“Where?”
“In Lincoln.”
The answer seemed to satisfy her for the moment. The Mother Abbess’ gaze lingered on him before returning to the parchment in her hand. It was clear that she was curious, as well as concerned. Such suspicions made for an odd cast to her expression. After a slight hesitation, she broke the seal and unrolled the parchment, making her way over to the hearth as she did so in order that she might have some light to read by. Alasdair remained by the door.
The woman read quickly. She read it once and then read it again. Then, she simply stood there, seeming to read the missive in pieces. Mostly, her attention seemed to be focused on the latter part of it. She would read it over many times as Alasdair watched. Finally, she looked at him.
“Do you know what this missive contains?” she asked, her voice sounding oddly strained.
Alasdair nodded. “Aye,” he said honestly. “I am aware. The Holy Father and I have had many discussions about it.”
The Mother Abbess smiled thinly, looking back to the parchment she held. “Prove this to me.”
“It speaks of the death of the king.”
The Mother Abbess grunted and lowered the parchment. “You speak the truth,” she said. “Do you know what else it says?”
Alasdair came away from the door, his expression surprisingly pensive. “It speaks of the perfect weapon tae create death.”
“And you know what this perfect weapon is?”
Alasdair’s dark eyes glimmered as he nodded faintly. “I do, indeed,” he said. “Yer ladyship, William the Lion is my king. He has special favor with Rome. The Church of Scotland and Rome are allies. I was sent by William tae Rome as an envoy and a gift of protection for the Holy Father. The Holy Father and Scotland have the same enemy in John, so we understand each other. Not only do I know the perfect weapon of death but I also know of the boy.”
The Mother Abbess held up the parchment. “The boy spoken of here?”
“Aye.”
“The son ofCoeur de Lion?”
“Aye.”
The Mother Abbess deliberated upon that information for a moment although it was difficult to know what she was thinking. The older woman had learned long ago to control her emotions and did so with skill. Reading her thoughts based upon her expression was nearly impossible.
“So he would supplant John with Richard’s spawn,” she finally murmured, turning back towards the fire. “He asks for my assistance in accomplishing this.”
Alasdair nodded, again confirming what he already knew. “Indeed, Yer Ladyship,” he said. “The Holy Father tried tae hireSassenachmen tae eliminate their king, but they refused. He knows that if he sends trained assassins, assassins from Rome or from France, that it will be difficult for them tae get close tae the king.”
“Why?”
“Because the king is well-protected by English knights. English assassins would have made it much easier. If men of a different creed approach him, they will be immediately suspected for their difference. It will make their task far more difficult.”
The Mother Abbess stood by the fire now, parchment in hand as she watched the building flame. “Then you know that I am that perfect weapon of death”
Alasdair nodded. “I do.”
The Mother Abbess glanced sidelong at him. “What he asks is an unsavory task.”
Alasdair sensed her disapproval. “When he first told me of his plan, I was against it,” he said. “Surely nuns canna be assassins. But the more I thought on it, the more brilliant the plan became. Ye will be the last person suspected as being an assassin. Yer ladyship, surely ye canna have loyalty tae the English king. Ye’re not even English.”
“I do not and I am not.”
“But ye object tae his death?”
The Mother Abbess returned her attention to the smoking hearth, clearly in conflict. She put a hand, plump, against the stone of the mantel as she gazed into the snapping flames. When the smoke would blow her way, moving in unseen drafts, she would move aside and wipe at her watering eyes.
“It is not a matter of objecting or agreeing,” she said quietly. “It is simply a matter of doing what one is told to do. I came to St. Blitha many years ago. I was sent by the previous pontiff, as I was his younger sister. When I came to St. Blitha, I became Mother Abbess Seaxburga. I love my post. The Holy Father knows this; that is why he has sent me such a missive. He will take all of this away from me if I do not do his bidding. He will ruin me, and I have worked too hard for what I have. All of this; it is mine. He has threatened to ruin me before, youwill understand. This is not the first time I have received such a directive from him.”
Alasdair cocked his head. She spoke of her post as if it were a personal possession, something that had always and forever belonged only to her. But her last sentence had his particular attention.
