The Penwyth Curse (Medieval Song 6) - Page 41

Bishop took her hand and sat her on the end of the trestle table bench. He gave her a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese. “It probably isn’t as good as Beelzebub’s, but it is tasty.”

“Thank you,” Merryn said and ate, never taking her eyes off the activity in the great hall of St. Erth.

When she’d eaten, she rose from her seat, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Thank you, my lord and lady of St. Erth. I should have realized that this man, Bishop of Lythe—”

“It’s Sir Bishop. I knighted him myself.”

“—was a base liar. So that was your plan, Sir Bishop, to pretend to be at Penwyth only to root out the curse. All along you were there to marry the heiress.” She raised her arm and pointed her finger directly at him.

“You believe what the fool sang?” Philippa said, an eyebrow arched upward. “It is his job to make up fantastic tales.”

Merryn said, her foot tapping now, “He spoke the truth, even though the rhymes weren’t very good.”

The great hall fell silent as the grave. Even the children, even Dienwald’s babes, were quiet, staring at Merryn and her outstretched arm.

“—she’s going to strike him down.”

“—she’s going to kill him through the end of her finger.”

Bishop heard the frightened whispers from just behind him. He slowly stood, stared at that pointing finger of hers, and walked toward her. He grabbed her arm and pulled it back to her side.

She was heaving, her breathing was so hard and fast. “Let me go, you bastard.”

“Oh, no. Listen to me, Merryn. This curse—I don’t know what it means yet, but I will discover what it is all about and I will get rid of it. And yes, then I will marry you.”

“Bastard!”

She yelled so loudly that his eardrums nearly heaved into his brain.

She drew back her arm and let loose, striking him hard in the jaw. Bishop reeled back and grabbed the edge of the table. For a moment he was so angry that he saw red creeping into his vision, felt his attention narrowing until it was solely on her. She had struck him. She had actually struck him. He looked at her, knowing that if he touched her in anger, he could kill her. He didn’t want her dead, curse her eyes.

He threw back his head. “Listen, all of you. I have taken the maid from Penwyth far away from the seat of the curse. I will wed her right now, within the next hour, by Father Cramdle, who will ignore any screeching, any vile curses from my bride’s mouth.”

“You cannot make me wed you, Bishop.” She ran at him, came onto her tiptoes, and shouted right in his face, “I won’t have you, you miserable liar. You are worse than all the husbands. At least they were honest in their greed.”

Bishop grabbed her, jerked her about so that her back was pressed against him, and held her arms firmly at her sides. He leaned down, whispered in her ear, “The king has given you to me. That is enough.”

She said with no hesitation, with complete conviction, “Don’t you understand, you half-wit? As long as there is the curse, you will die if you wed me.”

Damnation, he did believe her.

Bishop said against her face, “Very well. I won’t force you to marry me.”

“Good. Let me go or I’ll kick you until you yowl.”

“You do that and I’ll bare your bottom and thrash you. Right here, in front of everyone.” He was silent for a moment, a thoughtful silence she didn’t trust.

“Let me go, you bastard.”

“Oh, no. Do you know, Merryn, I think I’ll do something else with you.”

He loosened his hold enough so that she could turn to face him. She wanted to hit him, he could see it on her face, that open face of hers. But she held herself back. “A lot has happened since you came to Penwyth, Bishop. Tell me you understand now. If you marry me, you will die. It’s that simple. I won’t allow that to happen. I won’t marry you.”

He gave her a long look and said, “I understand. As I said, I’m thinking about something else now.”

13

BISHOP PULLED MERRYN away from the center of the great hall into a corner where there were three servants staring at them from the shadows and two small dogs chewing on an ancient leather strap. He waved them away, then whispered in her ear, “Aye, I understand, all right, but heed me, Merryn. The king has given you to me. There is no lie in that, no greed, no dishonesty, just my wish to remain alive until I get rid of that damned curse.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Medieval Song Historical
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