

‘Please?’ Athelstan smiled at Katherine. ‘I need Odo now.’ He turned. ‘Ursula, Pernel, don’t get agitated, sit down.’ The mother handed the baby over. Athelstan hugged the warm little body, kissed him on the brow, then went over to confront his parishioners. ‘Our Mass will now continue,’ he declared loudly. Then, holding up the baby instead of the host and chalice as expected, Athelstan intoned, ‘Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world.’

‘He’s not the Lamb of God,’ Pike the ditcher’s sour-faced wife Imelda rasped, eyes glittering with malice, mouth twisted in scorn.

‘Yes, he is!’ Athelstan replied fiercely. ‘Behold the Lamb of God. Behold Him who takes away the sins of the world! If you,’ he continued hotly, ‘cannot see Christ in this little child, then do not look for him under the appearances of bread and wine. You are wasting your time, my time and, more importantly, God’s time. So get out of my church!’ Ursula and Pernel immediately sat down, as awestruck as the rest at the fierce temper of their usually serene parish priest. This little friar with his olive skin, dark, gentle eyes and eccentric ways now throbbed with anger. ‘If you cannot share the kiss of peace with your neighbour,’ Athelstan handed the baby back, thanking the mother with his eyes, ‘you are not welcome here.’ Athelstan moved back to the altar and stood there, his back to his parishioners. He heard movement. A stool scraped, a leaning rod clattered against the wall. When he turned round, Benedicta had risen and was sharing the kiss of peace with the Wardes. Others followed, including Ursula’s sow. The pig sniffed at the baby and then decided to bolt through the rood screen, lumbering down the nave to the front door, now flung open, the great bulk of Sir John Cranston, Lord Coroner of London, blocking the light. Athelstan murmured a prayer of thanks. Cranston slammed the door shut and strode up the nave, kicking aside the great sow, who always regarded the coroner as a close friend. Behind Cranston padded another self-appointed friend, Bonaventure, Athelstan’s sturdy, one-eyed tom cat, who always seemed to know when Mass was finishing and possible morsels were available from visiting parishioners.

‘Lord,’ Athelstan murmured, ‘give me patience!’ He nodded at Cranston, who stood just inside the rood screen, and continued with the Mass. He paused before the final blessing to announce that the parish council would not meet that morning but possibly tonight, once Mauger the bell clerk and council secretary had pealed the hour of Vespers. Athelstan then sketched the final blessing, declared the Mass over and swept into the sacristy. He divested, swiftly aware of Cranston standing behind him.

‘Good morrow, Sir John,’ he declared without turning. ‘You walk into my church like the Angel of the Second Coming. I am needed, yes? We are needed?’ Athelstan corrected himself. He turned and smiled at the white, bewhiskered face of the coroner, who just stared back, his great blue eyes full of sadness.

‘Happy feast day, Sir John. Saint Hilary bless us all. What is the matter?’

‘You are.’ Cranston clasped the friar’s outstretched hand. ‘I sense you are upset, Brother. The business of the Wardes, that new family? I received your message. I have whispered to the sheriffs and their underlings but they know little about them. I also approached Magister Thibault, Master of My Lord of Gaunt’s secret matters. He neither said “yea or nay”.’ Cranston clapped his gauntleted hands together. ‘The Great Community of the Realm plots; its leaders the Upright Men prepare for what they call the Day of the Great Slaughter; they promise a new Jerusalem here in Southwark and elsewhere. The storm is coming, Athelstan, mark my words. Some of your parishioners are deep in the councils of the Upright Men.’ Cranston shrugged. ‘But, in the end, it will be your hangman who will be the busiest of them all. He will be kicking them from the scaffold in their hundreds.’ Cranston sighed noisily. ‘You’re needed.’ He beckoned. ‘Master Thibault wants you, so collect your cloak and writing satchel.’ Cranston gestured where the friar had laid these over a small trestle table. ‘Tell the widow woman and the rest to look after your church. A bloody business awaits us.’

‘What, Sir John?’ Athelstan’s stomach lurched. He recollected how most of his parishioners had attended Mass except for Ranulf the rat catcher, who’d burst in so unexpectedly.

‘We will talk as we walk,’ the coroner smiled, ‘or at least try to.’

They re-entered the deserted sanctuary. Benedicta was lighting a taper in the Lady Chapel. Athelstan quickly whispered to her that she and Crim look after the church and the priest’s house, for God only knew at what hour he would return.

‘Be careful, Father.’ The widow woman’s lovely face creased with worry. Her anxious eyes held those of this celibate priest whom she loved so much, she had to be shriven at another church in the city. After all, how could she confess her most secret thoughts to the man who was the very cause and root of such thoughts?

‘Be careful, Athelstan, please.’

‘What, Benedicta. .’

She grasped his hand in her mittened fingers. ‘Father?’ She looked over her shoulder at Cranston standing further down the church, admiring Huddle the painter’s most recent offering, ably assisted by the Anchorite, a vivid warning against pride.

‘Benedicta?’

‘Father, I have heard rumours. They have trapped some Upright Men in the Roundhoop, a tavern near the Tower. .’

‘Brother Athelstan!’ Cranston was marching towards the door. The friar squeezed Benedicta’s hand, raised his eyes heavenwards and hurried after him. Cranston was standing on the top step outside the church, glaring across at Watkin, Pike, Ranulf and others huddled together like the conspirators they were.

‘Keep well away from the Roundhoop!’ Cranston roared. ‘I do not want to see any of you fine fellows across the bridge. Do you understand?’ Watkin detached himself from the group as if to challenge the coroner, who went down the steps, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

‘Watkin!’ Athelstan warned, coming out of the church, shifting the strap of his writing satchel more comfortably around his neck.

‘Watkin,’ he repeated, ‘go into God’s Acre. Make sure Godbless has enough to keep himself and Thaddeus warm and fed.’ Athelstan forced a smile at the thought of that omnivorous goat ever going hungry. ‘Merrylegs!’ Athelstan beckoned at the pie-shop owner. ‘I will need two of your pies by the time I return. Huddle, you are being given money to finish the Fall of Pride. Ask the anchorite for his advice.’ Athelstan walked down the steps, calling each parishioner by name, giving them either work or advice. The group broke up. Athelstan crossed himself in gratitude. He must not lose his temper. He closed his eyes and whispered the prayer he always did after the Eucharist.

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «The Straw Men»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «The Straw Men» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Paul Doherty: Bloodstone
Bloodstone
Paul Doherty
Paul Doherty: The Mysterium
The Mysterium
Paul Doherty
Paul Gitsham: The Last Straw
The Last Straw
Paul Gitsham
Paul Doherty: Domina
Domina
Paul Doherty
Paul Doherty: Nightshade
Nightshade
Paul Doherty
Paul Doherty: The Peacock's Cry
The Peacock's Cry
Paul Doherty
Отзывы о книге «The Straw Men»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «The Straw Men» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.