< previous page page_271 next page >

Page 271
Then her eyes cleared, only to light with anger again. "What are you doing in that mail?" she asked furiously. "Was not one near drowning enough for you?"
Simon opened his mouth, then closed it again. Any word he permitted to pass his lips, flooded as he was with the sweet memory of those weeks at Roselynde, would be inexcusable. Silently he unbelted his sword, took off his helm, undid his cloak, and unlaced his hood. Alinor had looked at him, the anger in her eyes replaced by shocked hurt. When he began to struggle to remove his hauberk, however, two small, strong hands lifted the back. By the time he was able to grip it himself she was no longer there. He glanced once at her back as she stood beside the raised side of the ship, and then busied himself with carefully folding his hauberk and laying all his accoutrements together on his shield.
Then there was nothing else to do. Simon wrapped himself in his furred cloak and went to the port side where he sat down with his back to the planking. Again his eyes strayed to Alinor. The ship was moving steadily but it was not that which made sickness rise in Simon's throat. Alinor was rereading her precious letters. Determinedly Simon closed his eyes. He wished he could close his ears too, to keep out the caterwauling of the other women. Perhaps if he went in, he could calm them, he thought guiltily, but he could not summon the courage for that.
"Simon!" Alinor shrieked.
Overboard! Simon thought, attempting to leap to his feet. Tangled in his cloak, he toppled forward, right into her arms.
"Not now!" Alinor spat, pushing him back. Her eyes were aflame with leaping gold and green points; her cheeks were blazing. "Look at this letter," she cried, thrusting it into his hands. "Oh, mea culpa, mea culpa!" she mourned. "I am punished for my weakness, justly punished.''
Her lover is dead, Simon thought, with a vicious

 
< previous page page_271 next page >