The Gallows Curse Read Online Free Page A

Even Elena's mother could scarcely believe she
once lusted after him, for his angelic beauty had long since faded. His
cream-soft skin was now scarred by battle and tanned to leather by sun and
wind. His hair, though still thicker than most women's, was the colour of old
lead. His belly, hips and backside were covered in sagging wads of fat, making
his ridiculously long limbs appear even more gangling and spindly. To Elena he
looked like a bloated spider.
        She
shuddered, feeling sick as she imagined those long fingers groping into her
flesh. He wouldn't, surely he wouldn't. No one had ever said he'd forced
himself on a woman. Quite the opposite in fact, for the alewives whispered that
if he was capable of getting his prick up, which most of them doubted, his
desire would surely be for the bull and not the heifers, for how else would you
account for the hours he and Sir Gerard spent alone together? Besides, isn't
that what you would expect from a grown man who had the voice of a little boy?
        They
were approaching the stables and Elena's stomach tightened, but Master Raffaele
strode on past and entered the small, dusty inner courtyard leading to the
great house. Elena was following so closely behind him that when he stopped and
turned, she almost fell into his arms. He stared down at her, then reached out
his great hand towards her. She flinched back, but he merely tugged the rag mask
from her face.
        'Brush
the dust from your kirtle, girl. The Lady Anne wishes to see you.'
        Elena
stared at him in horror. 'Master Raffaele . . . the wine, I didn't mean ... it
was an accident... I swear.'
        He
frowned at her as if she was babbling in a tongue he didn't recognize.
        'Wine?
This has nothing to do with wine.'
        The
expression in his hard brown eyes suddenly softened. He squeezed her shoulder
and she shrank under his grasp. He spoke more gently.
        'No
need to be frightened. The mistress is pleased with what she hears of you, a
good modest girl, mannerly. She's a mind to take you into the house, as one of
her tiring maids.'
        Elena
gaped at him. She couldn't believe that the Lady Anne even knew of her
existence. She had seen her often, but Lady Anne had never spoken to her. Why
would she? Any instructions she had to give to a villein would be passed on
through the steward, reeve or bailiff. And Elena mostly worked in the fields,
as her own mother had done and her grandmother before that.
        The
closest Elena had ever come to the house was the kitchens outside in the
courtyard where she was sent to take herbs and vegetables for the cooks. She
hated going there, a great noisy place with people flashing knives and rushing
about bellowing orders. Worst of all was the stifling heat from the fires, and
the smoke, steam and burning fat so thick in the air that it made your eyes
sting and water before you'd even set foot through the door. She always
imagined that the torments of hell would be just like the manor kitchens. Holy
Virgin, surely they weren't going to make her work in there?
        She
stared down at a daisy struggling to grow in the dust between the cobbles. 'How
. . . how does she . . . Lady Anne know me?'
        'I
knew she was looking for a new tiring maid, since that foolish girl got herself
with child.' He smiled. 'I've been keeping an eye on you. I think you'll do
very well.'
        Lady
Anne was standing at the window of the chamber, her greying hair covered by the
soft folds of a linen wimple. The afternoon light streaming in cruelly exposed
the dull flaking skin and sharp bones of her face. She was not yet in her
sixtieth year, but to Elena she looked ancient, older even than her
grandmother, which she probably was. Deep lines were gouged around her eyes and
mouth from years of anxiety, and little wonder, Elena's mother said, for the
poor soul had been a widow for nigh on twenty years. Cecily knew all about the
sorrows of widowhood, for hadn't