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I heard you tell me so," he said with deadly quiet. "Friar, do not tempt me too far. Tell me who it is who writes the words and numbers in the books that belong to the Lady Alinor. Have I made my question clear now?" |
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"It was always clear, my lord. I do not know why you will not believe my answer. Lady Alinor writes the words and the numbers on the pages of the books that lie there with pens that I trim for her." |
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The friar looked at Simon, frightened but hopeful. Simon looked back, swallowed again. "Lady Alinor?" he repeated weakly. |
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Simon turned toward the entryway. The light was full on her face as she stood at the opening to the antechamber, and her cheeks were red as fire so that her eyes gleamed almost black. Slowly the meaning of what the friar had said in conjunction with what he had found came to Simon. Color rose in his face too. Alinor slid her arm around the friar's bent shoulders and hugged him briefly. |
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"Go now, Brother Philip. This is my affair, and I will deal with it." |
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"But he is a blasphemer, and" |
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"These are worldly things and not for men of God to meddle with," Alinor said firmly. "He will do me no hurt. Go now." |
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Alinor wished she was as confident as she sounded. She was not worried that Simon, on whose straining hands the knuckles and scars showed white, would hit her. A bruise or two would be a cheap price to pay for peace. Unfortunately she could not give him that outlet for his frustration because the antechamber was open to the Great Hall. Either her servingmen would rush to protect her, or they would summon Sir Andre and Sir John. Her color changed from red to white as she thought of the results that would ensue if her vassals found Simon beating her. |
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But Simon made no move toward her. He went |
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