Catherine: One Love is Enough (Catherine Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

doublet embroidered with silver leaves, and his tight grey and silver hose revealed the muscular calves and thighs of a skilled horseman. Stood there between the two butchers, his hands tied behind his back and his head arrogantly raised, eyes cold with anger and a scornful smile on his lips, he looked like some archangel fallen into evil hands. Catherine was reminded suddenly of a picture she had admired in a finely illuminated gospel, for which her father had been crafting a cover of chased gold. It had shown a golden-haired young knight in silver armour, stood on a dragon that he had transfixed with his lance. Gaucher had explained to her that this represented Michael the Archangel and his victory over the Evil One. It was he whom the young man resembled … and his name was Michel too.
    This thought only added to Catherine’s determination to help him in some way, or at least to stay near him as long as she could.
    A mass of people crowded along behind the prisoner, all screaming for his punishment by death. Catherine, jostled this way and that, had the utmost difficulty in keeping up. At length, a daring idea suggested itself to her: with tremendous effort she pushed up close behind the huge bulk of Caboche the Skinner himself and clung on round his waist. Elated by his recent triumphs, the Skinner did not even notice, just as Catherine was oblivious of the blows and knocks she was receiving in the press of bodies and of the feet stepping painfully on hers. She had long ago lost her cap, and from time to time someone dragged at her loosened hair. But in some mysterious way, a current of hope and encouragement seemed to flow into her from the fair-haired boy in front.
    There were other prisoners besides Michel de Montsalvy: the Duc de Bar, cousin of the Dauphin; Jean de Vailly, Chancellor of Guyenne; the Dauphin’s Chamberlain, Jean de la Rivière; the two Giresmes brothers; and a score or so more. They were all being dragged along in chains like common criminals, through a volley of spit and insults. As she went through the heavily-carved oak door at the head of the stairs, Catherine caught a fleeting glimpse of the long, morose features of the Maître Pierre Cauchon. He stood in his black robes with his back to the wall, trying to avoid being swept along by the crowd. Catherine was astonished to intercept the look he cast at the prisoner as he went by. His dim, lacklustre eyes suddenly sparkled as if the sight of the young nobleman on his way to the scaffold gave him exquisite pleasure, and satisfied some deep need for revenge … A wave of nausea passed over Catherine. She had never liked Cauchon. Now he positively sickened her.
    As the crowd pushed toward the palace door, the struggling and jostling grew more savage. Catherine was forced to relinquish her hold on Caboche and found herself being gradually forced back. Her protesting scream went unheeded in the din. Then the feel of warm sunshine on her face a second later told her that they were once more in the open air. The rushing torrent of humanity spread out momentarily, scattering over the sanded alleys before flowing together again for the plunge through the shattered gate. Catherine took a deep breath, like a gallant little soldier before the attack. Then she was dismayed to discover that the prisoner and his escort were at that moment going through the archway. She could just make out Michel’s golden head in the midst of gleaming steel helmets and halberds. A second later he vanished from sight. Catherine gave a cry of dismay and was just about to fling herself after him when she felt a strong hand seize her by the shoulder, holding her back.
    ‘Found you again at last!’ came Landry’s voice. ‘What a fright you gave me! This is the last time I take you anywhere with me, you can be sure of that! There’s a devil in you!’
    Landry had evidently encountered considerable resistance on his way through the stampede in the Hôtel de Guyenne. He had a